"AND1!" I yelled, dunking the ball in the net.
"I haven't seen you play this aggressively in... years. What's your deal?" Dean wiggled his eyebrows at me as I chucked the ball at him.
"It's nothing," I insisted.
Except it wasn't nothing.
I was beginning to get uncomfortable with how casual of a flirt Dalia was. Every single time she spoke, she said something that made the hairs on my neck stand up along with other anatomy that was harder to hide.
Except I wasn't actually uncomfortable with the casual flirting, or the conversations, but rather how insane all of it was making me feel. I'd gone from stalking the girl at her home and school to playing basketball to relieve stress for the first time in years. I'd pretty much retired the sport completely after I took up photography, with the rare exception of casually playing with Dean at our neighborhood blacktops.
It turned out the crush that I'd developed nearly instantly after meeting Dalia was sustaining itself. Strong.
And I had no idea what to do about it.
My first instinct was to ignore it, which I was trying to do, but I found myself word-vomiting to my friend.
I was especially stressed after she fell asleep at the bartop and instead of waking her up and closing up. I mindlessly listened to her snore while I scrolled through Pinterest on my computer. It wasn't until her mother came in to close up that she made us get up and go home. My face still burned red at the memory.
"I don't really have that much dating experience, and there's this girl..." I scratched at my sweaty neck under my hair that was tied in a low sloppy ponytail at the nape of my neck.
I had Dean's attention now. "I don't think she likes me like that. I don't even know the signs. And she like, compliments me and seems to find me objectively appealing, but like not subjectively? If that makes sense?"
He snorted. "I've dated plenty, and I'll tell you, it doesn't get any easier to understand them even with experience. Every person's different in general, I guess. What makes you think she's not into you?"
"I kind of think she might be too good for me or something. She comes from a lot more and has this confidence... even when she's being nice it feels like she's talking down to me. And we're really different. And I'm pretty sure she's using me to win an art competition. I dunno."
"In my experiences, no matter how much they say otherwise, girls love being impressed. You're an impressive dude. Just wow her."
"How are you and that dark-skinned beauty from Trent?" I asked, not even trying to be discreet.
"Wait. Were you talking about her?" He whipped his head around at me from where he originally faced the rim, looking exasperated.
"Nah," I snorted. "But I take it you're still chipping at the ice."
"She likes nerds apparently."
"I don't even know what Dalia likes for real," my eyes widened as I realized I had a Freudian Slip moment.
"Ah. So you got ahold of her after staring a hole into her hair at movie night, I assume?"
"I'm surprised you even noticed with how you were dressing Wendy down."
I'd spent the better half of my early Saturday out with Dean. Dalia and I had yet to make significant progress on our competition piece, but we had a theme. That was the most important part. However, my brain stalled when it came to continuing my train of thought past the concept. As much as I wasn't originally interested in this project, Dean's words about impressing women stayed imprinted on my mind. I remembered Dalia's genuine compliments of my work and artistry, and how validated it'd made me feel; I had the opportunity to do that again and again if I could just get this project right.
I was still unsure about what her capacity would be, but I'd honestly be content with her just being there for moral support, breathing the same air as me. But, she was ultimately using me. She'd never seen or known or inquired about me outside of my work and connection to her family, and despite her nice words, she had another world outside of me that she was trying to supplement by winning Young Art.
Wait, another world...
Was this girl even single?
She hadn't mentioned any kind of partner, but I had no way of really knowing. She hadn't gone to the movie night with a date, and I distinctly remembered her in her bedroom saying she didn't like men or women, but I didn't think she meant it in an asexual way. I hoped. My hopes went up and down at a rate that couldn't be safe for my health.
I decided that instead of ruminating on questions about this girl and her life, I could just text her. Or call her. Or see her. I had those privileges via our partnership now, and I'd been too pussy to utilize them as of yet. My curiosity was burning up inside of me, though, and that emotion clashed with my anxiety about communicating with her all the same.
Ultimately, I decided to grab my phone and text her.
Dean, who'd been standing there and allowing me silence to ruminate on my thoughts, made eye contact with me as I grabbed my phone from the park bench. "Going somewhere?"
"Yeah, back home. I gotta get some things together for this art competition."
"Alright. Hit me if you need anything," he assured.
"I will."
