Chapter One: Ain’t Nobody’s Princess
881 Words
I wasn’t the type of girl that turned heads when I walked in a room. At least, that’s what I told myself.
People liked to act like I was invisible unless they needed answers for homework, or someone to crack jokes on. Thick girls like me? We were either the funny friend or the one they kept secret.
And I was tired of playing both.
"Lyric, hurry up before the food gets cold!" Mama yelled from the kitchen.
I rolled my eyes, not answering as I pulled the oversized hoodie over my head, then looked at myself in the mirror. My curls were wild, stretched out in a half-done bun, and I had yesterday’s lashes barely hanging on.
I didn’t care though. School wasn’t about being cute—it was about survival.
I stepped into my beat-up sneakers, grabbed my phone, and slid it in my bra. That was the only safe spot in this damn house. Not like anybody was gonna touch me, but I didn’t put nothing past nobody anymore. Not since Mama let her new boyfriend move in.
His eyes lingered too long sometimes. I noticed that.
"Lyric!"
"I'm coming, damn!" I snapped, storming out the room and into the kitchen.
Mama gave me the side-eye. “Watch your mouth.”
I didn’t say anything. Just grabbed the cold-ass eggs and toast, took a bite, and chewed like it tasted like something.
"Jamal’s taking you to school."
My stomach dropped.
I looked up. “Since when?”
“He said he ain’t mind.”
I minded. I minded a lot.
“I’ll walk.”
“Lyric—”
“I said I’ll walk,” I mumbled, already heading for the door. I didn’t wait for her to argue. If Jamal was driving me, I was walking the whole damn way barefoot.
The streets were still damp from the morning drizzle. I had my hoodie on, head down, headphones in, pretending like music could block out real life. My playlist was full of slow, sad songs. I liked stuff that made me feel something—even if it hurt.
As I turned the corner near Lincoln and 21st, I saw them.
His car.
That all-black Benz with the tinted windows, the matte paint, the custom plate that just said ZAY.
He was parked like he owned the whole block. And maybe he did.
Everyone knew Zay. Even if you ain’t never met him, you heard of him. That man was grown, fine as hell, and dangerous. The kind of man girls warned their homegirls about—while secretly fantasizing about him at night.
I heard he was 28. I was 18.
Old enough, but not old enough to be messing with someone like him.
He was sitting in the driver’s seat, one hand on the wheel, other on his lap, iced out watch peeking from his sleeve. His face was calm, unreadable—like he was used to people fearing him.
But then… he looked at me.
Straight at me.
Through them dark tints like they was glass.
I stopped walking for half a second. My heart thudded in my chest. Maybe I was tripping.
I turned my head, pretending to check my phone, then glanced back.
He was still watching.
And smirking.
I blinked.
And then he was gone. Pulled off smooth like he had all the time in the world but nothing to prove.
I exhaled, my legs finally moving again.
What the hell was that?
By the time I got to school, I was still lowkey shook. I didn’t know if I was nervous, flattered, or just dumb. That man probably wasn’t even looking at me like that. I ain’t look like the type he’d go for.
Girls like me didn’t get no attention unless it was a joke.
But the way he stared… it felt different.
"Lyric!" a voice called behind me as I stepped into the hallway.
It was Janiyah, my best friend since third grade. Tall, pretty, lacefront always laid and edges always talking.
"b***h, why you walking like you seen a ghost?"
“I think I did.”
She laughed. “Girl, what happened?”
I hesitated, then told her about the car, about Zay.
“Zay Zay?!” Her eyes went wide. “Girl, he looked at you?!”
“Don’t start.”
“I’m not starting, I’m just—he fine, Lyric. He real fine. You sure it was him?”
“I know what I saw.”
She whistled low. “Well damn. Maybe he like ‘em thick.”
I rolled my eyes. “He probably wasn’t even looking at me like that.”
“I’m just saying… Zay don’t look at nobody. He got all them girls chasing him, but he don’t chase back.”
“Well, he ain’t gotta worry. I ain’t chasing nobody.”
But I was lying.
To her.
To myself.
Because that night, when I lay in bed and the house got quiet, I thought about him again.
About his gray eyes.
About the way he smirked like he knew every little secret about me.
About how my heart skipped when he looked right at me, like I mattered.
And for the first time in a long time…
I wanted to be seen.
- Writer
