Greener Pastures - A Sensual Interracial BWWM Romance Short Story from Steam Books (2 page)

The pitter-patter of the raindrops falling on her umbrella was the dominant sound as Trina walked alongside the driveway, the curves and the round headlights of her car cruelly mocking her as she walked by.

For all of Gramma’s talk of walking to the bus not being any different than how Trina was getting around in Chicago, Trina noticed a pretty immediate difference during her trek.  Chicago had sidewalks, for one.  Here, Trina was either walking on the edge of the road itself or she was walking stretches of gravel alongside the sides of the road.

Trina was used to the streets of city life, but out here she was either walking through a neighborhood, which were mostly occupied by old white people that seemed friendly on the surface, but if they were anything like Gramma who knew what they were really like behind closed doors; or just walking alongside expanses of grass and trees between commercial zones.  The trees were pretty when the sun was out, but they were gloomy and ominous at night or during cloudy and rainy days like this one.  They looked like a damn flock of bats could just fly out and bite her or some shit.  Is that what you called a group of bats, a flock?

Some trucks drove by, the cruel sight of which made even worse by the fact that Trina had to step out into the not-very-kept grass in order to avoid any splash back from their tires.

Lord, she would trade this in for the streets of Chicago any day.

When she finally made it to the bus stop, she was relieved to see a group of people her age there, though it made her a little self-conscious that it seemed she was the only one who actually walked there on her own two feet: it looked like the others had either gotten rides or driven themselves and just parked their car at the lot next to the bus stop.

Trina finally got to collapse her umbrella when she got to the overhanging shelter, and she tapped it on the ground to shake off some of the excess rain water that had collected on the material.  She looked around: it was mostly white kids who were mostly trying not to look at her, a black guy with his hood up who was already eyeing her—
seriously?
—and there was a thick black girl who had sunglasses on even though it wasn’t bright at all outside and was glued to her phone, gossiping to some other girl named Bernice, which Trina surmised since the girl began every sentence with “Bernice this” and “Bernice that”.

The campus bus finally came, and everyone got on.  After the long venture, Trina wasn’t in the mood right then to sit next to strangers, so she sat close to the back.  When the bus started moving, she opened her bag and pulled out the map of the campus to make sure she knew where her stop was.

There were a couple of stops, and some people got off while others got on, and at one point the bus was getting a little on the full side.  A girl—a black girl with braids and hoop earrings—stepped down the aisle and had to take a seat next to Trina due to the capacity.

“Typical!” she hollered with mock outrage. “Typical!  Black girls at the back of the bus, ain’t nothin’ changed.”

The girl’s comments got a few laughs from the other passengers as well as some eye rolls, and amused with herself, the girl sat down and looked right at Trina.

“This your first day, too?” she asked.

The girl’s presence was so warm that it was already cracking through Trina’s mood.  “Yeah, it is,” Trina answered.  “The rain is a good omen, I think.”

The girl laughed, “You must be knew to this place altogether, I think.  It rains like this every other day.”

“I’ve already noticed,” Trina told her, dragging out the first syllable of ‘already’ to express her exasperation.  “It wouldn’t be so bad if I didn’t have to walk all the way through this from my Gramma’s house.”

“Hold up,” the girl said. “You walked to the bus?”

“Yeah,” Trina answered. “It’s awful ‘cause I have a car but I only have a learner’s permit so I can’t drive it yet.”

“No way.  You know what, I don’t have my license yet, either, but I get my boyfriend to drop me off at the bus stop at least.  I tell you what, how about we just pick you up in the mornings if the schedule works out.  Once we get a better idea where all the classes are he can probably drop us off at the building without us taking the bus at all.”

Trina’s eyes widened.  “He’d do that for us?”

“Sure!” The girl said it like it wasn’t nothing.

“Girl, you don’t even know my name!”

The girl laughed, “Well, I’m Veronica, so you know my name now.  What’s yours?”

“Trina.”

