Caught Up by Amir Abrams

I’m a cornball?”
    He grinned. “Nah.” He leaned over and kissed me on the lips then. “I think you’re mad sexy. Real sweet.”
    I’m not going to lie. He made me blush. And there was something about the way he stared into my eyes that made me excited. I mean, really, really excited. Like I wanted to make out with him right there in the parking lot of WaWa’s.
    â€œI really like you, yo,” he said, kissing me one last time before I climbed out of his car and made my way back home—at almost two thirty in the morning. Even though he wanted to drive me all the way to my house, I wouldn’t let him. I didn’t—and don’t—want him or anyone else to know where I live. Even if he does know that the area is really nice. He still doesn’t know exactly how nice. It’s not something he needs to know.
    I climbed back up the side of the house and slipped back into my bedroom, breaking a nail in the process. But it was well worth it.
    Will I do it again?
    Ummm. Maybe not. We’ll see. Okay, okay... probably. But only if there’s something going on that I really want to be a part of. Then, yes. I think I will. Okay, okay... I know I will.
    Fingers crossed, I don’t ever get caught.
    â€œUmmm, no thanks,” Hope says, pulling me from my thoughts. I look over at her as she’s shaking her head. “She won’t be getting my money.”
    â€œWho won’t be getting your money?” I ask.
    Hope sighs. “Jennifer Hudson. Weren’t you listening? I was telling Jordan that I’ll sit this one out. I’m not interested in seeing her C-list acting in any movie.”
    â€œOhmygod, Hope, that’s so not nice,” I say, grabbing one of the pillows off the bed and playfully hitting her with it.
    She shrugs. “Don’t get me wrong. I like Jennifer and all, but she really needs to stick to singing. I’d rather put that thirteen dollars, plus another fifteen dollars for snacks and drinks, toward a cute pair of sandals.”
    Jordan gives a dismissive wave.
    â€œWell, what about you, Kennedy? You want to go?”
    â€œHuh? What about me?”
    Jordan repeats the question. I shake my head. “No. I’ll pass.”
    She huffs. “Well, dang. Both of you sure know how to be party duds. I thought it would be kind of fun to see a movie.”
    â€œPlease. I’d rather watch Netflix,” Hope says dismissively, “before going to see a Jennifer Hudson movie. She has an Oscar for Christ’s sake. And this is the best she can do?” She shakes her head. “Tragic. Just real tragic.” She scrolls through her phone. “But what about seeing that movie with Idris Alba? He’s so . . . mmph.”
    â€œEwwww. Old ,” Jordan retorts, twisting her face up. “And that’s so nasty!”
    I laugh. “Well, he’s distinguished.”
    â€œAnd dirt old,” Jordan says again.
    â€œBut he’s still cute for an old guy,” Hope says defensively. “Old guys can be cute, too.”
    Jordan rolls her eyes. “Yuck. Not when they’re old enough to be your father.”
    Hope waves Jordan on, dismissing her comment. “So do y’all want to see the movie or not?”
    I shrug. “I guess.”
    Jordan says, “Okay, I guess. I’m game. Let me text my mother to let her know we’re going to the movies.”
    Not that this is my ideal way of spending a Friday night. I mean, really? It’s real nice out. Now that the sun is down, it’s not as hot and humid out like it was earlier. It’s like eighty degrees out now. And I know the streets in the hood are jumping with excitement. Maybe I’ll be able to convince Jordan to at least roll up all the windows real tight, lock all the doors, and speed through the hood to see who’s out. Yeah, right. Not!
    Â 
    â€œYo, what’s good wit’ ya peeps?” this