No Boyz Allowed by Ni-Ni- Simone

Author:Ni-Ni- Simone
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington Publishing Corp.
Published: 2012-07-05T04:00:00+00:00

15

A week later

Ever since Ny’eem asked me on a date—our first official date and not the lil Robin Hood run-ins we’ve had, but a date—the lyrics to Ciara’s “C.R.U.S.H.” were stuck in my head.

It was like . . . like . . . I had musical Tourette’s. Because every time I turned around I was out of control and singing this song at the top of my lungs.

Sicko.com.

Imagine this: the other night at dinner and in the middle of Cousin Shake’s hour-long tirade better known as grace, this song popped in my head and flew out of my mouth! I did a Beyoncé dip, snaked back up, and topped it off with, “He’s a keeper!”

O.M.G.

It took me hella long—like two hours long—to explain to Cousin Shake and Ms. Minnie that I was not secretly sweatin’ Cousin Shake. They made me raise my hand and take an oath that they were family and family didn’t get “busy” like that.

Ewww.

Gag me. Seriously.

I was done. And although I stopped singing during dinner, I did hum. But that didn’t settle Ms. Minnie because she still gave me extra hard side-glances—that clearly said she wouldn’t hesitate to drop down a smack-down over Cousin Shake.

S.M.H.

I felt like there was a spell over me because the mere thought of Ny’eem sent tingling chills from my big toes to my eyebrows, forcing me to borderline on passing out.

Maybe I was possessed.

Yeah, that was it. Someone else had invaded my body, ’cause this person I took quick peeks at in the mirror was nothing like the Gem I knew.

This was some serious and for a moment I wondered if I needed crush-sick rehab. ’Cause there was no way in H to the double ell that this was normal; or that I should’ve been trippin’ this hard over a 6’ 2” cutie—I mean he did put all the hotties who’d ever lived to sleep. And he was soooo fine that his name should’ve been Fine. And yeah I love the way he texted me:

Yo, pr3tty girl, w3 shld chill 2g3th3r on day 6. Hang and hit up a spot 2 g3t some food.

Hellafied sexy. Especially the way he used 3’s for E’s.

But still... I had to have some kinda trippin’ disorder to be going this hard.

Right?

Right.

As “C.R.U.S.H.” blasted from my iPod and through my room I sorted through the mountain of clothes I’d dumped on my bed in frantic search of something fly to wear—which was turning out to be an epic fail. A dud. Everything that was cute and fly yesterday was today’s hot mess. And I couldn’t go see my cutie dressed in a hot mess. No way. No how.

I stood at the foot of my bed and then suddenly and without warning I stomped my feet like a five-year-old and screamed, “I’m not going!” And then I passed out, face first, into the heap of clothes spread across my bed.

“Woman down,” I mumbled into a pair of True Religion jeans. “Code blue.”

There was no coming back from this and the only thing on my mind was what would be in my eulogy.

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