~ ~ ~

That was another major thing that was different about Kentucky than what Trina was used to, one that she noticed right off the bat that first week of school: so many people were overly friendly to the point where it got a little crazy.  Trina never in a million years would have accepted rides from what was essentially a complete stranger back home, but things were different here.  Veronica was just so boisterous and warm that Trina couldn’t help but just go with her flow, and since Trina was desperate to cut down on the long treks she had to make to and from school, she accepted her offer to get rides whenever she could.

That southern hospitality was a real thing, Trina discovered, even if Veronica insisted Kentucky wasn’t technically the south—whatever, it was all country to Trina.  Everyone was nice: the teachers were nice, the students were nice, the white folks were nice, the black folks were nice, and everybody was just a lot more chill than they were in the big city.  Sometimes the town just seemed like a big ol’ warm muggy green fuzzball of niceness.  People talked funny, but she liked that the accent made it seem to her ears that the black folks and white folks talked more alike than they did different.

But just like Gramma, there were moments when the warm exterior betrayed a not-so-pretty side of the town.  Thankfully she hadn’t experienced any overt racism, but Trina noticed everyone was a bit set in their ways and seemed to frown on anything a little too out-there or weird.  The white people and black people were friendly to each other when they had to work together, but they hardly ever seemed to be friends with each other.  There was a real self-made separate-but-equal thing going on, even more than what you found in the city.

Which was a shame, since it made Trina uncomfortable to approach one white boy in particular.

His name was Scott.  

She thought he might go by Scotty, but she wasn’t sure.  He was in her English 105 class.  He had that ‘aw shucks’ lovable country white boy thing going for him, for sure.  At least, she thought he was a white boy.  He had black hair like Elvis; he was definitely light-skinned, but he seemed to tan differently from the other white people she saw on campus.  They usually turned a shade of gold; Scott actually got a tad darker, like bronze.  He had broad shoulders, high cheek bones, and goddamn did he have a killer smile.

And he sat right next to her.

“Excuse me,” he said to her, but with his accent it sounded more like
‘scuse me.

“Yes,” Trina responded, and she wanted to follow that word up with
you can have me at any time,
but she managed to hold herself back.

“Did you get what chapters we’re supposed to read for Thursday?”

And that was it, they made eye contact, and Trina could already feel a moistening between her legs.

“It’s, um,” she stammered.  She looked through her notes.  “Chapters four and five.”

Scott smiled—
aw, shit
—and replied, “Thank you much.”

“Thank you,” Trina said.  “I mean, you’re welcome.”

~ ~ ~

“Veronica,” Trina said into the phone.  “What do you know about white boys?”

Trina was in her room at Gramma’s house, notebooks and papers strewn about on top of her bed, which she knew she probably should be paying attention to but just couldn’t at the moment, and was chatting with Veronica instead.

“White boys?” Veronica started.  “Well, I know they have lower melanin counts than most folks…”

“You know what I mean, girl.”

“Hold up, Trina, let me check if boo-boo is around.”  There was a momentary pause on the phone.  “Alright, I’m back, what’s going on?  Who is this white boy you’re seeing?”

Trina laughed, “I’m not seeing anybody; not yet, at least.”

“Well there’s gotta be someone you have in mind if you’re asking.”

“That doesn’t matter right now, Veronica.  I just…I want to know, I haven’t any seen any of the races mixing here yet and I want to know if that’s going to be scandalous in this town or not.”

“Well,” Veronica started. “I can tell you what happened to me.  It was in high school, I saw this guy named Kent.  He was alright, I liked him, the sex was good, but his friends gave him a hard time, I think.  They was always nice to my face but I could tell they didn’t really want me around.  After a while we just drifted apart and we stopped calling each other frequently and he started seeing this white girl.”

“Just like that, huh?”

“Yeah,” Veronica answered.  “I don’t know, that’s high school, though, so it might not be the same bullshit when you’re older.  Just be prepared to get lots of looks and have your friends tell you you got the jungle fever, or it’s just a phase or whatever.”

“Hmm,” was all Trina could say at the moment.

“So tell me,” Veronica said. “Who is it?”

“There ain’t nobody,” Trina insisted, and mentally she was surprised at herself that she was already talking country.

“Is it Scott?”

“What!” Trina exclaimed.

