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He could have been my perfect match.
I don't remember how we started talking again, I just know we did, although it may have been that time he jumped at me from his car.
We met when I started high school and he was two years older. To me, he was a creep, a friend of a friend that I only associated with because he was kind of funny. To him, I was that little asian girl, with the boobs. He was cocky then. If he knew what he wanted, he would do what it took to get his way, either through whining or illegal measures. Usually whining. We weren't close.
When we started talking on the phone, it was like I just met him for the first time. We would talk for hours and hours, until the next day. Each morning he would apologize over and over because I had school, regardless of the times I said "It's okay, really! I'm not even tired!"
Every now and then his step-dad would come home late from work. "Hey Tammy, I'm gonna put you in my pocket for a bit," was what he would say before I could hear a mumbled exchange of greetings followed by an outburst of yelling, along with a female voice- his mom probably. Minutes would pass and I would hear him storming up the stairs. "Sorry, about that," he would say as he closes the door to his room, breathing heavily.
He was also superstitious, telling me all kinds of stories about ghosts and his past experiences that honestly had me thinking at one point that he was part demon. Too scared to fall asleep during 3am, I would stay on the phone with him until the hour was up.
He cried sometimes. He cried about his dad, his step-dad, his street, his jobs, me. Not often, but when he did it was an accumulation of problems being let out at once. One time I cried with him, when I told him I didn't want us being together.
He always said, "Sweet dreams, ice cream." Not because I reminded him of ice cream, just because he thought it rhymed. He would re-tell his dreams and make up stories for me to fall asleep and he would tell me about the people he meets, because that guy basically talks to anyone smoking a blunt.
One day I told him I could read him like a poster. Not just a book, a poster, where you don't need to read much to understand the basics of what's going on. He asked me what he was thinking, if that was the case. "You think I'm adorable." He cussed and i could picture the smile planted on his face.
We decided- I guess it was me- I decided it was best we don't progress. We came from different families, different parents with different expectations. We had different lifestyles: i was a student and he was a worker with a drug problem who's been involved in.. certain activities. He's been stabbed, threatened and almost arrested? I'm pretty sure he's killed a guy, out of pure defense, though.
Regardless of how much we liked each other, he couldn't let go of his life. He was born into a family of drug-dealers and gang-members. Danger was in his blood. Even though I was crazy for this guy, I couldn't see myself spending my life with him.
I wanted a bad guy, minus the bad guy.
I guess that makes me a bad girl, in a way.
