Better Than Okay (32 page)

“We’re
not all intellectually blessed like you,” I shrugged.

Devin
is majoring in business management too and he has at least a 3.0, despite
rarely going to class. Once again, he rolled his eyes. Normally a girl thing to
do, but there isn’t much Devin can do to appear ‘girly.’ He’s so damned
good-looking; everything he does is just sexy and enticing.

“Stop
bullshittin’, Kinkaid,” he was saying. “We need you there. You’re the rhythm of
the band, the pulse of the music, the vibe of the vibration.”

I
couldn’t help but laugh and he grinned. He really didn’t need to make a speech
though. I never miss a rehearsal. We rehearse at our guitarist and sometimes
singer, Travis’, house because he actually has a house with a garage and a
basement. He stays about fifteen minutes from campus in the small, old house
his grandma left him when she passed away a couple of years ago.

“You
gotta help me review then,” I said, daring him to decline. He shrugged.

We
passed by a group of Scantily Clads, as I call them, and Devin jerked his head
to check them out. One of them turned around and grinned at him.

“Hold
up,” he said, turning back toward her before I could respond.

I
waited patiently twisting the mood ring I always wore on my ring finger. Devin
is the most attractive guy in our band, not that Travis or Bam, our keyboardist
are bad looking at all.
 
They’re
both actually really cute. But Devin is stereotypical-sexy. Caramel-complexion,
sexy, bedroom eyes, lips that he licks a lot to draw attention to them and
confidence that practically permeates from him. His hair is un-kept in a little
‘fro, but it works on him, gives him an edge and takes away from his natural,
pretty-boy look.

Even
though he plays the drums, he still gets the most attention, because he’s so
charismatic and good-looking. Well, besides me—a girl bass player with
wild hair and nice legs kind of demands attention too.

I
picked at my chipped blue nail polish while I waited, wondering again if Willow
had remembered to record
A Different
World
. After my fiasco with J, I was in desperate need of a Whitely and
Dwayne Wayne fix.

“They’re
coming to the show,” Devin told me, grinning widely when he came back a couple
of minutes later.

“Thrilling,”
I deadpanned. “I gotta go if I’m gonna get some studying done before rehearsal.”

It
was already almost seven-thirty.

“You’re
a nerd,” he said, falling step beside me as we continued on the way to my dorm.
“So where were you coming from?” he asked. “Obviously not a class.”

I
sighed audibly. “I stopped by Jer… J’s.”

He
shook his head at me like a disappointed father or something.

“What?”
I said, feigning agitation.

“You
don’t even like him,” Devin answered, shooting me a look.

“He’s
alright,” I lied.

“You
don’t even know his name, Jersey.”

“It’s
‘J’,” I said, huffily.

He
shot me another look. We’d reached my dorm building and he pulled open the
front door for me and followed me in.

“You
need to stop kicking it with lames that you don’t even like,” Devin said as we
made our way up the steps to the second floor, where my room was located.

I
sighed heavily, beginning to get irritated.

“Just
drop it, Devin, damn. You’re pissing me off.”

“When
have I ever given a shit about pissing you off?”

He
had a point. It’s one of the reasons our relationship works so well. He doesn’t
sugarcoat anything and neither do
I.

“I’m
just saying,” he pressed.

“No,
I’m just saying,” I interrupted, trudging up the stairs. “I don’t harass you
about the chicks you sleep with that you don’t even like.”

“That’s
because it’s different. My feelings aren’t all involved.”

I
stopped in my tracks, my hand on the freshly painted rail. A couple of girls
passed by us on the stairs and gave Devin the once over as they laughed loudly.
But he wasn’t paying them attention. He was looking at me with an irritable scowl,
although his eyes were concerned.

“You
think my feelings are involved? Come on, Devin. You know me better than that.”

I
shook my head and continued up the steps.

“Your
feelings are involved. You may not have feelings for the lame ass dudes you
mess around with but your emotions are definitely involved. You run off of your
emotions, Jersey. You try to act like you aren’t, but you’re one of the most
sensitive people I know. And messing with these dudes isn’t anything but you
being emotional about other shit and trying to compensate for it with them. I
guarantee you talked to your Pops today, huh?”

I
sighed loudly and rolled my eyes, even though I felt a little flustered and
exposed because he was right, I had talked to Pops. This wasn’t the first time
that Devin had hit me with his psychobabble bullshit, but today it was extra
irritating for some reason.

“Just
drop it,” I breathed. We’d reached the long hall leading to my dorm room.

