Page 113 of The Richest Gangstas in the Room
"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 orwhatever 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."
