My stomach drops from hearing that confession finally come out of his mouth, but my brain doesn’t get the memo that he’s shooing me away so I keep talking.
“He…he said you had a cut…on your stomach. Is it because of what you did for Tamryn?”
Another rumble of thunder shakes his front porch as he eyes my face, then my body. “We not doing this tonight.”
I swallow a choke.
He sighs, turning around and holding the door open with his elbow. “Come in and let me get my keys?—”
“But it’s raining. You’re…you’re scared of the rain. Remember?” I blurt.
I wasn’t supposed to say that. I was supposed to belt out a sexy, mysterious quip that would make him change his mind, but that neediness makes me regress right back into the Lovie who doesn’t know what to do around men anymore.
The muscles in his back flex as he takes his elbow off the door and curls his hand around the knob. Sadly, I had wrangled Yesenia back to me in the same pathetic way.
“Hey, Yesenia,” I murmured after finally finding her black ringlets on the subway platform. “I…I was thinking about what you told me your therapist said about you…”
“Does that guy who answered your door know you’re scared of the rain? He’s probably never even been out in a storm at night by himself like us, huh?”
He snorts out a quiet laugh, turning back around and facing me. “Is my baby bird jealous I got company over?”
Yes.
A shallow breath escapes through my lips. “No.”
“‘Kay.” He smirks. “I know you ain’t get dropped off over here just to tell me your uncle gossips about me in front of you or remind me of some shit I told you the other night to make you feel better. Come inside so I can get my ke?—”
“I had to come. How else was I supposed to tell you? I don’t have your number.”
Wait.
That wasn’t supposed to come out either.
He chuckles to himself, murmuring, “So you want my number? That’s what this about?”
“I just…I think…you know?—”
“You just, you think, you know?” He lifts his cheek. “Nah. I don’t do all that hemming and hawing. You know what you doing by coming here. You know I’m the weak one out of the two of us. If you wanna keep up with me, then just say that at least.”
“Keep up with you?”
“Yeah…ain’t that what you want? Tryna make sure I ain’t playing daddy to no other baby birds?”
“Yeah,” I finally reply pathetically. “Yeah, Rich. I am.”
The words make my shoulders relax in a way that only happened after I had one of those lonely orgasms he induced.
He blinks slowly, then reaches out to thump my balled fist hanging at my side that I don’t even remember balling up. His touch makes the yearning between my legs heavier.
A flash of lightning zigzags across the dark sky, and the neighborhood dog clatters up the porch, whimpering. He twirls in a circle before sitting right next to me and staring up at us.
Rich rests his head on the doorframe, taking a swig of his beer while staring at me and the dog. Another Rich question is brewing right along with that storm that sent me running to him.
He swallows, eyeing my stilettos, then pointing toward them. “Do New York own them too?”
This time I didn’t fret before sticking my feet in the shoes because now I know Rich likes “too much.” He likes me to wear all the dainty, girly things that I like so his eyes can caress my legs then droop into low slits afterward.
“No, he doesn’t own them. They’re just really bad Rene Caovilla dupes I found at the flea market in college.”
