Page 12 of It’s The Dawg In Him For Me

“What the fuck were you doin’?!” she asked while checking her car first, then she looked me up and down.

“Nah, I'm good, ma. My bad, I ain’t mean to hit you.” I walked over and looked at our cars. It was a lil’ ass scuff on her bumper, nothing that I couldn’t handle.

“Your bad? You almost sent me through the windshield.”

“Man, cut that shit out, shorty. You barely got touched,” I said, trying to keep from smiling . “But my bad, for real though.”

She sucked her teeth, arms crossed, still looking at me like she was deciding whether she wanted to fight or not. And I ain’t gonna lie, something bout her had me stuck. Wasn’t even about how she looked, even though she was bad, no cap. Slim thick, brown skin, long black hair. Her style was untouchable. I never seen a bitch around Brooklyn dress like her.

But I could tell she wasn’t no soft bitch. I might be able to have her wrapped around my finger, but it was going to take some work.

“You from around here?” I asked.

“Why? You tryna follow me home?” she shot back.

I laughed for real that time. “Nah, ma. I was tryna get your number so I could make sure you was good after this—make sure you’re taken care of.”

She looked at me sideways like she was trying to find the catch in it. “I'm good. I don’t need you to check on me.”

I raised my hands in the air. “Aye, okay. My fault for carin’. That’s just the type of nigga I am.” I started back toward my car, leaving her standing there watchin’ me. I knew what I was doin’. She was a fly chick, and I’ma fly ass nigga. I could tell she didn’t chase, and I didn’t either.

“Wait,” she said quick, like it slipped out before she could stop it.

I turned back around, and she was standing there with her arms still crossed, but her face didn’t have the same edge to it anymore.

“Was you at a block party around here the other night?”

I nodded. “I was.”

“I see you,” she said low. “You bumped into me.”

I shook my head. “Looks like I been tryin’ to get your attention.”

She gave me a slight smile and walked over to me with her hand out.

“What?”

She rolled her eyes. “Give me your phone.”

I unlocked it and passed it to her. She typed her number and saved it.

“I'm Nylah,” she said as she handed my phone back to me.

“I'm Rosama…”

She smiled, and without another word, she walked back to her car like the whole thing didn’t mean shit to her.

I hopped in my car, watched her pull off, and sat there for a second after staring at her name in my phone. I couldn’t explain it, but something about that lil’ interaction had my mind stuck the whole rest of the drop and the whole ride back to Brooklyn.

When pulled back up on the block, Dre was still on the stoop, but a few of our partnas was out there with him.

I hopped out my car, lighting my blunt.

“Damn nigga, what happened to you? I had to hit a few licks for you.”

I dapped my niggas up as I walked up the steps and took a seat on the ledge.

“I think I just met my wife.”