Free Gettin' Hooked by Nyomi Scott Page B

slowed, his lips toying with mine, teasing and sucking before he lifted his head, the smile glittering in his eyes.
    His mouth was damp now, from our kiss and what had remained of my lip gloss, and I had to fight the desire to reach up and wipe the moisture away. Fight the urge to start laughing.
    â€œNo you don’t,” he repeated. “Not any more.”
    I shook my head; all that garbage I’d said about not giving a shit what Maurice thought was a frickin’ lie. I liked the boy, and after that kiss there was no more denying it. But so what. If he thought he could boss me around, tell me I couldn’t kiss other fellas while he did what he pleased, banged whatever chick was available, well then he had another thang coming.
    I pushed him hard in the chest, catching him off guard. He stumbled back a few steps. “You don’t own me, Maurice. I’ll kiss whoever I please.” And it didn’t matter that he was the only one I wanted touchin’ me. He wouldn’t know that.
    â€œAnd you want to be kissing Darian?”
    I shrugged, then added a smirk.
    â€œHold up, Imani, you tellin’ me he kissed you like that? He made you feel that? He ain’t got it like me, and you know it.”
    I huffed, jamming my hands on my hips again. I shoulda known; this wasn’t ’bout me, but his pride. “What I do know, Maurice, is I’m not your girl. And you are not my daddy. You don’t set my rules.”
    â€œThat’s not—”
    â€œLeave me alone. Just leave me alone.” I shoved him again, turning away. He tried to grab my sweatshirt again, but I sidestepped. “You actin’ like you want somethin’ that’s not being offered ta ya. Go find Brie.”
    And when I felt the burn of tears gather behind my eyes, I started running and prayed he wouldn’t come after me.

CHAPTER 9
    â€œImani Lane, to the administration office.”
    Snap, the bell had just rung and I hadn’t even taken my seat in my first-period class when the intercom beeped, then called me up. Amidst the laughter, hoots and oooohhhsss from my classmates, I gathered my stuff into my pack and flung it over my shoulder, then aimed for my teacher’s desk.
    â€œYou gettin’ suspended?” some dude called across the room.
    â€œOoohh, Imani’s in trouuuuuble,” others teased. “Whatcha do, girl?”
    There was no guessing why I was being called to the office. I knew exactly why. And though I hadn’t been fighting, my eye told a different story. Dark purple beneath my eye and a swollen upper lid stood as evidence that I’d taken the brunt of Michelle’s runaway punch.
    I shrugged at the class, trying to look all casual, like being called to the office really didn’t bother me. They all knew why I was being called up, too. Shoot, word like this travels fast around the folkies at Howard.
    My cell had been blowin’ up since Saturday evening and my e-mail box had been crammed full with all these fools wantin’ the inside info on what had gone down outside of Starbucks.
    My classmates kept laughing until Ms. Sanders told everyone to sit down and get out their journals, then she scribbled her initials onto a hall pass and handed it to me.
    As I walked down the hall headed for the admin office, I wondered how much I was supposed to tell Mr. Alton, Howard’s principal, about the fight, but I was no narc. I’d try to keep Michelle out of trouble as much as possible, because fa sheezy, the fight didn’t take place on school property or during a school event, so I wasn’t feelin’ why it’d be their business.
    A fight off campus was for our parents to deal with. Leza may have been folded, but that didn’t have junk to do with school. And, I hadn’t even been in it, though deep down I couldn’t help this whack feelin’ that it was still my fault. My fault because of GettinHooked.com and the fact that