Free Cool Like That by Nikki Carter Page A

so far I’m doing that—just not with Ricky.
    I look at myself in the mirror before I leave for my date. I’m wearing hip-hugger jeans and a baby tee. Kinda casual and glam at the same time. I thought about wearing some cute shoes, but Rashad loves walking, so sneakers it is.
    I rush down the hall to the elevator because I’m trying not to run into Melody and Sienna. I think they went to a party, but better safe than sorry. They are all up in my bidness lately, and I can’t be sure they’re not taking stuff back to Ricky.
    Speaking of Ricky, guess who’s standing in the elevator as the doors open? Yep. Mr. Ricky Ricardo himself. For a split second, I consider taking the stairs, but that would just be too crazy, especially since Ricky is holding the door-open button.
    “Hey, Gia.”
    “Hey.”
    “How are your classes so far?”
    “Fine.” I give him a serious eye roll. Is that all he can think to ask me? Boo!
    “Are we not talking?”
    I shrug. “You’re the one who wanted to check me, Ricky. You tell me.”
    “I didn’t check you.”
    “You’re right. You didn’t check me, but you tried.”
    “Gia, why are you playing games? You know how I feel about you.”
    “No, I don’t, Ricky. One day you’re kissing my cheek and giving me butterfly clips, and the next you’re saying, ‘Let’s put crushes on hold.’ I think I know how you feel, but you change from day to day.”
    “And you don’t?”
    “Not like you. No.”
    “So tell me then, where are you going right now?”
    I pause for a second. What point does me going out with Rashad prove? That I like having fun?
    It definitely doesn’t prove anything about me being flaky. Because that I am not. This is all Ricky’s fault. If he had been true to me from the start, I wouldn’t have thought twice about Rashad.
    I decide not to answer Ricky’s question because I can show him better than I can tell him.
    Rashad is having a conversation with some other kids when I walk up but immediately stops talking when he sees me. Ricky keeps walking, but I don’t miss the stank look he throws my direction.
    “Hey, Princess. You ready?”
    I nod because I can’t speak. I have a huge knot in my throat, and I feel like I could burst into tears at any second. I hate that Ricky being mad at me makes me feel like this. Why can’t I be like a regular girl and have a different crush every month without a thought?
    This is way too stressful.
    It’s like my heart hurts or something. Ricky is my best friend, and we just keep arguing. Does this mean we’re not friends anymore if we can’t get along?
    Or maybe he’s changing. Maybe I’m changing. Maybe we’re both changing.
    “Are we going on the subway?” I ask.
    “No. It’s just a short walk. Is that cool?”
    “Yes.”
    It feels really strange spending time with Rashad alone at night. Is it my imagination, or is Rashad bumping into me on purpose? He’s walking so close to me his arm keeps brushing my arm. We’re not talking, but I suppose it’s because I haven’t said one word after hello. I’m not in a chatty mood.
    “We’re here,” Rashad says.
    Here is a tiny coffeehouse. We go inside, and the first thing I notice is the lack of tables and chairs. There are lots of sofas, love seats, beanbags, and pillows instead. In the front of the coffeehouse, a tiny girl with a head full of wild braids stands with a microphone in her hand.
    “Come on.” Rashad pulls me over to a wicker couch covered with pillows. “She’s about to start.”
    We sit down, and the lights dim. Rashad politely leaves space between us. Yeah, I appreciate him for that. We’re not up to the snuggling stage yet.
    A big voice comes out of the little girl.
    “He loves me.
    I can tell by his smile.
    He loves me not
    ’Cause he smiles at her and her too….
    His eyes, his walk
    His gangsta street talk
    Leave me mesmerized
    Entranced
    By his steez, his stance.
    His love is life
    And I wanna see him in mine.
    I tell him I love him a