Addicted

Addicted Page 10

“But, Zoe, what about tomorrow?”

Click. Enough of all that. I jumped up off the worn and tattered sofa and quickly adjusted the dolman sleeves of the white blouse I had on with some black velveteen leggings and black leather platform shoes. I made a beeline for the front door, pausing half a second to smile in the mirror and make sure none of the meatloaf from dinner was stuck in my front teeth.

I was determined to make a classic statement of subtlety and poise, pretending like I just happened to be stepping outside for some fresh air or something. Once I saw Jason’s key hitting the lock and the lights go on in his foyer when he hit the switch on the wall, I quickly discarded that option.

“Jason, hold up just a minute!” I heard my voice and realized I was screaming, panicking even, so I toned it down a bit and then reiterated, “Hang on a second.”

Even from across the street, I could see his eyes crinkle-at the sides. He was probably under the automatic assumption I only wanted to say something sarcastic to him. To be honest, I had no idea what I was going to say, but I knew I needed Jason. I wanted Jason. I had to have Jason, or I might as well have slit my wrists with a plastic knife from KFC or taken an overdose of Ex-Lax or something.

“Zoe, what do you want?” He tossed the bags down on the tile floor in the entryway.

“Why do you think I want something?” I replied,moving tentatively toward him. “Maybe I just wanted to say hey.”

He gave me a sanguine smile, and I was a bit relieved. Normally, he would just snarl at me. “Well, hey.”

I was at his doorway by then, and I immediately got lost in his eyes, wondering how in the hell the little nucca I used to scrape in the street with grew up to be so damn fine.

“Anything else?” he asked, beginning to press on the backside of the door like he was on alert to slam it in my face if my evil twin raised her ugly head. He knew I wanted him though. I could tell. He was just basking in the glory of knowing he had control over my conflicted heart.

I hesitated and bit on my bottom lip, contemplating what to say next. He blushed and leaned against the doorframe, and it dawned on me how tall he was. I had three-inch platforms on my five-foot, six-inch frame, and he looked like the Jolly Green Giant standing in front of me. “How tall are you?”

He grinned and let out a slight chuckle. “Is that what you came over here to ask me at this time of night? How tall I am?”

“No, but I was just wondering. I didn’t realize you were so gigantic.”

He rolled his eyes, but I could tell my interest in his height was flattering to him. “If you must know, gurl, I’m about six-five.”

“Six-five? Damn!” For some reason, I had to look at his feet. I glanced down, and he had on the biggest-ass pair of Nikes I’d ever seen. Brina and the other gurls used to always talk about how a boy’s feet were directly related to penis size. I had never bought into that, since penis size was never a fascination for me—that is, until the day I prayed like all hell Jason would turn around in the gymshower. On my way back up to look at his face again, I made a pit stop at the crotch of his jeans. My eyes ballooned when I spotted it behind the denim fabric. Not only was it big, much bigger than it had been a couple years before when we used to grind up against each other, but he either had a coconut in his pocket or he was damn sure happy to see me.

“Well, look, I’m about to go cook me some hot dogs. Aight?” I must’ve made him feel uneasy because he turned on me, and his grin changed to a pout. I wondered if he knew I was peeping his dang-a-lang.

“Okay, cool.” I started to turn around when a lightbulb went off in my head. “You mind if I grab one of your hot dogs, Jason? Momma’s working late again, and I’mstarved.”I rubbed my belly to drive the point home. “We don’t have a thing in the fridge, and I don’t have a car like you, so I can’t go to Kroger or grab some fast food.”

I was lying my ass off, knowing good and damn well that less than an hour earlier I had munched down on the mouthwatering meatloaf and mashed potatoes with gravy Momma fixed before she left for work.

Jason glared at me, like he was registering the thought of actually letting me in the house when his parents weren’t home. “Aight, come on in,” he said, stepping aside. He must’ve wondered if I would go psycho on his ass and stab him with a butcher knife, because he emphatically added, “But as soon as we eat, you need to bounce, because I have a lot to do before the fair tomorrow.”

