He Said, She Said by Kwame Alexander

Author:Kwame Alexander
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2013-10-03T04:00:00+00:00

Omar

Tdiddy Smalls C’mon son, why is Willie Mack in here blasting Pink? Put that Meek Mill on. #PumpingIron

Like · Comment · Share · @DaRealTdiddy · Saturday at 7:30 am ·

Usually Fast Freddie works out with us, but this joker calls me coughing at five thirty this morning.

“IGotTheFluOrSomethingT.”

“You’re suspect, dawg.” He coughs in the phone, like I don’t know he and Belafonte just got in a few hours ago. Jokers always hiding and trying to be all secretive about their ish, and then they put it on Facebook. C’mon, son. “Same ol’ party and bullshit. Y’all need to get your priorities straight,” I tell him.

“TrueTrue. TDidYouSmash?”

Click.

Willie Mack and I are the only ones in the gym. We’ve been in here for about an hour.

“How come they never turn the heat on in this joint on weekends?” he asks, his sweat dripping on me while he spots my bench press. “Hurry up, dawg, I’m hungry.”

It’s hard to think about food or heat or anything else up in here. My mind is on one thing.

Last night, Claudia and I were sitting on Folly Beach at midnight. We walked. We kissed. It wasn’t anybody else on the beach but the two of us. She grabbed my hand and slid her fingers in between mine. The rest of the night was like a dream.

“What number is that?” I ask, grunting while struggling to lift the three-hundred-pound weights off my chest for the tenth time.

“Focus, T. Stop thinking about ol’ girl and focus.”

“Ain’t nobody thinking about her,” I grunt.

“Then why you didn’t hang out with us last night? Why you don’t eat lunch with us no more?”

WTF!

“You ain’t even watch the game with us on Sunday? You always on her FB?” he says, pressing the bar down.

“C’mon, Willie, stop pressing so hard.” He lets up a little. “You sound like a little bish. Stop tripping.” Truth was, he wasn’t really tripping. I hadn’t really thought about how much time I was spending with homegirl.

“I got your bish,” he says, gritting on me, pressing the bar down with all his might. It takes every ounce of strength I have to keep it off my neck. “It’s the last one. C’mon now, push.”

“Then let up, dayum!” When I finally get the barbell up, he takes it and places it on the stand.

“Willie Mack, I’m just having fun with ol’ girl. You know how T-Diddy does.”

“I hear ya talking, woadie,” he says sarcastically.

“C’mon son. T-Diddy is all about dropping the panties. Don’t get it twisted,” I say, not even believing myself.

“A’ight, dawg. I’m all about Panera. Let’s hit it.”

“I’m taking a shower first, and you should too.”

“I’m good. I’ll be out here, but I ain’t waiting forever. Hurry up, before they run out of soufflé. That spinach artichoke joint is the truth.”

I’m in the shower for almost fifteen minutes, just letting the water hit me before I even begin to clean off the funk. I can’t stop thinking about homegirl.

What I really want to do is see Claudia, tell her I think I love her.

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