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Him & Her

A Hood Love Story

 Nae The Pen

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[Him] She had the most innocent face I had ever seen. This girl was uniquely beautiful and I couldn't help but to stare at her. I was on the 61 transit bus on my way to visit my cousin that lived on the eastside of Long Beach. I was a norf side nigga; I hadn't seen this girl before, so I figured she wasn't from this side of the beach . She had big brown eyes with long eye lashes; but you could tell that they were real, unlike the fake shit females were wearing. She was super thick and I admired her curves as she stood there on the bus waiting for her stop. Her hair was in a messy bun but it looked good. Her head was kinda big, but still cute and reminded me of Gina, Martins' girlfriend from the show. Her skin was a nice chocolate brown and looked so soft, however, her lips were what attracted me the most. They were glossed and juicy, and when she caught me staring at her she smiled shyly but looked away so fast that I could tell she was uncomfortable.


[Her] As I stood there on the hot stuffy bus anticipating my stop, I couldn't help but wonder why this nigga was staring at me. I mean, don't get me wrong, he was fine. His skin was a little lighter than mine; more like a peanut butter shade of brown. He looked close to six feet 185 pounds, but I couldn't really tell because he was sitting down... But his eyes. I felt like I could get lost in them. They were a deep brown color and his hair was cut like Nas in the movie Belly with a part on the left side. He looked mean but that's what had me so intrigued. However, what I couldn't understand was why a dude as fine as he was would be looking at me. I wasn't the ugliest thing around but I definitely wasn't the prettiest either. I was chubby, with big bug eyes and fat lips. No one was ever really interested in me; and if they ever were, they weren't upfront with it. Because of that, I quickly shook the thought of him possibly being interested in me as I tugged on the cord for the bus to let me off at the next stop: market st.



 
 
 

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