With that I swiftly walked back to my house up the hill and in the culdesac. I could've texted Dalia on the way, but this task required focus. It required confidence. I had to be clean, firstly, and the basketball slick covering me like a second skin wasn't going to bode well with me.
There were ten thousand people home, seeing as it was a Saturday. Most of my family had the day off work. There were three generations of us living in one decently sized house. That would be fine if we weren't a ten-piece trying to fit into a four-piece.
I was happy when I got to work at the photo studio, because despite it being my job, it allowed me more privacy and quiet than my house had done for a long time. I'd been sharing a bedroom for as long as I could remember, and sharing everything else too. I loved my family, dearly, and aimed to be able to take care of them, but being around people 24/7 wasn't good for anyone. Especially creatives. It was part of the reason I'd been content to just let Dalia sleep even though she was supposed to be looking at Pinterest inspo too.
I stayed with my mother, both grandparents (on her side), three siblings, an uncle, and two cousins. I'd originally roomed with my little brother, but since my cousin Wes and I were closer in age, and it began seeming like their temporary stay would be permanent, we roomed together instead. It was better for me, because Wes worked, but I never felt like my silence was prolonged.
My grandparents were both getting elderly and had increasingly more needs as far as care went. My family would never let them move into a nursing home, hence all of us shacking up together. Not to mention, healthcare was expensive for people who barely had proper retirement. The money we saved on separate housing went to making sure they could be and stay as healthy as possible.
My job meant I could provide for them, and for that, I was grateful.
I rushed into my bedroom, hoping to avoid too much conversation before I got to talk to Dalia. Wes laid in his bed, leg bent up on the bed and his phone to his face. "What's up, cuz?"
"Just taking a shower," I said, briskly.
I got in and out as fast as possible and sat on the toilet bowl to text her, finally.
I was pleasantly surprised to see that she'd texted first.
Hey was all she'd given me, but boy did i intend to milk it for all it was worth.
L - Hey Lia, what's up?
D - Ooh Lia, that's new
L - Do you not like it?
D - It's cute. I haven't gotten many nicknames in my day
L - Day Day?
D - Hell no.
L - LMFAOOOOO
I waited for a second after sending that.
But what did you text for again?
Idk I just felt like we should probably talk outside of the comp. If we wanna win we can't be strangers right
She had to be a mind reader. My optimism and hope bubbled up in my chest again, making me believe that she'd been thinking about me like I'd been thinking about her.
L - Let's play 21 questions
D - Don't be a creep. Please omg the competition relies on you not being a creep
L - NOT LIKE THAT LMFAO like legitimate 21 questions. Non-perverted edition like what's your favorite color type shit. But I'm guessing it's probably purple from seeing your room.
D - It is. I guess I'll start then.
D - Hm...
D - What do you use in your hair?
I smiled to myself. This meant she liked my hair, right?
"The fuck you over there smiling for?" Wes laughed from the other side of the room.
"Fuck up," I waved my hand at him.
L - Something by Cantu, I think? And then that Pink lotion that every Black person puts in their kids hair
D - Cantu omgggggg you're such a man. Cantu's trash. You're lucky your hair is bomb in spite of that filth you're polluting it with. You'll have to learn, yes yes.
L - Feel free to give suggestions lol. What do you use in yours?
D - It's a lot to describe over text. I'll just show you next time you stalk me at my home. That still technically counts as a question, though.
I partially was disappointed that she hadn't actually answered the question, and I still had yet to learn about her, but I was more excited that she'd basically invited me back to her house. I'd take it.
D - Do you have your license?
L - Yep. No car, though. I live with like half of my family though, so I've never really thought to get one of my own. I drive my cousin and uncle's cars whenever they're free. Wbu?
D - I keep saying I'm gonna get mine but I think I just might be meant to be a passenger princess. I can't drive at all and it's becoming a problem lol.
D - What's the most impulsive thing you've ever done?
I bit my lip, thinking.
"Yo, you good?" Wes chuckled next to me. "Got a girlfriend finally?"
That solidified it. I wanted to keep talking to Dalia, but I didn't have any privacy here to call her or even continue texting her. I got up and asked, "Can I use your car? I'll be back by tonight."
He squinted his eyes at me. "Yeah. My keys are on the rack in the foyer."
"Like always. Thanks cuz," I scooted my feet into my slides before brushing down the stairs and out the door.
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