“You can’t fool me!” Veronica laughed.  “I sit just a couple rows back from you, remember?  I see the way you look at him.  So are you letting him get all up in there yet?”

“Oh my God, Veronica, you are ratchet as hell,” Trina told her.  “No, we haven’t even talked, I’m just asking, lord!”

“Well, whenever you get with him, you make sure you give your girl Veronica all the juicy details, and I mean
all
the
juicy
details, ya hear me?”

“I am gonna hang up on you, Veronica,” Trina said.  The louder her voice got, the more country was sounding, and it continued to baffle her.  “Nobody is gettin’ all up in this and ain’t nothin’ happenin’.  I’m just asking!”

They both laughed like high school girls.

What’s coming over me?
Trina thought.

~ ~ ~

It was Thursday afternoon and Trina was walking home from the bus stop.  While Veronica and her boyfriend were able to give her a ride that morning, their schedules didn’t work out for this afternoon, and so Trina was off on her own two feet once again.

Maybe she was going crazy, but she didn’t mind so much.  It was a bright sunny day, and the once foreboding-looking trees were at their lush, bright green best and provided a nice view as she walked by.  It was a cool afternoon, but the humidity kept the air thick and comfortable enough, even if it was doing her hair no favors.  There were unseen bugs that you could hear chirping everywhere, but on this day, on this walk, it just made the place seem alive, and in a good way.

In fact, if Trina hadn’t known better she would have sworn she had a smile on her face as she walked on the gravel edge on the side of the road.

Her expression turned to one of curiosity—and just a bit of apprehension—as a truck drove past her, she saw the brake lights come on, the vehicle slowed and then pulled over in front of her.

What could this be about?

Trina continued walking, but her pace slowed as she approached.

She saw the arm pop out of the driver’s side window first.  It was a white guy, it looked like.  Then the head came out.  Black hair, fair complexion, high cheek-bones…

It was Scott!

“Now,” Scott said with a warm smirk, his eyes squinted just a bit. “What is a pretty girl like you doing walking along the side of a road like this?”

Trina couldn’t believe it.  She quickened her pace, careful not to look like she was desperately running after him.

Scott continued before Trina could respond.  “Don’t you know there are rednecks riding around in trucks out there you gotta watch out for?”

Trina laughed, “Is that right?  Well I guess I better get on the other side of the road here, then.”

Scott licked his lips and Trina felt her knees get weak at the sight.  “Tell you what, though, you get in this ride and I’ll make sure you get to where you’re going without having to worry about them rednecks.”

“Besides you, right?” Trina laughed again.

Scott laughed, too.  “Besides me.  Of course.”

“I think I might take you up on that offer.”

Trina hopped over to the passenger’s side door and it was already unlocked for her.  She opened it and jumped in, probably looking a bit too eager.  She dropped her bag between her legs and hooked the seatbelt.

“So where you headed?” he asked.  There was no ‘are’ in the sentence.

“I’m going off to my Gramma’s.  Just keep going this direction a ways, I’ll tell you when to turn.”

Scott put the car in gear and maneuvered the truck back onto the road.

“Seriously,” Trina said.  “Scott, I really do appreciate this.”

“Ah, you’re welcome.” Scott replied.  “It’s Tina, right?”

“You’re close,” Tina answered, and she realized she had used his name before they’d even really introduced themselves to each other.  “Trina.”

“Got it, Trina.  So what happened to your car?”

“Nothing’s wrong with my car.  Nope, the car’s totally fine.  It’s the license that’s my problem.”

“Why’s that?  You get it suspended?”

“Nah, no, it’s not that,” Trina explained.  “I never had one in the first place; I just have a learner’s permit.”

“Really?” Scott said. “You tried taking the test?”

“I did,” she said.  “I’m a good driver, the instructor even said so, but I got tripped up when he asked me to do a roundabout.”

“Do what?”

Oh lord, the way the white boys said ‘do what’ around here was so damn delicious.

Trina answered, “I mean the, um, the turnabout.”

“Oh, the turnabout,” Scott realized.  “You don’t know how to do that?”

“Well, I don’t think they test for that in Chicago, where I’m from,” said Trina.  “It just got sprung on me on the spot.”