“But you don’t know me,” I countered.
“Knowing you ain’t required to give a fuck.”
I couldn’t bite back the smile that emerged.Why did I give a fuck that he gave a fuck?
The quickest silence filled the space, then I asked what he wanted to drink, to which he replied, “Whatever you’re drinking.”
“You might not wanna drink what I’m drinking, because what I’m drinking is soothing heartbreak.”
He chuckled. “So you're gonna punish yourself because a motherfucker did you wrong?”
“Who said I was punishing myself?” I asked, confused.
“Your intentions with the alcohol, sweetheart.”
“Maybe, but what else do you suggest?”
“I ain’t nobody to be giving advice. Told you I’m listening, Selah.”
I just looked at him. His existence was broody and weighted. He sat back against the massive sectional all god-like, as if he owned it. “I’m drinking to forget heartbreak, not to punish myself.”
“Still gonna remember it in the morning though, right? Except you’ll feel that shit too.”
“Thought you weren’t giving advice.”
He chuckled. “You right, but if you wanna get back at a nigga, crush his spirit.”
I sighed. He sounded like Siyah.Why did love require get back?“I just found I’ve been getting cheated on for god knows how long with a woman whose social media handle washecums4mewith an actual numeral four. To make matters worse…” My sentence trailed off.
He shook his head. “Believe it or not, you’re doing just that by being inaccessible, out of the way and not picking up that.” He then threw his head in the direction of my phone on the bar.
“But what about how I feel? Damn that. What about the stepping out? The out?—”
“Then step out. Probably won’t make you feel good in the long run, but in that moment it’ll ease something.”
I paused, looking at him. His words sat in the air between him and me like a balloon.
“I ain’t telling you to fuck me. Hell nah, but go fuck somebody. Get your shit off. Just don’t do no amateur shit and fuck his friend or anything like that. Get that shit off for you.”
I licked my lips and grabbed the shot I’d poured. His words made me hot. I already knew I was about to do something I’d regret tomorrow. Be it the liquor or the man, I’d regret my actions in the morning. Instead of overthinking my next actions, I poured another shot. Then I put it to my lips and gulped it down.
I was too quiet for too long because his voice filled the space. “Are you good over there?”
“What if I want to fuck you? No strings or anything, just tonight.”
“I didn’t bring you up here for that.”
“Probably not, but I know what I want. I need to feel something that isn’t what I’m feeling right now. Can you help me with that?”
He was quiet, staring at me in deep thought. “You sure?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” He didn’t get up and come to me thirstily but instead remained on the sofa.
I rounded the bar, moving toward him on the sofa. When I was a few feet from him, I pulled my shirt off and peeled my jeans down, unaware of where my newfound confidence had spawned from, but I knew what I wanted, and right now, that was him.
“Do you have a condom?” I asked, not too gone to not inquire about that.
