Not A Part Of The Plan

One of the best the world's ever seen; Bob Marley. Big up yuh self ✌🙏

**~**

When I get home, I rush to my room to begin working on my paper. Without any stops or breaks, I was on my sixth page in five hours, when I decided to switch to math.

No, I don't necessarily need to be working on this on a Friday night but it's become a habit of mine over the years so I can enjoy the rest of my weekend however I want to. It used to piss my friends off immensely but they got used to it. Now they encourage me to get as much done as I can. Especially after they found out I've been in honors classes since freshman year.

I hate waiting until the last minute and they know that. I like getting my work done, as soon as possible. It makes me feel good and relaxed knowing I'm done with it and have nothing to worry about in the near future.

It's almost ten when I'm finishing up my math homework. The other thing on my list of assignments is the three to five-page paper I have to write for History. I plan to start that early tomorrow for a couple of hours and then finish up my English.

It's a year of endless work. It's a good thing I only have four classes this year. With three study seems the only problem here is that I didn't start all these assignments sooner. My friends envy me because they don't have any. It takes a lot for those counselors to hand out one study seminar let alone three.

"So you really didn't ask him?" Kimberly called around when I started math and it's been about an hour since.

A minute ago she asked me if I'd asked Arthur about the brunette he was mingling with today. I said no, and she resumed to ask the question several times to make sure she was hearing me right. Even if I wanted to ask, I wouldn't. It's none of my business who he fornicates with. But if he's fornicating with me... that does make it my business, doesn't it?

I look over at the phone next to me lazily. "I'm not as forward about stuff like that, you know this. Besides, I didn't even remember." I turn my attention back to my books, happy that she can't see my expression. "And aren't you supposed to be getting ready for a party?" I try changing the subject.

I can practically see her rolling her eyes. "Grace, you know I don't go to parties early. Have to show up when it's lit, baby. When it's lit." Then I can imagine her fist pumping in slow motion.

I smile, knowing how true that is from experience. She always shows up at parties at least by eleven o'clock when the disco lights are on and the house is almost jumping off the ground.

It's like heaven," she would say each time.

"You should start your History paper," I suggest, since we both have the same History class along with Amelia and Richard. I don't know what possessed me to even say that though, it just jumped out.

I can almost feel her blank stare through the phone when she says, "That's not due 'til the next two weeks."

"I'm just saying-" I start but she cuts me off.

"I get that it's the school year, but I don't want you to overwork yourself again," she says softly. I blink at the drastic change in topic.

But it's not like she's lying; I have overworked myself in the past, to get my mind off some things. I've worked my way into stress, high blood pressure, then finally into the hospital for a little bit. As I said before, it was a dark time in my life and I was trying desperately to ignore certain things by all means necessary. Working did the job for a while. I've been trying to forget it because it was embarrassing. Still, it hadn't been intentional either.

I let out a long sigh, dropping my pencil onto my textbook. "I won't. It makes me feel better knowing that I have everything done."

"Have you taken a break since you started?" It isn't a demanding question but the knowing accusation in her tone is loud and clear. She deduces the right answer when I don't respond. "Take a break."

"I don't need-"

"How far are you on that English paper?"

"How did you-"

"How far?" she pushes.

I let out a defeated sigh. "Almost seven pages."

"Grace!" she exclaims, heated. She would smack me if she was actually here.

"I know! But I'm not finishing it until tomorrow!" I respond defensively. "I'm fishing up the math and then-"

"No. Get up and- have you even eaten?"

I grimace. "Well..."

"Really?"

"Sorry," I mutter, making a face at the phone I'm happy she can't see. I stare at my half-finished equation with a pout.

She lets out a huff. "I'll see you on Monday." She hangs up without another word.

Yeah, she's pissed. I groan loudly at the soreness in my neck as I roll onto my back in the middle of my bed, closing my eyes.

I know it's not healthy for me to be working so excessively, and since my time in the hospital, she's been protective of me. What she doesn't get is that I know how to take care of myself and I won't let it get as bad as I did last year.

"You've been sitting there for a long time."

At the sound of Arthur's voice, I jerk in surprise, sitting up abruptly. I whine when a loud cracking sound from my spine echoes in the room. "What's your problem?" I cry while trying to stretch my sore limbs.

"You okay?"

I turn to glare at him from where he's standing on his balcony, staring at me. Who knows how long he's been standing there. And whether he could hear what Kim said on the phone...

I sigh and get up from my bed for the first time in hours. I've shifted into different spots and positions but haven't actually gotten up. I'm so sore that I have to wait a couple of seconds to straighten my back, groaning when another 'pop' sounds through the room. I'm sure he hears that one.

I make my way over, stepping onto my balcony and leaning against the railing. "How long have you been here?"

He shrugs. "I'm not a stalker or anything- just noticed that you haven't moved in a few hours." He glances over his shoulder, then points his thumb into his room. "From in there."

I prop my elbows up on the railing, resting my chin in my hands. "It's a tragic flaw I've picked up; overworking sometimes."

"Why?" He asks confused.

I let out a subtle sigh. "You really don't wanna know," I say casually in hopes that he'll drop it.

He doesn't say anything, making me look up at him. I see he's deep in thought as he stares into the dark night. I notice he's wearing a dark long-sleeved shirt that's pushed up to his elbows, a pair of black joggers, and only white socks on his feet.

He looks so fresh and relaxed while I'm seconds from... I don't even know. I'm still stuck in the clothes I'd changed into when I came home, I haven't showered yet and still have my makeup on. I feel icky and I despise it. But I don't want to get too comfortable unless I'm going straight to bed. Maybe it's time I do that. I feel myself giving over to the thought.

"What do you say we go get pizza?" he offers suddenly.

