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for one nice boy, when I can have two or three? No, thanks, hun. I’ll leave all that stay-true-to-one-boo for you ’n’ Tone.”
    She curls her lip up. “Mmph. Looks like you got company.”
    I look over toward the house, ’n’ sure enough. There’s Benji—one of my ex-BWBs—standing on my porch, uninvited ’n’ unannounced. Now that’s a no-no. Still, I can’t help but lick my lips at the thought of seeing him stripped down to nothing but his boxers and Timbs.
    Anyway, I’d been messing with Benji since like the beginning of the school year up until three weeks ago, when I decided to finally chop him. But every now ’n’ then he still comes around. The thing with us, we had a special understanding. He didn’t sweat me. I didn’t sweat him. He wasn’t my man. Just a boo-daddy with benefits. So he did what he did ’n’ I did what I did. It cut down on all the drama. There was no cheating. No lying. And we both stayed very happy.
    Well, that’s until he no longer stayed on script ’n’ started tryna check for me like I was wifey. Stepping up to me at school tryna mark his territory. Getting all up in my face. Boy, bye! He mighta thought he was Ike, but I ain’t Tina ’n’ he ain’t beatin’ up this box. So, boom !
    â€œGirl, please. That boy ’n’ his love-stick are of no further use to me.” I open the car door.
    â€œCall me later,” she says.
    â€œOkay. Ummm, can I help you?” I say to Benji, shutting Miesha’s car door.
    â€œWhat’s goodie, yo?” A smile eases over his fine, brown face.
    I roll my eyes. “I don’t know what’s good with you . But I know what’s not goodie . And that’s you stalking my porch.”
    He chuckles. “Go ’head wit’ that, yo. Ain’t nobody stalkin’ you.”
    â€œUh-huh. Lies. But whatever! Why you here?”
    â€œWhat you think, yo,” he says, grinning again as I make my way up the stairs. Mmph. With his ole freak-nasty self. “I’m tryna chill.”
    I roll my eyes. “Define chill.”
    He sucks his teeth. “C’mon, yo. Don’t front. You already know what it is.”
    â€œUh, noooo. I know what it was. And I know what it isn’t. If you wanted to chill with me, you shoulda brought ya butt to school ’n’ chilled in class.”
    â€œNah, I’m good. I wasn’t beat today.” He tries to pull me into him. He smells of weed ’n’ alcohol.
    I frown, pushing him back. “Are you frickin’ kidding me right now? You’re lit up.”
    â€œNah. But I’m nice.”
    I sigh. A boy with no ambition, no motivation, no dang drive—other than gettin’ high ’n’ gettin’ his rocks off—is such a turnoff. I brush by him, opening the glass storm door.
    He steps up in back of me. “Don’t front, yo. You know we hot like fire together.” His breath is hot on my neck.
    I smirk. “Uh-huh. Hot fire or not, you ain’t gettin’ up in here, lil boo-daddy. So go have a seat. Ya heat ’n’ hot flames ain’t welcome here. So go take it over to some other ho’s spot ’cause you ain’t burnin’ up no sheets over here. Not today.” He tries to force his way in behind me as I slide my key in ’n’ open the door.
    He presses himself up into me. I bump him backward. “I know you straight up buggin’, boy.” He grabs me again. I push him off of me, again. “I’m not playin’, Benji. The only thing I want is for you to go home. Or get maced down. Now, good day! Please ’n’ thank you.”
    â€œOh, word? It’s like—”
    I slam the door in his face, then press my back up against the door ’n’ slide my way down to the floor. As sure as my name is Fiona, that boy’s lucky I knocked him outta his