CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Ya’Mya
I shoulda known this day was gon' end up pissing me off.
Me and Trigg was supposed to be spending the day together—just us.
But then his sister called talking about she needed him to watch his niece Nova for a few hours, and of course he said yes.
Which was cute and all, don't get me wrong.
I loved seeing him with Nova. The way he held her on his hip, bought her little snacks, talked to her in that soft voice while she babbled back at him with her little sixteen month-old self. It made my whole heart melt.
But that wasn't the point. The point was we was at Target, cause apparently Nova needed diapers and some other shit and every time somebody looked at us, they probably thought we was a whole family.
A couple. Together. Me pushing the cart with the diaper bag, him carrying Nova, her little hand patting his cheek while she said "Da-da" even though he wasn't her daddy.
But see that was the problem, we weren’t a couple. Cause after a whole fuckin' year, Trigg still ain't put no title on what we was doing.
"Aye, grab them Pampers," Trigg said, nodding toward the shelf while he adjusted Nova in his arms. She had her little fist wrapped around his chain, trying to put it in her mouth.
"Which size?"
"The purple pack. Size five."
I grabbed them and tossed them in the cart, watching as Nova reached for me. I took her from Trigg and she immediately laid her head on my shoulder, her little body warm and soft against me.
"She tired," I said.
"Yeah, she always crash around this time." Trigg looked at me and Nova, and something flickered in his light brown eyes before he looked away, his dimples showing when he smirked.
"Y'all look cute."
"Whatever."
"Nah, for real. You good with her."
I didn't respond. Just kept walking through the store with Nova in my arms, her little fingers playing with my hoop earrings. And I couldn't help but think about how this could be my life. Our life. If he would just stop being so fuckin' scared and actually commit to something.
We checked out and headed back to his car. a black Hellcat that he kept clean as hell. He put Nova in her car seat while I loaded the bags in the trunk. By the time I got in the passenger seat, she was already knocked out.
Trigg pulled out the parking lot, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on my thigh.
He was wearing a red Jordan hoodie, black jeans, and red and black jordans.
His waves was spinning, fresh from the barber, and his skin was that smooth toasted vanilla that looked golden in the sunlight.
He was fine as hell. Nigga looked like he shoulda been playing ball somewhere.
And I was so fuckin' gone over him it made me sick.
"You been quiet all day," he said, glancing at me. "What's good?"
"I'm cool."
"You lying."
"I'm not."
"Ya’Mya." He said my name like he always did, slow, with that little rasp in his voice that made my stomach flip.
"Talk to me."
I stared out the window for a minute, watching the city go by, before I finally said it.
"What is this, Trigg?"
"What's what?"
"Us. What we doing."
He sucked his teeth. "Man, we chilling. You know that."
"Chilling," I repeated, my voice flat. "We been chilling for a year now."
"And? We good, ain't we?" He shrugged, that cocky-ass smirk on his face. "I don't see the problem."
"The problem is I don't know what the fuck we are." I turned to look at him. "Like, what am I to you? For real."
"You my shorty."
"Your shorty? Nigga, that don't mean shit and you know it."
He laughed, actually laughed, like I said something funny.
"Man, why you tripping right now? We was having a good day."
"I'm not tripping, Trigg. I'm asking you a real ass question and you playing with me."
"I ain't playing. I told you what it is."
"You told me nothing!" I felt myself getting heated. "We been doing this for a year. A whole year. And we still moving like we sneaky links. Like we hiding or some shit."
"We not hiding—"
"Then what you call it? You don't post me. I don't post you. Your homies don't really know about me like that, we don't go on real dates unless it's last minute. Like, what the fuck?" He was quiet for a second, his jaw clenching,
"I don't do all that extra shit, Mya. You knew that when we started"
"Extra? Wanting you to claim me is extra?"
"Nah, but wanting me to post you on social media every five seconds and tell everybody our business is."
"I don't want you to post me every five seconds! I just want you to act like you actually fuck with me! Like I'm not just some bitch you calling when you bored!"
"Aye." His voice got deeper, more serious. "Watch yo’ mouth. you know you more than that."
"Do I?" I stared at him, waiting for him to say something that wasn't sarcastic or cocky. "Tell me what I am to you then."
He didn't answer. He just kept driving, his hand gripping the steering wheel tighter.
"That's what I thought," I said, shaking my head. "You can't even say it."
"Man, why you doing this right now?"
