CHAPTER 4 (THEN)

As I said, I was hell of a driver. The street lights shone in their orderly style, placed from the place we stood to the farthest reaches our eyes could see. Billy made me sit in one of his Subaru cars; I wasn't sure of the brand, but I knew it was quite the best Subaru motorcade car. 

Then the races started as the woman with the flags swung her voluptuous body.

I was hell of a driver, 30, 60, 120 km/hr... 

I was good with any speed, as long as the brake pedals worked perfectly. I won the first round, and so the Funzy man was to take the next roll. Outside, aside from the rest screaming and shouting, they were smoking and drinking aimlessly. I was no good drinker, is that good? No, let me put it this way, I was not one in love with alcohol. Yes, I did taste, but I just hated the taste... the bitter taste was always too much for my liking. It felt much like torture, especially with whisky and vodka... and they were the ones running the ballgame here. As the races were ongoing, I started checking around the place.

"What the hell was this place?" It was illegal…I found myself stating.., The car racing was illegal, and right after the thought, we heard some sirens from afar. 

People started running helter-skelter. 

As I started looking for the three men who brought me here, I was left with nothing but their uncaring absence. I would not be taken to a fucking police station; they were never easy on people, especially those with some sign of a black texture in them. 

Plan... yes... run... yes. 

As I started running, I felt a smooth hand touching my leg, as if not wanting to let go. There were other people still here, barely hanging on,,,to standing or even walking fast. They were super drunk and super high. They maybe heard the police siren as music in their ears. Bhang was one hell of a drug. 

"Yoh... policeman, you can't be touching me like that." And as I looked down, I saw her. It was that girl, you remember the one I told you'all about? The one who cleans every Saturday. Hell, if she weren't the one, well, the shawty had a twin. They looked exactly the same, and she seemed much more beautiful. The siren was much closer, very close. 

I felt someone had snitched on us. 

So, I tried helping the girl up; she could barely even feel her legs. Then I remembered the boys left their car in some parking, and so I carried the girl, steadying myself to handle the weight, as I headed that way. She was really drunk... y'all just know that. The car was there, luckily... but car keys? Not sure. So, I just put her next to the car, upright, laying her back on the car's side as she just stated the words, "I wanna go home, I wanna go home." She was such a baby, I found myself thinking, as I looked inside. They had left the car keys inside. These dudes feared no thief. So I just made a literal crack on the window, trying my hand with some iron string to hook the keys, and after a million trials and errors, it finally resonated with me, and I opened the door, right when the officers arrived.

However, they passed the place where the car was.., where we were, the officers in this city were slow. Fucking losers. If it were home, no one would have a chance to escape. The girl had already fallen asleep, so I carried her easily to the passenger seat, steadying her and adjusting the chair to perfect and complement her desire for sleep.

"Where is home?" I found myself asking her, after making sure I am well relaxed in my driver's seat and, hoping she would stay awake to talk. I would never bring her into my house; I'd rather pay for a hotel for her to sleep.

"We are neighbors," she stated, then chuckled a bit. "You like staring," she added, and then looked at me. Hell, I knew I had a look that needed to drink thirty glasses of water in one moment...

She was the one. Holy crap. Thought she was no drinker.

I just started the car, suddenly nervous about what she had said.

My heart had not succumbed to the depths and pains of heartache, barely. It was hard, man. I was one hell of a gangster. How the fuck do people get heartbroken anyway?

I had my little relationships before, back in high school and right before I came here. But if they were in love, sorry to say, but I was not in correspondence with the same. However, I do believe in soulmates and fairy tales about love. I buy my little sister books about Cinderella and princesses, Disney stories that will at least make her see the world as I see it. I do believe in love; I believe I shall find mine, and hell, she will be the luckiest girl. I shall bring heaven to her.

I did not care if people were taken or not. I just started my car and began driving. It wasn't mine, okay, but it was a car. I never owned a car; I would never pressure my mother into buying cars when she was barely managing to meet the needs of my little sister. The father of my sister? No idea. But either way, we were both her children. My sister was white, though, not of my mixture. She was really white, like a white kid, blemishless... blemishless, ha.

I was not quite sure about the area, but I drove along, checking the road signs of the areas I was heading to until I finally reached the road to my apartment.

After everything, I packed the car and headed to the little girl's passenger door. I opened it after moving outside.

"You really drink, huh?" I questioned as I tried to unbuckle her seatbelt. She positioned herself in a way that no man could resist checking her out. She faced me upwards, her full breasts, her full lips closed, the slight breath that came out of her well-positioned nose, and her closed eyes.

