Jarrod Moody is my other best friend and the guy named class clown when we were in high school because there isn’t a situation he won’t find humor within.

“It ain’t that damn funny, nigga,” I snap.

“Shid. Were y’all in one of the areas where the cameras are? I need to see something,” Desi interjects.

“Shut the fuck up with your crying over Chardonnay bitch ass,” I snap.

“Ooh, you big mad, huh?” Desi laughs.

“Right. His ass is probably over there about to burst a vessel in his eye and everything. It’s okay, bro. We won’t tell nobody but the team you went out like a sucka.” Jarrod interjects.

“Fuck off my phone.” Disconnecting the three-way call, I toss my phone aside, still reeling over Desi and Jarrod finding humor in my being shot down.

My ego still feels the sting of Ms. Chaniya turning me down, because I found a woman enticing for the first time in a long time. Generally, I let my dick lead me into relationships, but encountering and conversating with Chaniya had me reaching an epiphany. The sad part is I have never fumbled speaking to a woman before, and my inability to say the right things had me out of sorts. It’s also crazy because my tongue didn’t get tied when I saw her in the grocery store.

It was coming, which is why your ass got out of dodge before you could look lame. Although you ended up doing that anyway. Sad shame.

*ding, ding*

Back-to-back notifications sound from my phone, forcing me out of my head to grab the device.

Jarrod: Awe, G man. Do you need a hanky?

Desi: Or some Kotex? Midol?

Jarrod: I can bring you some chocolate and a blankie to go with your hurt feelings if you want, pumpkin.

Desi: Bro, your ass is wild. Did you just call that nigga pumpkin? Lmao.

Me: Didn’t I tell you fuck niggas to get off my line. Why the fuck are y’all still talking to me?

Desi: See, I told Mama Adele not to let your ass wear those bobo’s to school in sixth grade. Now look, your ass ain’t learn the concept of sticks and stones. Damn shame, bro.

Jarrod: Wait, this nigga wore shoes that snapped across the foot with Velcro? Say it ain’t so. Damn, no wonder this nigga is being rejected by hot women and shit. She probably can still smell the knockoff residue on his ass.

Me: Fuck you niggas

Jarrod: Type *11 if you need me to buy you some of the latest K. Patt Kicks. I know you wannabe doctors are surviving on oodles and noodles and shit. I’m my brother’s keeper, so I don’t want to see you go out like this.

Desi: No, for real. You know bro stay eating oodles and noodles. Lmao.

Feeling the vein in my temple pulsate out of control, I mute the group chat and then silence my phone before locking the device. I ain’t got to be playing with Desi and Jarrod’s asses. I have been off work for hours, and I’m still in my feelings about not securing a connection with Chaniya.

“Damn. How the hell did I fuck that up with Chaniya?” Hanging my head, my mind flashes back to how my conversation with Chaniya ended.

“I can’t get a drink with you, Germayne. Although he’s an ass and skating on thin ice, I’m in a relationship with the man I was talking to earlier.”

“Hm. He doesn’t deserve you. Any man who doesn’t value you enough to discuss your differences privately is incapable of holding a place in your heart.” Subconsciously, I rub Chaniya’s hand but stop when a jolt of awareness surges through my body.

What the fuck was that?

“I hear you, and I’m not disagreeing, but until I’ve closed the door on what we have, I can’t accept your offer for a drink or anything else. It’s a respect th?—”

“You don’t have to sell me on your reasons. While I may not like it, I definitely respect it. It’s another reason you are a diamond who shouldn’t live in the rough.”

“I hear you. Believe me, I do. Nevertheless, he’s who I’m with at the moment.”

Something about the inflection of Chaniya’s words cause a lopsided grin to slide into place because all I hear is that nigga is on his way out the door. Nodding, I smile while taking slow steps backward.