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Chapter Ten

CREED CRAWFORD

Two months later

“Good job on your victory Creed. We’re all so proud of you,” Vivian, one of the cheerleaders at my school said to me. We were all at the skating rink, celebrating.

It was Friday night, and me, along with damn near everyone on the baseball team, and others from my school had come out, so that we could celebrate our victory tonight.

We’d won the state championships. That was big for our school because our school baseball team hadn’t won the state championships in years.

Everyone was happy for us. People that I’d never even spoken to were walking up to me all night, congratulating me, and giving me other kind words.

Shit, even Vivian’s ass, and I’ve known this damn girl for years.

We’ve been in the same private school for years, but she’s never approached me.

Me, and my brother were smart, so I took a lot of honors classes, and Vivian did as well, so over the years, me, and her have been in some of the same classes.

Her pops was a prosecutor. Just growing up with her, and going to the same school, I’ve seen him at school events, so I just remember my pops pointing him out, telling me who he was, and letting me know that he didn’t like him.

He felt like he was a racist son of a bitch.

Him, and my pops have been in the same courtroom before, working on cases together, and each time that he went against my pops, he would get his ass handed to him in court.

Because of that, I truly believed that that was the reason why Vivian never talked to me all these years.

I thought her dad might have got in her ear about me, telling her that I was a Crawford boy, and for her to leave me alone, but judging that she walked up on me, all smiles, praising me for my victory, he probably didn’t tell her that after all.

Well, maybe he did, and she was just choosing to be rebellious, and not listen to him, which was what most teenagers would do in the first place.

“I appreciate that,” my response was dry, not about to jump up and down, all excited because a white girl had decided that she finally saw me, and she wanted to congratulate me.

White girls weren’t even my type, to be honest. I loved black girls.

I loved that ghetto shit. Even though I was only fifteen years old, those ghetto girls were my weakness.

I went to a predominately white school, so the kind of girls that I liked, they didn’t attend the same school as me.

I would meet those kinds of girls whenever I would hang out with my best friend, Quay.

Quay was from Miami gardens, and he attended public school out that way.

I knew Quay because we went to the same church growing up.

I’ve slept over that nigga house when we were younger, and he’s slept over mine.

I was cool with his mama. She treated me, and Legend like we were her boys.

Same with my parents. Whenever Quay stays the night over, you couldn’t tell my parents that Quay wasn’t there son.

I loved Quay like he was my second brother.

He’d come out to the game tonight to support me, and he was right here, standing next to me, and I could hear him giggling on the side of me, as Vivian was still standing here.

I was thinking that after I’d thanked her for telling me congratulations, that she would have walked away, but she didn’t.

She stood there, and about three of her friends were standing behind her.

Even though white girls weren’t my type, I would give credit where credit was due and say that Vivian was truly a beautiful girl.

She was tall, and slim. With her height, and her shape, I knew that she could easily be a top model.

Her hair was an ash blonde color, and her eyes were baby blue, looking like the color of the ocean.

She came from money, just like I did, and you could see the money on her from the clothes that she was wearing, the purse on her shoulder, and the pricey watch that was on her wrist.

There was a white Chanel purse on her shoulder, and I knew that purse was costly because my mama was the Chanel queen.

There wasn’t a Chanel purse that she didn’t have.

My pops had got Legend and I Rolex watches, and Vivian had one too, but the one she had on was iced out.

She was looking at me like she wanted to eat me alive, and all I could hear was my mama in my ear, telling me that I needed to leave white bitches alone, but I stood here, finding myself struggling with that.

“You want to take my number down?” she asked, shocking me with her words. Even with me being attracted to her and feeling like I was getting ready to fall for this shit, I had to ask her some questions first.

“If I had never helped my team win the championship game, would you have asked me for my number?” I wanted to know.

She had been smiling, but the second that question rolled off my tongue, the smile was immediately dropped from her face.

She didn’t frown though. There was just a standard look on her face, as she looked at me in a way, as if she was trying to process how she should respond.

“You really think that I would be that shallow? I’ve always wanted to be your friend, Creed.

You just always looked so angry. I was afraid to approach you,” she said.

I really didn’t know if she was telling the truth or not.

It wasn’t like what she said was a false statement.

I had a permanent mug, just like my pops.

For me to show that side of myself where I could be playful, and laugh and shit with you, that means I truly fucked with you.

Even though I would walk around with a mug, that didn’t mean that I was angry though.

I could be soft as a teddy bear, I swear.

My soft spot was my mama. I was a straight simp when it came to my ol’ girl.

I carry on like I was a grown man, that was too tough for certain shit, but I’ll climb in the bed with my mama in a second, watching TV with her, or just any other kind of bonding that I liked to do with her.

“So, now you not afraid to approach me anymore?” I asked her, and she chuckled.

“You want my number or not?” she asked. With a smirk on my face, I turned to look at my nigga Quay, and he shrugged his shoulders, and basically told me to go for it.

I knew that would be his reaction though.

This nigga was the same age as me, but he had been fuckin since he was twelve.

He would fuck anything walking. He didn’t have a type.

If she had a pussy, he would slide up in her.

The way I saw it was just because we exchanged numbers, it didn’t mean that I had to take her serious.

I had a heart at the end of the day, and when it came to girls, I knew that I could be an asshole, talk to a bunch of different girls at one time, but I always like to think of my mama, or the little sister that I once had, and think to myself that I would never want a nigga out here dogging them out, and embarrassing them.

Because I didn’t want to embarrass her in front of her friends, I dug in my pocket, unlocked my phone, and I handed it to her.

She keyed her number in, and I watched as she dialed the number, so that she could call her phone, and she would have my number as well.

Before she walked off, she congratulated me again.

It just left me with Quay, and some of the niggas that he’d come to the skating rink with.

“I know you don’t like white girls, but you gotta make an exception for her. That bitch is beautiful. You gone hit?” Quay wanted to know.

“I don’t know if I’m going to entertain her.

I gotta see what she talking about first. White girls be having fantasies, and shit.

I don’t want her to only want me because she trying to see what it feels like to have a black dick up in her.

On top of that, man I been knowing that girl since we’ve been in first grade, I think.

She ain’t ever say two words to me. Suddenly, I won a state championship, and she walking over here, wanting my number, and shit.

These the white girls that my pops told me to look out for.

He said that when I make it big, they going to be on my dick, trying to fuck with a nigga, thinking that they going to get some money, and shopping sprees out of me,” I responded, and Quay nodded his head to that.

“If it was a white bitch that didn’t have shit, I would be on your side 100%, but she different bro.

She casually came over here, rocking a purse that cost like 8 bands.

Then, I know that the iced-out Cartier watch on her wrist had to cost at least twenty racks.

I don’t think she need you for your money, bruh.

What her people do? You know?” he asked.

“Her pops is a prosector. Him, and my pops went against each other a few times in court, and her daddy lost each time that he went against mine. I know her mom works in that same field. They got money though. Her daddy got a mean car collection, just like my pops. She be wearing Chanel, Louis Vuitton , and Gucci purses to school like its nothing,” I shared, and he nodded his head.