What do guys like about me? The tone of my skin? Luscious curls? Or the fact I had the shape they all wanted? I’ve been in the arms of all kinds, all wanting something from me. I always gave them what they wanted, my body, for nothing my name on the hit list. Every time I’m deceived. Them always saying, “I ain’t like that shawdy.” And my dumb self believed them. Same old story. The pick-up line, the gifts, the kisses; then my mistake, the hook up.
It’s been like I’ll never know if someone is genuinely, sincerely, true to me or about me. Until he came in the picture. Darian Mikals. A six-foot-one, caramel skinned, nineteen-year-old. His square cut jaw cleverly complimented his baby face. He had the cutest goatee coming in, square arched eyebrows, and the most perfect hazel eyes. Just looking at him made me melt.
I felt deceived already. I could see him walking up to me, Ms. Jazzmin Brooks, supposedly “the perfect honey colored hourglass” of the junior class. I stood at my locker wearing my dark blue skinny jeans and my originally designed graphic baby tee. I heard nothing, but the roar of the hallway traffic. I closed my locker and there he stood. Looking fine as ever in his non-saggin’ jeans and XL red shirt, when he was clearly a medium .
“So I hear you’re…” I cut him off. “Before you play your line, what’s your angle?”
He looked at me sort of crossed-eyed. “Well I heard you were one hell of an artist.” We exchanged looks.
“Who said that?” I put my hand on my hip. “Nobody, I just saw you doodling in your notebook last period.” “So you’re interested in my doodles?”
He paused, “Naw.” I dropped my jaw. “I’m playin’. It’s real good!” “Thanks.” “Maybe you can teach me how to draw sometime.”
I laughed. “Are you serious?” he looked at me with that adorable face with a serious look. “Yeah.” “Fine then. Meet me in the art room during free period.” “Alright then.”
He left with a smile as the bell rang. One of my recent ex’s walk by, “Bein’ played again I see.” I flicked him off and went into my class. All that period I couldn’t stop thinking about Darian. By the end of the period I managed to draw him kissing the crown of my head. The bell rang and I headed to the art room. Prepping myself to keep Darian away from me. I took deep breaths before his presence stole it. I walked in the room and no one was in it, but Ms. Allen.
“Hey Jazzmin, how are you?” “All’s good so far.”
I threw my bag on the first counter and snatched out my sketch book. I took out my pencil and began to flip through the pages. Then I saw the picture I drew of me and Darian. I smiled. I heard footsteps and looked up. There he was, just like he said he would. I looked down to my drawing.
“Hey Jazzmin.”
I snatched that paper out and stuffed it in my bag. “Hey Darian.” He sat next to me and pulled out this tattered sketch book. You could see the lead fingerprints on the cover, which was half torn, and smudges too. But when he opened it, there were these picture that looked just as good as mine.
“Whoa,” I said. He looked at me. “Where did all of these come from?” He laughed. “You asked me to show you how to draw! You didn’t say that you could!”
Ms. Allen looked up. “Well I had to come up with an excuse to talk to you. So I asked you to teach me to draw.” I rolled my eyes. “I knew there was an angle.” I started to pack my stuff. He stopped me.
“Can I show you something?” I blew air out of my mouth. “You have 30 seconds.”
He flipped through his sketch pad to a picture that scared me. I was him and me. He had his arm wrapped around me while kissing my neck. My eyes were closed with my hand on his cheek. All shaded in with black and red. I sat down with my hand over my mouth.
“You hate it don’t you? I should’ve known you didn’t like me that way,” “No.” He looked over to me. I reached in my bag and took out the picture I tore out. I gave it to him and his face lit up.
“I’m going to make copies, I’ll be right back.” Ms. Allen said leaving the room. Darian stared at the picture. I sat in my chair waiting for a response.
“when did you draw this?” “Last period…when did you draw yours?” He paused. “Last period.”
I took his picture in my hands and touched the shading. I looked over to Darian who was looking at me. “This is amazing Darian.”
He smiled. “I like you a lot Jazzmin. Always have since freshman year.” I was quiet for a moment. “I can’t Darian. I don’t want to be deceived into another black book.” He looked in my eyes. “I’m not that way Jazz,”
“Every guy says that up until he does it.” “Jazz, I’ve never liked someone the way I like you. This is different than what I’ve felt in other relationships. I can’t help it. If I can’t have you, I can’t be happy.”
I sat there. Unsure of myself. Yes he’s fine and all, but what if he turns out like everyone else? I turned my head from him. He held my chin in his hand and had me face him. He looked into my eyes as I stared into his. He came closer. I turned my head so he wouldn’t kiss me, but he didn’t do that at all. He lifted my hand and spun me until my back was turned from him. He held me in his arms. He held me the way our pictures did. Darian knew exactly what he was doing.
He kissed the crown of my head then went down to my neck. I closed my eyes, bringing my hand to his cheek. We stayed like this for about a minute, until he lifted his head and I opened my eyes. Again we looked at each other. I put my forehead to his and smirked. He smiled.
“Do you trust me?” I paused. I nodded my head. “Yeah.”
He pressed his lips against mine. I felt how real he was. Nowhere near the type of deception. We deepened our passionate kiss and pulled away. We smiled knowing we had become our splitting images.