Frost on My Window

Frost on My Window by Angela Weaver Page B

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Authors: Angela Weaver
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request. The whole situation seemed unreal.
    “You know what? I’m going to be honest with you. How about that?” I looked her in the eye. “You and I will never be friends. Since you’re so holier than thou tonight, how about a new phrase: ‘God don’t like ugly.’ You might have had to haze us a little while we were on line. That I understand. But cutting off a girl’s hair, making us walk into Center City on the coldest day in winter and then sitting here still not willing to say you’re sorry? Sherrie, I really don’t need or want friends like you.” I stood up. I’d had about enough.
    “I should have known that you weren’t woman enough to know when you’re beat.”
    “Excuse me? What did you say?” My voice rose.
    “Face it, girlfriend. Lance won’t ever look at you.” She pointedly made a show of looking me up and down and then tossing her hair. “This following him around like a lost puppy is really pathetic. You need to find someone else.” She paused and laughed. Her laughter grated like a fingernails on a chalkboard.
    She continued, “No one wants a stuck-up, tight-lipped, white girl wannabe like you.”
    I moved before I could think. My hand lashed out, striking her face. I wanted to scream as I stood trying to keep still when every nerve in my body wanted to beat her senseless. It took me a moment to realize I was shaking.
    “You’ll regret that,” she threatened as she rubbed her cheek. Even under the glow of the halogen lamp, I could see the faint hint of redness in her skin. I couldn’t tell if it was from my slap or her anger.
    “No, I won’t.” I reached down to pick up my book bag.
    “When Lance hears about this, he’s going drop you like a bad habit,” she screeched.
    “And who’s going to tell him?” I shot back.
    Sherrie’s smirk abruptly disappeared. In that moment, something alien welled up within me. Something dark and heavy under my skin. It lay there coiled and waiting. It felt as if I were bleeding and it hurt. I walked across the room and jerked open the door. I took two more steps before turning around to face her again.
    “If you come against me, I promise that I won’t stop until I’ve pulled down this house of cards that you’ve built.”
    As I stomped down the steps and walked through the streets towards my dorm, I heard her words echoing in my mind, You’ll regret this!
    In the end, she was right. I regretted not stomping her like a bug.

Chapter 6
    “Come on in. I’m almost ready.”
    I waved Traxx through the door and hurried to my room. Part of me wanted to stand there with my mouth wide open like a star-stuck, hormone-crazed adolescent. The other part knew that Traxx was just a man with eyes the color of maple syrup on a Saturday morning. He was a tall, beautiful brother with a golden voice. I leaned against my dresser and drew an unsteady breath.
    Just a man, I reminded myself. A gorgeous man that had me raiding Rena’s closet for the low-cut black Armani dress I had on.
    Just another highly paid multi-talented black man, I repeated to myself while putting on a dab of lipstick. He deals with the same daily drama just like everybody else and wipes his butt with two-ply toilet paper. He was the epitome of handsome. Traxx’s midnight locks had given women across America a new reason to dream. When you saw him smile on video, your finger just itched to hit the pause button.
    I came back to find Traxx looking at pictures on the mantle. As I took the chance to observe him, he was staring at one in particular. His hand reached out towards the picture of Rena sitting on the beach reading a book. His fingers seemed to caress her cheek through the glass. The man had it bad. I sighed and took a step forward. Another one bites the dust.
    “Ready to go?” I asked cheerfully.
    “That was quick.” He turned, surprised.
    Closing and locking the door, I caught myself wondering what woman in her right mind had ever kept this man waiting. We settled into

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