The Build Up (19)

Weak game aside, it pleasantly surprised me that Jamal remembered me. “Wow! McGrew! That’s taking it way back. Yeah, I was—well am—still friends with Bella. And she’s Bella La Croix now.” Hampton wasn’t a huge university by most standards, so students formed close-knit circles. All I had was choir and Bella. Who would have thought someone other than my fellow His Chosen Sounds choir alumni would recognize me? I had to have been at least forty pounds lighter. Still a fluffy, plush girl, but certainly not my current size. I also wore the worst bob haircut on the planet. It looked like Edward Scissorhands did it. Such is the life of a broke college student who had to do her own hair. I’m not proud of that moment in my life.

“I knew you looked familiar! You were in Gospel Choir with her too, right?”

I shouted over the speakers, which were now blasting Nirvana. “Yeah, I was. We were. Bella and I are still close. She’s in Atlanta now. Married with two kids. Twins.”

“Man, the whole Gospel choir was fine as hell. And could blow! Porter wouldn’t know that. He never made it to chapel. Too hung over from the night before! Right, P?” Jamal nudged Porter, who wasn’t the least bit amused. He simply grunted something inaudible and took another sip of his beer.

Jamal laughed, as he rubbed his chin. “Man, I had a serious crush on Bella. She was so fine.”

I playfully swatted Jamal’s arm. “Hey, who didn’t! She’s still fine, but don’t talk about my friend like she’s a piece of meat!”

“Oh! So, she’s a MILF!”

We both laughed. I looked over at Porter, whose annoyance at Jamal interloping on our “date” seemed to grow. In all fairness, didn’t he say it wasn’t a date and I wasn’t his girl? With that, Jamal assumed it was fair game to talk to me. I already had peeped that. Trust me, if he asked me out, I was going to say no. I can’t deal with the Jamals of the world. The combination of loud, brash, cocky, and handsome was something I’d had enough of. Porter’s obvious annoyance at the possibility that I’d entertain Jamal’s flirting was cute.

Before Jamal could continue going down Hampton memory lane, Porter interrupted. “Yeah, man, we were just about to finish up. Go order some burgers. So...” He hooked a thumb toward our booth.

I looked at Porter and then Jamal, who looked at Porter, then back at me. Jamal nodded and smiled, finally getting the hint that he’d overstayed his welcome.

“Oh, my bad! Don’t want to hold y’all up. Good to see you, Frat. And good seeing you again, Ari. Tell Bella I said what’s up. I’ll find you on the socials. If you ever need a house, I’m your guy. The market is hot right now.” Jamal slid us both business cards before rejoining a group of friends at the skee-ball machine.

I slid the sleek black card in my dress pocket and turned back to look at Porter, whose nostrils were flaring. I should fuck with him.

“Small world. He seems like a nice guy,” I said as nonchalantly as possible. “Want to play another round of pool?” I looked toward Jamal and his crew. “Maybe some skee-ball?”

Porter rolled his eyes and grabbed the rest of his beer with force off the edge of the pool table. I watched as the foam sloshed onto the floor like a tidal wave. Porter drained his glass of beer, sitting it down on a nearby table with a loud thud.

“Come on. Let’s get those burgers I promised you.”



Chapter Eight


Porter


Once seated at our table, I signaled the grizzly waiter for a pitcher of beer and glanced down at the menu, occasionally looking up to see if Ari was doing the same. Once the beer arrived, I downed a glass quickly, trying to cool off. Jamal was just being Jamal. I should have known as soon as I introduced Ari as my coworker and nothing more, Jamal would try to go in for the kill. Did he really remember Ari? Maybe it was a lucky guess. But I get it. Ari is beautiful and I would have been pulling out all the stops, too. But Jamal? He was a dog. I wouldn’t hook my sister up with him if I had sisters. Not that I looked at Ari like a sister. Not in the least. But Ari deserved better than a dude who’d sexed an entire floor of a dorm and a few TAs.

But the truth of the matter was, Ari was not my girlfriend. I had no right to be territorial.

So why was I acting like a jealous boyfriend?

Just then, my cell phone buzzed. It was a text. From Jamal. This motherfucker.

“Sorry, Ari it’s...my mom,” I lied. I was a terrible liar, but I was hoping Ari wouldn’t catch on.

“Oh sure. It’s cool,” she said as she continued to peruse the burger selections.

I read Jamal’s text.

Jamal: My bad, Frat. I ain’t know you was trying to tap that. Trust, she’s had a major glow up. She’s a baddie, now.
Furiously, my fingers flew across the screen:

I’m not trying to tap anyone. But I knew what you were trying to do. And trust me, she’s not your type. You know you ain’t shit, Jamal.
Jamal wrote back: LOL You’re right, Frat. I ain’t shit. She fine though, man. Thicker than cold grits. If you don’t smash those cakes, you a punk ass b...

I forcefully swiped the screen and closed my texts before I could even read the rest. I picked up my menu and looked over it at Ari. She was staring at me with gentle, concerned eyes.

“You okay?”

“Oh yeah. It’s all good. Wh...why do you ask?”