Next Semester Read Online Free Page B

girl walking through the parking lot. She was pecan-complexioned, with dimples, a short, Halle Berry-like hairstyle and the body of a goddess.Her sleek, hourglass figure seemed to glide across the asphalt in her black patent leather heels. Her ass was so big, it looked out of place on her tiny waste, leaving the belt loops on her True Religion denims bunched in the back.
    “Who the hell is that?” I asked Fresh, grabbing him by the arm, my eyes fixated on her body.
    “I don’t know. Wish I did, though. She must go to Elman, because I damn sure ain’t see her around here last semester.”
    “Well, if she goes to Elman, why is she going down the steps by our dorm?”
    “That’s a hell of a question,” Fresh said. “I would chase her down but I’ve got my hands full already. You know I’m single now, so I got chicks lined up for days! Rashida from Detroit. Tiffany from Houston. Sandra from L.A. Man, the list goes on, fam.”
    “Y’all young boys are something else,” my uncle said, his eyes glued to the same treasure as ours. “I need to get outta here before I get into trouble. You got all of your things from the trunk?”
    “I’ma see what ol’ baby is talkin’ about,” I said, speed-walking in her direction.
    “Get her!” Fresh growled.
    There were a lot of pretty girls going in and out of the dorm, but none close to as fine as the one I was chasing. The closer I got, the faster my heart pounded. Normally, I may have just waited until the next time we crossed paths to try to get at her. I’ve never liked the idea of chasing a girl down. Ladies generally assume those kind of guys are too thirsty. But with Uncle Leroy and Fresh watching, I had to at least give it a shot.
    “Excuse me,” I said, reaching out and caressing her elbow.
    “You’re excused,” she said, pulling her arm away, and looking back with an expression of disgust, as if I was aggravating her.
    “You don’t have to be that way, sweetheart,” I said, still trailing her. “I was just trying to find out your name.”
    “My name is Leslie,” she said without looking back, still walking a few paces ahead of me.
    “Well, my name is James,” I said, careful not to drop my nickname on her right away, in case she’d heard any rumors. “What school do you go to?”
    “I thought you just wanted to know my name,” she said, stopping abruptly, then finally turning toward me.
    Her beauty was on a whole ’nother level. Other than lip gloss, it didn’t seem like she was wearing any makeup at all. And still, she looked like she could be walking the red carpet at the Grammys. My eyes scanned for imperfection and found none. That was, until she moved her head slightly to the left. That’s when I noticed a fresh scar just below her bottom lip. Upon further examination, I saw that her mouth was a little puffy on that side, too. I tried not to stare.
    “Actually, I just wanted you to stop so I could properly introduce myself,” I said. “So, thanks. You look great from the back, but you are so much more beautiful from the front. So now that I seem to have your attention, what school do you go to?”
    “What school do you go to?” she asked.
    “University of Atlanta.”
    “I knew it. Gotta go,” she said, turning and walking away.
    “What’s that about?” I asked, flat-footed.
    “I’m done with U of A guys,” she said. “I only date Lighthouse men now.”
    “Who said anything about dating?”
    “Maybe I’ll see you around, James, ” she said, as she turned to wave goodbye. “It was nice meeting you.”
    At least she remembered my name, I thought to myself, as I watched her sashay out of my life. After her little comment about exclusively dating Lighthouse men, itwould be fair to assume that she definitely went to Elman. Since Lighthouse was the all-male school right across the street from Elman, and both were considered black Ivy League institutions, they tended to prefer dating each other over us. I don’t think my