It’s time for this week’s Song Title Challenge.
Write a short piece of fiction, around 300 words, using the song title as your story title but don’t listen to the song. You can pick your own genre or use the one suggested to me. Remember to link back to this post so I can find yours.
This week’s song is Rollin’ With My Homies by Coolio and was suggested by anonymusical at They didn’t tell me it’d be like this. Genre: romance once again. Please tell me what you think of it.
Rollin’ With My Homies
Grant cringed before the look in her eyes.
“Chill out, Babe. I’m here now, ain’t I?”
She shifted her weight and crossed her arms. Next came the head-tilt. Grant felt himself grow smaller before her stare, but at the same time reflected how cute she looked when she was angry.
“Where were you?”
“Nowhere, babe. Just out rollin’ with my homies.”
She raised her left eyebrow. Grant felt the flush crawl up his cheeks.
“You know you sound like an idiot when you talk like that?”
“Aww, don’t be like that, Babe. I was just…”
“You was just tryin’ to sound like a homeboy. Newsflash, Grant: you’re too white to pull that shit. Next thing you’re pulling up with spinners on your car and more bling than Mr. T. Why you wanna go get all ghetto on me now? That’s not the guy who swept me off my feet.”
“Sorry, Babe. I didn’t mean to…”
“And stop calling me ‘Babe’. I’m not a little pig suffering from an identity crisis.”
Grant burst out laughing at this. He could see this was not the reaction she was expecting.
“You’re gorgeous when you’re angry, Chareen.”
“And you’re still an idiot.” But she was smiling now. “Where were you?”
Grant returned her smile.
“Can’t tell you. It’s a surprise.”
Chareen pouted at this.
“I don’t like surprises. Tell me.”
“You’ll just have to wait and see.”
Chareen pouted and crossed her arms, but Grant could see she wasn’t really angry anymore. He pulled her closer and kissed her.
“You ready to go?”
“Yeah. I’ll just get my purse.”
“Hurry up. We don’t want to miss our reservation.”
“Don’t you hurry me up, homie. You’re the one who’s late!”
But she was laughing as she said it. Grant smiled at her retreating back, and fingered the little box in his pocket.
Copyright © 2013 Herman Kok