I blink out of my thoughts to focus on him. "Dating isn't really a part of the plan..." I trail off, averting my eyes and biting my lip. Just say yes. Stop making everything so difficult.

"It doesn't have to be a date. We're just getting pizza." He smiles and his words make me realize no one said anything about it being a date. He's right.

We haven't had a real conversation in a while. I miss him. Maybe I should... To get some things cleared up. Maybe we can be friends.

Nah. We could never be friends, and that's a solid fact. Today was a huge indicator of that.

"I need a shower and all this..." I gesture down to my attire. "Do you mind?" I ask nervously.

A large grin takes over his face and he looks as if he's going to break out dancing. "No, no, I can wait." He says softly despite his giddy expression. "I'll order?"

Eyeing him, I'm unable to hide my own smile. "Okay." I head back inside, going to the closet to grab some clothes. But once I'm out of sight, I hear it.

"Yes!"

I let out a small squeak, startled at the sudden shout. I place a hand over my heart and let out a breathy laugh. "Oh, God," I whisper to myself, my face heating up. I snicker, turning back to shake my head at the open balcony door. We can't see each other, but I'm sure he knows I heard that. "You're sick Kingsley," I whisper, a smile on my lips

A minute after I walk out of the bathroom and toward my vanity there's a knock at the door. Only for a second, because in the next, my mom is rushing in, closing the door behind her.

"You didn't tell me you were going on a date with Arthur!" she basically gushes, her hands clasped in front of her. She's seconds away from bouncing on the balls of her feet and I have a feeling she would've if they weren't swollen from her being pregnant.

I press my lips together and say nothing for a moment. "It's not a date and I was going to ask if I could go with-"

"Yes, yes! Go ahead and have fun. Where are you going?" I can't tell the last time she was this excited.

"Just going to get pizza. Not sure if anywhere's open for that now though." I'm guessing it's about twenty minutes past ten, but I'm sure we can find places to eat, even if it's not what we agreed to before.

I adjust my thin floral pants and black tube top as I check myself out in the vanity mirror. My hair is a fizzy thick mess, so I decide to put it up in a bun. I don't have time to perfect it, so it's puffing out in places, making me groan.

"I don't care! It's been a year since you've dated!" my mom says, but I'm busy having a crisis.

I end up taking my hair down instead, spraying it, then running my fingers through with some curling cream. I rush to go wash my hands. Then put jewelry on when I go back to the vanity. I spray some perfume and head to my closet to get a pair of flat sandals.

Her words hit me when I'm inside and slipping into some black ones. "It's not a date, Mom!"

"Not to you!" she calls back.

Whatever, mother.

I exit with a small purse, the strap on my shoulder, and a cropped jacket on my arm. I snatch my chapstick, gloss, and transferred the necessary stuff from my regular purse to this one. I walk over to my bed, impatiently searching under my scattered books for my phone.

I lift my head, smiling when I notice my mom holding it out to me, "Thanks."

"Eager?" she teases.

"He's been waiting for me. It's probably been like an hour or something," I explain. I really despise keeping people waiting, while on the other hand, I don't mind waiting for them when they're running late.

"Grace, it's barely been half an hour." She sounds like she's loving this too much.

I glance at her and she's spawned a mini Snickers bar out of nowhere, munching on it.

"Oh. Huh. Well in that case..." I try to come up with a comeback. "You eat chocolate like a caveman." She gives me a look that says 'Really? That doesn't even make sense'. I shrug, going back to gathering my things. "Wait," I squint at nothing, turning back to her slowly, "how do you know about us going out?"

She says around her chewing, "He's downstairs."

My jaw drops. "What! Why didn't you tell me?"

"He wanted you to take your time," she defends.

I rush to the door, yank it open, and almost sprint down the stairs. I stop around the corner to the living room, adjusting my clothes, my hair, and take a deep breath before turning the corner and entering the living room.

Arthur and my dad are sitting on the couch playing video games. At least Arthur is. While Arthur's comfortably on the couch with the controller in his hands, my dad is standing in the middle of the floor in front of the TV, cursing at his car that isn't in first place. On one side of the screen, a car crosses the finish line and Arthur drops his controller onto the couch, watching in amusement as my father yells in defeat.

He turns toward the teenager on the couch. "Get out of my house."

I stifle a laugh behind my hand, but a giggle escapes me, loud enough for them to hear and glance in my direction. Arthur stands up, blinking as he takes me in.

"Good thing you came, babe," Dad says to me, "I don't think he could take anymore." He then lets out a laugh, tossing his controller on the loveseat. "Sore loser."

My mom coughs uncontrollably, shady as ever and knowing who the sore loser really is.

I nod, going along with it. "Mhmm. Definitely." We lie in this family sometimes.

I turn to Arthur when he starts making his way toward me. "Hi." I smile at him.

He's changed too since I last saw him; wearing dark jeans and a graphic T. So simple yet unbearably attractive. My eyes follow the tattoos along his arm and I have to remember my parents are in the room.

"Hey," he says warmly, stopping in front of me. "You look amazing."

I bite the corner of my lip, hating how much I'm smiling. "Thanks," I mutter. "You too."

"Y'all are irritating." And my dad does sound irritated. I glance at him over Arthur's shoulder, seeing his eyes go back and forth between us with a weird expression on his face.

I turn to my mom with a raised eyebrow but she just beams at us.

"Oh, don't worry! I like it."

"Ugh, okay." I turn back to Arthur with an overbearing smile. "Ready to go?"

He chuckles. "Yeah."

"You better not come back here at what-the-fuck-o'clock, lil girl!" my dad calls after us.

"Be safe!"

I focus on Mom's words instead, and only acknowledge her with a wave as we head out.