Chapter 9 #2
In my eyes, once college had begun and people were moving on socially, then I could openly talk about my relationship, without the scrutiny.
They were already questioning our decision to show up at prom together, which was why we’d only stayed for a couple of hours, before going off to do our own thing.
Not being the talk of the school and having dirt on my name had become more important to me, as I’d decided to stop being anonymous when it came to my identity associated with my books.
Before graduating, the whole school had found out about my writing, and several of them had downloaded the Kindle app, wanting to be nosey.
Hell, even the teachers were reading my books.
And there was nothing but positive feedback.
So, with my classmates now knowing about my writing career, I felt like that situation with Breeze and Harlem could taint things.
High schoolers were petty and lived for social media.
My independent career was also made possible through social media.
So, if I ended the school year with a scandal attached to my name, then it would seep into my writing career.
And the last thing I wanted to be known as was the young author who was with her step-brother, after cheating on her boyfriend, who was also the step-brother’s friend.
Sure, I wouldn’t die if the world knew my truths, but if I could keep the public out of my business, then that was what I was gonna do.
Especially when all I had to do was not share my life with people that I was leaving behind.
The only issue was that me and Breeze didn’t align on that way of thinking.
He claimed that I cared too much about what other people thought.
I felt like he didn’t care enough. Especially when the backlash wouldn’t affect us the same.
Hell, the public probably wouldn’t criticize Breeze at all, due to societal double standards.
Meanwhile, I would be labeled as loose, amongst other things.
And I don’t think that I could handle people viewing me in that light.
So, Breeze was just my step-brother when it came to the students of Atascosita High.
And that was why I was forced to listen to and witness girls openly talk about wanting to fuck him. Then realization slowly settled in.
In just one week, me and Breeze would be on opposite ends of the country, and I feared that whatever he felt for me would gradually fade, as new girls, and experiences entered the equation.
My view was shifting in this direction, because Breeze had gradually morphed back into his original being. The version of him who wasn’t smitten by me and the in-house pussy. This version loved to hang with his boys. Bounce back and forth between the burbs and the streets of 5th Ward.
Now, it didn’t feel like he belonged solely to me. And I hadn’t said a word about it. Not because I was passive. It was more so because I didn’t believe in things happening by chance.
Me and Breeze were both at a pivotal point in our lives…
and if all signs were pointing to us not working out, then I was going to listen.
Because maybe this was the universe freeing me of the shackles of having to fight to keep the relationship intact.
So that I could fully get to experience my freshman year of college, without attachments.
At the end of the day, those eight months with Breeze had been something that I’d never forget, but I also had to remember that I was Summer. Before anything else. And she would be great. With or without Ricky Junior.
In all honesty, I was beginning to miss the old version of me. The one who wasn’t in love, and didn’t allow relationships to move her in one way or another. Because being in love was starting to feel like a drag.
I was too emotional. Too aware. Too susceptible to being hurt. The shit wasn’t fun, anymore. And I wanted off the ride.
Or maybe…this was all a defense mechanism, because I could feel Breeze slipping through my hands. Perhaps I was attempting to psych myself out, so that I didn’t fall apart, when Breeze headed to UConn and stopped picking up the phone.
I don’t know, but it was hard to ignore that I was now hanging with my girls more often. They were now all legal, and wanted to club every day of the week. Naturally, I would tag along, but it was always in the back of my mind that Breeze hadn’t tried to get any time.
He was always with his friends from 5th Ward, or his cousins. Would stay gone for most of the day. And I guess that he didn’t think twice about it, because rain, sleet, or snow, I’d be there, whenever he’d make it home. Even if only by default.
What was a telltale sign that things were different was that this was technically our last weekend, before we were off to school, and me and Breeze weren’t spending it together. Instead, I was out with my girls, and we were pulling up to some private party that Shilo’s cousin had invited us to.
Dressing that night with a chip on my shoulder, I was clad in black, tiny booty shorts, a cropped sheer lacey bralette, tall stripper-like Christian Louboutin sandals, and a Louie wristlet on my wrist. The only jewelry I opted to wear was my necklace and name plate, along with Van Cleef bracelets.
My curly burgundy hair had undetectable tape-ins that draped down to my ass.
I’d paid for a glam makeup beat to ensure that I was extra pretty that night, while I felt rather empty internally.
Approaching the massive Airbnb that was in the Heights, me and my girls had to bypass so many thirsty niggas. They were acting like they’d never seen a girl in shorts, when it came to me, as they’d swooped down like vultures, grabbing my hand, begging for my number, left and right.
By the time we’d actually stepped into the house, I was ready to go.
“These niggas are being weird. And it’s a little much for me. So, I don’t know how long I'ma be here,” I admitted, while glancing around, taking in all the random faces.
Tarin smirked. “What did you expect? You walked up with all this ass out.” She playfully popped my booty.
“Girl, stop, with your gay ass,” I tittered, while lightly shoving her.
“No, for real, Summer,” Renny spoke up. “You are literally so damn fine. If I was gay, then I’d be grabbing you too.”
“Aww,” I cooed. “That’s so sweet.”
“Yeah, but look.” Asha tapped my shoulder. “Aint that Breeze over there?”
Gazing in the direction she’d pointed, I did indeed see Breeze. Him and his 6’6 stature stood out like a sore thumb. Rocking Givenchy distressed jeans, tee, and Jordan’s, he was dope-boy fresh. His red skin was illuminating the room, while those silky waves were spinning.
Yep. Breeze looked beautiful. For a man, of course. And was clearly posted up with a bitch.