"Hello?"
"Nycole, it's me," I hear Lavender's soft voice on the other end and I smiled. I haven't talked to her in a few months, not since I've seen that bastard Lance. I was really happy to talk to her.
"Hey, what's up, girl?" I replied, sitting down on my white leather couch. I noticed there was a knock at the door right after I had sat down and I sighed, annoyed, "Hold on, Lavender, someone's at my door and they're going to get their teeth knocked out."
I got up to get the door and was shocked when I saw Lavender fixing her blonde hair in front of my door, holding the cell phone on her shoulder up against her ear, "You'll knock their teeth out, ey? Well, how would their boyfriend feel about that?" Lavender looked into my brown eyes and I smiled.
That sneaky little bitch. That's what I like about her.
"Hey," I said quietly, seeing her hang up her cell phone and hugged her tightly. I didn't want to see what I did over my shoulder, but I did. Lance, with his damn leg brace, limping over to us. I could just break his other leg. But he doesn't look angry. He looks almost�happy.
What could make him happy enough to see a piece of black trash like me?
"What the fuck are you doing here?" I spit out harshly to his nearing form. He looks sad after I say this and I pull out of Lavender's embrace, retreating back into the house.
"He needs to talk to you," Lavender tried to say calmly, "And I'm sick of you both treating each other like shit. It's time to make up. I admit, for him, in the past, he's been a major asshole to you. But he's willing to change."
"I haven't even told you about�" I stopped myself before it even came out of my own mouth. No way am I getting into this�not after all this shit about Lance in the foot brace�god, how can I even look at the guy when he tells our deepest, darkest past secrets to my best friend, especially when I didn't want her to know, "Bastard!" I suddenly yelled out to Lance's figure, who was getting closer and closer, frighteningly close to the point that I could just break his other foot if I wanted to, "How could you do this?"
Doesn't he realize he had fucked up my past, and now he wants to make it worse for my future? Great.
"Nycole�" he mutters out small and helpless as he enters my doorway, throwing his crutches down on the ground and walks over to me by himself; with the help of the foot brace is a little easier than I originally perceived, "I'm in love with you."
What the fuck did he just say?
"Bullshit, mother fucker," I muttered out, trying to push myself out of the room and lock myself in my bedroom, never wanting him to enter my domicile, or my psyche. He has fucked up my brain for the last time. He really has. But I am frozen in my spot on the carpet, realizing there is a different glow in his eyes�something that would leave a woman hypnotized, "How can you be in love with a black woman, you racist asshole?"
Don't tell me�he can't be getting to you Nycole. Fight back!
"I'm not racist anymore�but I can't say I wasn't an asshole," Lance looked straight into my eyes and grabbed my arm, gently putting it around his waist and leaned in and kissed me hard on the lips. How can I let myself tolerate this?
Very easily.
As I felt his kisses ceasing and he was about ready to pull away, I pulled my arms up to his neck and pulled it down to reach my smaller figure, crashing our lips upon each other's once again. His kisses were wet, sweet and passionate, his tongue sliding into my mouth shortly after I had pulled his neck down. His hands were running down my body, tracing me like a stencil and they rested around my waist, strong in grip, kissing his way down my face to my neck, cherishing my body for all it was.
Black. And beautiful.