one shots

shorty swing my way [8]

december 1998
saturday
1:43 p.m.

I slowly awakened, regaining my senses of touch and hearing before opening my eyes and adjusting to the brightness of the room. I rubbed my eyes a bit before rolling over to find DeAndré as dead as a doorknob.

With his mouth open a little, he slept peacefully, looking as cute as a puppy. It only reminded me of how I wanted a puppy more and more every day. I made a mental note to ask Lisa about what she thought about going down to the dog shelter and—

Lisa!

I quickly sat up and glanced at the time.

1:44 p.m.
Oh no.

I checked my pager, seeing that she hit me up multiple times today. The last time she said anything was about two hours ago.

"Fuck," I whispered softly, sliding out of bed. I limped toward the bathroom, where I brushed my teeth, turned on the shower, and rushed through my morning routine.

By the time I made my way out of the bathroom, DeAndré was awake and sitting at the foot of his bed.
"Where you goin?" he gazed up at me as I approached my Gucci bag.
"I-I promised Lisa that we'd get our hair and nails done, and I'm late, and she's probably mad as fuck at me right now," I pulled on a pair of underwear and a bra.

"Damn, shorty. I totally forgot about that. I wouldn't have kept you up so late, if I remembered. I'm sorry," he shook his head as I pulled on a pair of jeans.

I jumped around a little to assist in pulling them on, catching DeAndré smirking as he watched me. I blushed, finally getting them on and zipping and buttoning them up. I reached into my bag for a shirt but didn't find one.

"Fuck, how did I forget to pack a shirt?" I groaned.
"Just grab one of mine," he shrugged before laying back, propping himself up with his elbow being pinned into the bed.

I quickly headed into his closet, where I grabbed one of his button down shirts and buttoned only about three or four buttons before beginning to put on my sneakers.

"Hol' on, shorty. That reminds me. . . I got you some new kicks," he stood and headed to his closet.
"D, I really don't have time right now. Maybe I'll—"

"I'm not tryna' hear allat, Renée," he called from the closet.
I rolled my eyes and continued to tie my shoes.

I grabbed my pager and keys as he returned with a box in his hands. "DeAndré, I really can't right now. I'm sorry," I grabbed my bag and threw it onto my shoulders.
He kissed his teeth before setting the box down.

"Fine. I'll mail 'em or somethin'," he muttered.
"Thank you," I cooed before making my way downstairs and toward his front door.

He followed me closely as I put my hair into a messy pontail.

"I'll call you later. I just really need to fix this, okay? Bye, babe," I spoke before putting on my coat and unlocking the front door while he disarmed his alarm.
"Wait a minute, shorty," he took my hand into his, halting me from stepping onto his doorstep.

"What, D?" I playfully rolled my eyes while facing him.
"You leaving me without a fuckin' kiss," he smirked.
A smile slid onto my face easily. "DeAndré, you ain't even brushed your teeth yet."

"And? You're supposed to kiss my lips, not my teeth," his smirk grew into a smile.
"Not if yo' breath stank. Boy, move," I giggled as he pulled me closer and closer toward him, his arms wrapping around me.

"You ain't leavin' without a kiss, Nay. Now, come on," he said before stealing a peck from me. and another. and another.

I giggled softly before reciprocating his last two lip pecks.
"That's what I'm talkin' about," he smirked while slapping my ass.
"Bye, DeAndré," I rolled my eyes with an uncontrollable smile.
"Bye, Renée," he smiled back.