“What
happened with your mom wasn’t your fault, Jersey,” he said softly, halting
outside of my room.

My
chest started to burn as anger and frustration and whatever else formed there.

“I
said drop it, Devin.”

The
tone of my voice and my severe look must’ve worked because he just shook his
head and closed his mouth. We were right outside my dorm and I didn’t want
Willow overhearing our conversation. She doesn’t know about my mom and although
it isn’t a secret or anything, I want to keep it that way. It’s embarrassing,
and personal and as soon as she finds out, I’m sure she’ll look at me with
pity, which I freaking hate.

I
pushed open the door to my dorm room and was greeted by the intense scent of
strawberries and vanilla, which meant that Willow and her body spray of the
month were there.

“Hey,
Jersey!” she sang brightly.

Willow
is, by far, the happiest individual that I have ever met. She was sitting
cross-legged on her bed, with a book open next to her laptop, which had a huge
Hello Kitty sticker covering the back of it. Her bright yellow comforter was
dotted with lime green flowers and actually matched the yellow sundress she had
on. Her jet-black hair was braided to the side and hanging over one shoulder.
She kind of looked like she could’ve been Tia and Tamera’s third twin or
something.

“Did
you remember to record
A Different World
?”
I asked
,
entering the room and throwing my bag on the
pitifully small desk that was shoved in the cramped corner of the room.

“Sheesh,
Jersey, ‘hi’ to you too,” she laughed, easily. “It’s recording now.”

 
She glanced at Devin and looked away
quickly. Normally, I find such happy people to be irritating, mostly because
it’s fake and they’re usually trying to hide something by being extra bubbly.
But Willow doesn’t bother me. She’s actually genuine and sweet and even though
I have absolutely no motherly-instincts in my bones and we’re both nineteen, I
feel the need to protect her. Which is why it’s so troubling that she clearly
has a thing for Devin’s whorish ass.

“What’s
up Willow,” Devin greeted her, plopping down onto my bed, shoes and all.

“Hi
Devin,” she said a little shyly.

“Devin,
get your crusty-ass feet off of my bed,” I snapped, scowling.

“Fuck
yo’ bed, Jersey!” he said, wildly stamping his feet all over my dark red and
purple comforter in a terrible impersonation of the Rick James skit on
The Chappelle Show
. I slapped his legs
off, not finding him to be funny in the least.

Willow
giggled and he flashed his dimples at her. She blushed and dropped her gaze to
her laptop. I swear Willow is like an actual ABC Family character. She’s never
had a boyfriend and as far as I know, has only gotten to “third base.” She
literally said “third base” when she was telling me one night after I convinced
her to drink some shooters with me.

“You
want to come hang out with us at rehearsal tonight?” he was asking her,
studying her in the intense way that made women’s insides melt.

He
was deliberately messing with her and I shot him a warning look, which he
ignored. I’ve told him on more than one occasion that Willow was off limits.
She’s too sweet and innocent to have her heart broken by Devin. And since Devin
is my best friend and she’s my roommate, I really don’t want to have to deal
with her heartbreak when he inevitably loses interest. Honestly, I'm protecting
my own selfish interests by keeping them apart.

She
shook her head, her cheeks red. She’s so fair-skinned most people assumed that
she’s mixed, although both her parents are black. I know because she has a
framed photo of them on the nightstand that separates our twin-sized beds. They
look happy and carefree, and nothing like any of the people I know back home.

“I
would come… I want to come…” she stammered.

 
I watched Devin’s expression and knew his
perverted ass was thinking about her very non-deliberate sexual innuendo.
Willow was oblivious. “But I have a paper to write for Psych,” she finished.

He
shrugged easily, grinning again. “No worries, maybe next time. But you
definitely have to come to our show Saturday, okay?”

Her
face lit up and she nodded her head enthusiastically. “I love watching you guys
play. Jersey is so talented.”

I
shook my head.

“Really,
Jersey. I think it’s so cool that you play the bass guitar,” she told me for
what had to be the millionth time.

I
waved off her compliment and reached for my laptop, which was buried somewhere
under my comforter.

“We
only have thirty minutes to cram now,” I told Devin, pulling up my notes before
passing the laptop to him.

He
sighed exaggeratedly as he took it from me. We spent the next twenty-minutes
studying before I hopped in the shower to wash J’s sweat off of me.

Much
as I hate to admit it, Devin is right. I really have to stop sleeping with
these lame-o’s.