"'Cause I'm tired, Trigg!" My voice cracked and I hated it. Hated that he was making me feel like this.
"I'm tired of acting like this shit don't bother me. I'm tired of pretending like I'm okay with being your secret or whatever the fuck I am."
"You not my secret—"
"Then what am I?!" I was damn near yelling now. "Huh? What am I? 'Cause you can't tell me we just friends when you at my crib every other night. When you calling me when shit go wrong. When you look at me the way you do. So tell me, Trigg. What. Am. I?"
He was quiet again, and I could see his jaw working, them dimples popping in and out like they always did when he was thinking too hard.
"You mine, aight?" he finally said, but his voice was tight. Like he was annoyed.
"Damn. You happy now?"
"No, I'm not happy!" I snapped. "'Cause you only saying that shit 'cause I'm going off. Not 'cause you mean it."
"Man, I do mean it—"
"Nah, you don't. If you did, we wouldn't be having this conversation. If you did, you woulda been put a title on this. But you scared. You so fuckin' scared of commitment or feelings or whatever that you'd rather keep me in this weird ass limbo than actually be real with me."
"I ain't scared of shit."
"Yes you are!" I could feel tears burning behind my eyes and I refused to let them fall in front of him.
"You scared of being vulnerable. You scared of letting somebody in. You scared of me." He didn't say nothing to that.
"You know what? Forget it." I crossed my arms, staring out the window. "Take me home."
"Mya—"
"Trigg, I'm deadass. Take me home. I don't wanna do this right now."
"Man, you bugging. We in the middle of talking—"
"Ain't nothing to talk about. You don't know how to have a serious conversation without making a joke out of it. So just take me home."
I could see him looking at me out the corner of my eye, but I ain't look back. I was so mad. So hurt. So fuckin' tired of being in love with somebody who couldn't even admit he gave a fuck about me.
The rest of the ride was silent except for Nova's little snores in the backseat. When we pulled up to my crib, I ain't even wait for him to say nothing. I just grabbed my purse and got out.
"Ya’Mya," he called out, I stopped but didn't turn around.
"We gon' talk later, aight?"
"Ain't nothing to talk about, Trigg. You made yourself clear."
"Man, don't do that—"
"Do what? Leave? That's what you want anyway, right? Keep shit casual. No pressure. No title. No nothing." I finally looked at him, and I could feel the tears threatening to spill. "I'm good on that. For real."
I turned and walked into my house before he could say anything else, and I ain't let myself cry until I made it to my bedroom.
Fuck him for making me fall in love with him and being too scary to love me back.
* * *
Two days later, I was laid up on my couch in some shorts and a tank top, eating Hot Cheetos and watching Love & Hip Hop reruns when somebody knocked on my door.
I looked through the peephole and saw Yah-Yah standing there with two bags from Harold's.
"Bitch, you better have my lemon pepper wings," I said, opening the door.
"You know I do." She walked in and handed me one of the bags.
"I figured you needed this after that shit with Trigg the other day."
I took the food and flopped back down on the couch. "Girl, don't even get me started on his ass."
Yah sat down next to me, kicking off her shoes and tucking her feet under her. She looked cute as always.
"So what happened? You never texted me back."
"'Cause I'm over it." I opened the Harold's bag and grabbed a wing. "I asked him what we was and he gave me the runaround. Made jokes. Got all cocky and shit. Then when I pressed him, he acted like I was doing too much."
"Girl, aw hell nawl, this nigga wanna play games."
"Yes! And I'm so tired, Yah. Like, I been dealing with this nigga for a year. A whole year. And he still can't just say I'm his girl without me having to drag it out of him. I’m just mad at myself that I fell for his ass. I don’t fall for niggas, I’m too young and turnt for this shit man."
"Men are fuckin' annoying. They wanna act like they with you, treat you like you they girl, but soon as you ask for a title they wanna act scary."
"Exactly!" I bit into my wing. "Like, what you scared of? I'm already here. I'm already doing girlfriend shit. Just make it official."
"And what he say when you said that?"
"Nothing! He just kept saying we chilling and I'm his. Like, nigga, that don't mean shit." I took a sip of my drink. "I'm done, though. For real this time. I'm not about to keep begging a nigga to claim me. Fuck that."
"Period. You shouldn't have to." Yah grabbed a wing for herself.
"But girl, speaking of relationship problems..."
"What?"
She sighed, looking down at her nails. "I think Sosa might be talking to somebody else." I sat up straight.
"What? Girl, what happened?"