Ain't no hitta like the one I got: part one Read Online Free Page A

child belongs with their parent. Every Sunday morning my mother would basically cook fish and grits for her man, just thinking about food made my stomach grumble, so I went in my garbage bag that had my clothes in it and that Paper had put at the foot of the bed, and I got out a fresh pair of sweats and a hoodie, threw that on and put my hair back up in a tight bun. When I walked towards the kitchen, the house was quiet, I passed Paper still asleep on the couch, and I stopped briefly to get a really good look at him, I am not going to lie, he was cute, I liked the way that his waves were spinning, and he had a smooth paper bag brown complexion, he was tall and lanky, and he had pink full lips, and tattoos everywhere from what I could see even though he had a white t shirt on and baggy jeans. He looked so peaceful laying there sleeping that I decided not to wake him and instead go into the kitchen and fix breakfast for him and his grandmother. As I was looking in the refrigerator, I heard noise in the background, I turned around and noticed that Paper wasn’t on the couch anymore, I continued looking around until I found eggs, bacon, wheat toast, and fruit, and I started cooking before I knew it, I felt someone tap me on my shoulder, startled, I sprung around, and it was Paper, fresh out of the shower, in sweats, shirtless, and a towel around his neck, smelling like soap. He had the picture of the Brooklyn Bridge tatted on his chest. My heart beat quickened, I didn’t know why, maybe because I had never seen a real man with his shirt off before, well at least not this close up to me anyway.
    “What?” I asked unbothered.
    “Smells good”, he said sitting down at the table, “Too bad Grandma isn’t here to see Chef Will do her thing.”
    “Where is she by the way? And I already told you not to call me that, call me by my real name.”
    “Whatever Willemena, anyway she’s at Church, and I felt you looking at me this morning.”
    “So?”
    “So, why didn’t you just wake me up?”
    “I didn’t want to.”
    “Whatever.”
    I put both of our places down on the table, with forks and we both dove in.
    “So what’s your story”, he asked looking up at me, “Do you think that your man is going to be home today, and ya’ll gonna patch shit up? What were ya’ll fighting about anyway, he cheated?”
    I looked up at him and watched how he stuffed the food in his mouth, his plate was almost clean, should I tell him the truth? Fuck it; I might as well be honest. I thought to myself.
    “Listen, I lied, I don’t have a man, my mother threw me out, and I lived over there by Stuyvesant and Livonia Avenue.”
    “Dam, how old are you and do you have any more family that lives out here and where did you get those scratches on your face from? Someone beating on you?”
    “No, I had a fight earlier in the park, no I don’t have any more family and I am 17.”
    He dam near choked on his toast when he heard the last word. And we caught eyes.
    “How old are you?” I asked him.
    “21”, he said as he got up, and got the juice cartoon out of the refrigerator and drank it straight like that.
    I watched him walk out of the kitchen, and that was the last that I seen of him that day, as I stayed in his room watching T.V all day while he had out gone. Did I say something wrong? I don’t know. Maybe I was better off not telling him my business but it was too late now. I felt asleep, but was startled back awake when I heard a sound near the door. It was dark outside and Paper was standing near the bed.
    “You was in here all day? He asked me.”
    “Yeah.”
    “Did you eat?”
    “No.”
    “There’s a plate for you on the table”, he said walking away. I wanted him to talk to me some more and tell me how his day was, but he left out of the room so quickly and it just seemed like he was trying to avoid me. I went out to the kitchen and ate my food silently but I was very aware of Paper sitting in the living room. After a