Read Online Boyfriend Season by Kelli London - Free Book Online Page A

girl. That’s the verdict. Huh, lil momma?”
    Patience nodded, then shrugged. She realized he’d barely moved forward to touch her. He had to be tall. “I guess.”
    â€œWhat’s the last movie you went to?” His stare made her wiggle. No one had ever made her feel so uncomfortable before, not like this, and it was baffling her. The feelings he’d caused her moved through her like waves. Good ones that tickled and excited her all at once, and she wanted to laugh out loud but didn’t want to make herself look like a kid.
    She shook her head.
    â€œLast video game you played or bought?” the boy on the other side of him asked.
    She rotated her head no again.
    â€œLast concert?” Silky quizzed with a knowing look and smile that said she’d already told them all of Patience’s lack of worldly culture.
    Patience cut her eyes. Silky knew the answer.
    â€œYou know.”
    Silky shook her head, then sang, “I’ve been gone two months.... Anything could’ve changed.”
    â€œGospel Fest,” Patience whispered, feeling like a fool on display.
    â€œFavorite TV show . . .”
    Patience held up her hand, signaling she was done being interrogated. “I don’t go to movies, play video games, watch cable TV, or go to real concerts. I don’t do anything. Okay?” she snapped, embarrassed.
    Pretty Boy smiled. “No need to be mad, lil momma. I think it’s wonderful. We’re celebrating you, not making fun of you. ’Least I’m not. . . .”
    She looked over at him, then blinked away quickly. He was so fine she couldn’t connect her eyes with his because she was sure her feelings were obvious. Bishop Blackman’s warning bounced through her head. Boys aren’t any good. Any! All they want is one thing. One! They take the milk and leave the cow, and they don’t even feed it first. Don’t feed it. Don’t love it. Don’t care if it cries.
    The SUV jerked to a stop. “Sorry, sir,” the driver’s voice came through the speakers, bringing Patience’s attention to another thing she’d missed. The SUV had a black glass partition between the front and the back, which someone had rolled down a couple of inches.
    She sat for a second watching all the guys except Pretty Boy collect bottles of alcohol, cell phones, iPods, and bags of fast food and doughnuts. Silky’s growler hopped out of the SUV first, followed by Silky and the boy who sat next to Patience. The guy who sat on the other side of Pretty Boy climbed out of the other door, then offered her his hand to help her out of the vehicle.
    â€œGo ’head, lil momma. My homeboy Big Dude don’t bite—he just look like he do.”
    It was then that Patience realized she’d been staring at the guy’s hand like he had leprosy. “Sorry and thank you,” she said, climbing out with his assistance, then staring at him. Big Dude, if that was in fact his name, was big. Statue of Liberty huge.
    He smiled and reminded her of an overstuffed, giantsized teddy bear like the one she’d won at Six Flags. He nodded. “Yuh, they call me Big Dude. And no, thank you.” He turned his attention to Pretty Boy. “ ’Bout time we got somebody ’round here with manners.”
    â€œDat’s what I’m talum’bout,” Pretty Boy said, emerging from the vehicle, speaking another language and standing about six feet tall.
    â€œHuh?” Patience accidentally wrinkled her nose, trying to figure out what language he was speaking.
    â€œAh, partna, shawty ain’t skreet. Godda clean ’tup,” Big Dude said to Pretty Boy, slamming the door shut behind him and shadowing him like a redwood tree.
    â€œPatience, he said that’s what he’s talking about, and Big Dude said you’re not from the streets, that he should talk proper so you understand, that he should clean up his words,”