“Whatchu gotta do for the fair?” I quizzed, attempting to throw a

little slang in there so I appeared cool.

He picked up the bags and headed to the kitchen. I closed the front door and followed him. “The basketball team is sponsoring some of the activities this year, and since I’m the captain, I have to help out.”

“Oh yeah? What type of activities?” He laid the bags on the counter, and I became enthralled with the tightness of his ass again. It looked ten times better up close than it did from the hole in the locker room.

He didn’t notice me staring because he was busy putting some eggs, bacon, and milk in the fridge. “We got this kissing booth going on, for one thang. I’m not really trying to do it, but you know how it is?”

“Kissing booth? Word?”

“Yeah, you didn’t know?”

“Nope.”

Jason gave me a puzzled look. “Hmm, I’m surprised, because Chandler and some of the other cheerleaders are doing it along with us.”

The mere mention of Chandler’s name made me cringe. Damn, why couldn’t that anorexic beanpole bitch move the hell on? I had even resorted to becoming a cheerleader to get next to Jason, but it just made him laugh. The other girls on the team were all buddy-buddy with Chandler and left me out of the loop except for the required activities. “No one said a thing to me. Then again, I’m not surprised, considering the fact Chandler hates my guts.”

Jason put some tap water in an aluminum saucepan and then turned on a gas burner. “Chandler doesn’t hate you. You’re trippin’. What makes you think that?”

He acted like it was some sort of revelation. Jason knew good and damn well Chandler couldn’t stand my ass. I don’t even know why he was trying to fake the funk. “Whatever, Jason,” I hissed. “So, are you and her still hanging out?”

He cut open the pack of Oscar Mayer hot dogs, dropped them in the boiling water, and then sat down across from me at the white drop-leaf table with floralplace mats adorning it. “Why you wanna know? In fact, what’s up with all these questions tonight? You writing a book or sumptin’?”

I looked at him contritely. “No, I ain’t writing no damn book. I was just wondering because—”

“Because what?” He waylaid the rest of my sentence and it was just as well. I was about to do something dumb and ask him to go with me like he did me years before. I could hear his smart-aleck reply in my head: Go with you where?

“Never mind.” I decided to change the subject. “So how long are your parents gonna be out of town, and where did they go anyway?”

“See, another freakin’ question.” That fool laughed at me in my face, and it finally pissed me off. My evil twin came out.

“Geesh, if I can’t even ask a damn question, I might as well take my ass back on across the street!” I jumped up from the kitchen table and started stomping toward the front door in my platforms.

Jason was right on my tail. “Hold up, Zoe. I’m sorry. My parents are in North Carolina visiting some relatives, aight? Just chill, Boo.”

Dang, he called my ass “Boo.” A word of affection. Everyone knew “Boo” was more than just a word Casper the Friendly Ghost whispered to unsuspecting children. Maybe not before the eighties, but Boo was a certified synonym for “Baby,” “Sweetie,” and “Snookums” by the time the word left Jason’s sexy-ass lips. I was a Boo. Aww, dayum!

“Yes, Jason?” I spun around and batted my eyelashes at him, trying to keep myself from blushing, but I realized it was a lost cause.

“What about your hot dog? What you gonna eat for dinner?”

I was appalled. How dare he build up my emotions and then start talking about some damn hot dogs, even if they weren’t cheap-ass chicken franks? I sucked my teeth. “I’ll just eat some Vienna sausages and some saltines instead.”

I swung the door open and headed out, muttering expletives under my breath.

“Wait—why did you ask about me and Chandler for real, though?”

I didn’t even look back at him. “I gotta go. I need to go condition my hair and get ready for the fair.”

“So you’re going then?”

“Yeah, I’m going.” I didn’t want to tell him that Ms. Rankin, the principal, had asked Brina and me to be clowns. Chandler and her other hussy friends were going to kiss boys all day long, and I had to be a freakin’ clown.