She was beautiful. She really was. Her prime years were full of her. They had really embraced her with the best of beauties. I never imagined her to be this beautiful. I was staring, really hard this time, really hard.

I knew I was, and I couldn't stop myself because, first, I never knew if I would have a chance the next day...

"You stare," she murmured.

"No... barely... I want you awake. We have arrived," I stated, trying to defend myself. I hated being told the truth of what I was doing. It felt really bad, and now I knew this girl would haunt me in my dreams, on my mind, in my soul, and everywhere. It seems fate had somehow honestly brought us together. It really had. "Come on," I added as I took her hand, trying to position her to hold my shoulders as I let her out.

"Do you live in the living room?" I asked again, not wanting to remind myself that I knew her room and, above all, all the activities she does... that is creepy of me.

"Apartment 6F, Second floor," she stated, and I helped her up after locking the doors. I helped her up by carrying her... God, what a hell of a meetup. As her room rang in my head, I knew it. Every man in this area knew it, and she barely brought any male friends, just her super gorgeous female friends. I wonder where they were in that hell of a party.

"Your keys," I stated to her as I now steadied her to stand, and she held my arm as she lay her head on my shoulder. I was not one of the gym-built men. I was skinny but tall. I sometimes feared ladies would reject me because I was skinny, but most seemed to have a liking for my height. After opening the door, I carried her again and entered the room, trying to force my shoes open and using my legs... clumsy indeed, and then entered.

It was a beautiful room, painted purple, and she blended the paint with her pink things and white, bluish lighting... well, the space was beautiful, the apartment was. So I just placed her on one of her couches and watched her. I wanted to leave. I really did.

My mind was screaming... LEAVE! Leave... motherfucker, she might have a boyfriend, leave!

But I just stayed, watching her as she fell asleep on the small couch.

Didn't she realize she was with a complete stranger? I found myself asking, but I brushed it aside after looking at her.

"She was beautiful, man. I don't know how many times I said that. What was her name... no idea."

"Hey... your name," I asked, the statement barely becoming a whisper.

"Catherine," she hummed in between her sleep, then smiled as she woke up, with sleepy eyes. "Toilet," she stated, then looked at me as she dashed past me with steady steps. I heard her vomiting and then flushing the toilet, and then she came back after washing up.

"Why do you drink?" she raised her eyebrows after I asked her that question.

Watching her, I was currently seated on her well grey fluffy carpets, beautiful indeed. Women had a life, barely in comparison to my crib.

"Do you judge drinkers too?" she asked, and I shook my head vigorously. I meant no harm in saying that.

Catherine was the word that was popping into my head.

"I think I should head out," I stated, and she just looked at me.

"Help me remove the makeup," she stated, and I was nervous again.

"What do you mean?" I asked again.

"I am just playing with you. You seem like a really cool man," she stated. "I missed a class today, I need to see that professor."

When women stated they needed to see a professor for something they missed, my head rang on a lot of things.

"To see the professor?" I asked again.

"Yes... to give him my cat," she stated.

"Is it in rule?" I asked, showing my demeanor of fear and protectiveness in one statement. These professors used women so badly sometimes, though.

"You can give it to his representative, send it to him via email, or just see him," she stated, then started laughing loudly, as my head clouded itself with its own judgment. "He is my uncle... you don't have to think much."

"She was a bright one," I found myself replaying in my head.

"I need to leave," I stated again, and she just nodded, looking up at me with a little face that seemed a little sad or pouty, some face women put on when trying to make their men stay or feel sad. I was not her man... no, I was not. Why would I stay anyway?

"Okay," she stated and walked me to the door. I wanted to hug her, I really did, but I just looked at her.

"Please send the assignment to the professor via email. I have a wifi network, a laptop, anything you need, just don't meet him... please, it is unprofessional," I was talking too much, something I did when I was nervous or scared of the outcome of something I found erroneous or out of acts. "I live not far, just a few rooms. I am free at night, really."

"At night?" she questioned, and a little smile formed on her face. Hell, she was one of a kind.

"I have very many classes in the day, weekends, but I do other things sometimes," I stated. "I just... anyway, good luck with your cat," I added and headed to my room as I heard her lock the apartment door steadily. 

I went back to stare at the door…, anyway, her door.

Our boy was in love,

Why did she do this? 

Why all these butterflies? 

Why am I suddenly nervous? 

Why am I scared of what she will do?

Catherine. 

Her name's Catherine. 

And I barely told her my name, barely.

Will she be of liking to it? I questioned.