Royce was closer. I could smell the floral perfume she’d sprayed on this evening. But, it was her arousal that I smelledthe most. I clipped my breaths, knowing that I wouldn’t be able to deny her. Her desires overwhelmed me. It didn’t matter much once they were discovered.
“Ishmael, wait.”
She reached the bottom of the steps just as I pulled open the front door. I was met by two niggas dressed in black, both with questionable looks.
“Royce?”
“It’s fine, August.”
I didn’t care to explain myself to a fucking stranger. Neither did I care to halt so Royce could catch up to me. Still, she managed. With all her might, she pulled me toward her.
“Ishmael.”
Face to face.
Chest to chest.
Nose to nose.
My eyes on her. Her eyes on me.
My chest heaved. Hers rose and fell.
Still, no words were exchanged. I stilled. So did Royce. As much as I wanted to forget her, I wanted to remember her. As much as I wanted to punish her, I wanted to marry her. As much as I wanted to hurt her, I wanted to heal her. As much as I wanted to ignore her, I wanted to hear her. Hug her. Kiss her.
She’s dangerous. I concluded.For me.
I was too far gone. Royce was a liability. My feelings ran too deep. I had no limits. I had no boundaries. I only had fears. Fears of not having her in my world. And the thought of it crippled me.
“I’m sorry.”
I didn’t have any words. All there was was feelings. They silenced me. I left her where she stood, desperately needing to put distance between us.
EIGHTEEN
I forkedthe greens on my plate. The bleakness was consuming. Still, it wasn’t as heinous as the pain.
I pushed the food down my throat. I could feel the disgust displayed on my bare face. Makeup was a luxury at this point. So was getting dressed. And thinking. And living.
Ishmael’s absence was damning. I’d gone my entire life without him. It was baffling how difficult navigating the last two days in the wake of his absence were.
Grief had me by the neck. It stole my joy. It stole my happiness. It stole my strength. It stole my will. It stole my Ishmael.
“Girl eat your fucking food and go get your nigga back. I’m so tired of you looking ugly. And raggedy.”
“Leave her alone, Rou. She’s going through something,” Rome chastised.
“Something is going through her. Who let her come outside dressed like this?”
I was clothed in a crewneck, sweats, and a pair of furry slides.
“You look fine,” Roaman argued.
“Don’t lie to her.” Roulette sipped from her drink.
“Must I remind you how sad you were when Israe–”
“Sad and ugly are two different things. So are sad and poorly dressed. It’s never that serious. The dick isn’t dead. It’s just upset. There’s always a chance if it’s still alive.”
