21 | Grits Ain't Groceries

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     Chapter 21 | Grits Ain't Groceries

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        I jump out of my sleep, hand going to my stomach. A cramp clenches my insides and sharp pain ripples down my back. I shift my laptop along with a pile of homework to the left and swing my legs over the side of the bed.

        Through squinted eyes, my gaze locks in on the stuffed lion still sitting on my nightstand. The morning sun creeping in through the blinds lands on the tangled mane in slants. Overlooking my room like a guard dog, the plush toy has been in that same spot since I set it there; its beady eyes stare straight ahead, dodging me just as hard as I've been dodging Sheila since I saw her last month.

        She hit me up a few days after the visit, wedging her foot in a door wired to keep her locked out. Each call and text screaming how desperate she is for me to spend more time with them. Always telling me about their plans or calling to check-in right when they're heading out the door.

        I reach for the drawer to check for a couple of stray pain pills, slamming it shut seconds later when I come up empty. Another cramp tears through my midsection and I fist the hem of my t-shirt.

        "Shit," I hiss. As I focus on breathing through it, my phone vibrates under my pillow.

        Sliding it out, Vino's name flickers across the screen. Last week he set his contact photo as a picture of him pouting his mouth into a kissy face. I roll my eyes and answer.

        "Hey," I greet feebly.

        His background echoes is a mix of grunts and shouts, a high tempo song thumping somewhere in the distance.

        "Hey," he shouts into the phone. "Can you hear me?"

        "Barely."

        "Bet. Gimme a second."

        Following some shuffling, the background noise is sucked into a vacuum and replaced with silence.

        "That better?"

        "Mhmm," I say, scrunching my nose against another cramp. "What's up?"

        "Just calling to see what time you go in today so I know when to come scoop you."

        "I'm supposed to work from eleven to seven, but the way I'm feeling right now, I might have to call out," I mumble.

        The first day of my cycle is always the worst. I usually spend it in bed flipping from one position to the next until I find one where the cramps don't make me feel like I'm one away from a damn casket.

        "You okay?" he asks, worry seeping in his voice. "I could cover your shift for you."

        My lips twitch up into a weak smile.

        "Nah, it's cool. This week is pay week and I need the money so I'll just have to suck it up like I always do. Thanks, though."

        "It's that time of the month, huh? Got a lil red sea going on down there?" he asks.

        "Yeah, nigga. It's a vampire's wet dream, and what about it?"

        "I always did like them Twilight movies," he says slowly. "Even watched True Blood for a minute when it first came out."

        "See, that's what we not about to do. Just pick me up before eleven, ole nasty ass."

        He chuckles huskily. "Yes, ma'am."

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