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As star player on the school’s basketball team,
Sometimes, when Shaun didn’t have basketball practice, he’d hang around Kemetic Pages for my entire shift.
As the years passed, I watched girlfriends come and go, soon understanding that I was lucky to just be his friend.
Unlike with most people, he never made me feel uncomfortable.
staring down each of those corny niggas that seemed to think embarrassing Caprice was so damn funny.
I wish I could say Paris was the first girl to have me make that dumbass decision, but that’s how all my relationships ended.
Caprice has no idea that none of my relationships worked because girls don’t like the fact that my best friend is another girl. Even worse, a pretty girl.
If there’s one thing I hated seeing, it’s seeing Caprice cry.
Caprice was the person who mattered most in my life. It didn’t make sense to a lot of people, but I didn’t need it to make sense to them.
If not for the fact that she hated being touched, I would’ve asked her to be my girl a while ago.
I wasn’t exactly secretive about who I had always wanted.
She didn’t like hugs. If I got too close, she tried to be subtle when she backed away. She wasn’t the touchy feely type.
Caprice would use her things until they’d begin falling apart.
Sometimes I felt like Caprice’s sadness was always deeper than it should’ve been,
she wasn’t officially mine, did not mean I took kindly to dudes tryna run game on her.
“Alabama?” Caprice’s voice had that same surprised tone when she questioned back, “Ms. Kelly?”
Caprice—whether she acts like it or not—is a very pretty girl.
A growing list of from-afar admirers that clearly made her skin crawl.
I’d swear he was touching me in other ways, without his hands.
his gaze felt like gentle caresses on my skin.
“It’s you and me. Till we’re old as fuck.”
Caprice didn’t understand what I had meant when she asked me that. I didn’t want a “what.” I wanted a “who.”
Call me crazy, but it always felt like Caprice was mentally preparing herself to go home.
began to wonder if going to sleep hungry was a thing she did often.
My mom liked Caprice more than she liked me.
“You’re cooking for her now.”
She knew what this was for me seven years ago, when she found me up before dawn, waiting to walk Caprice to school.

