He wore a blue hoodie, jeans, sneakers, and there was something dark on his sleeve that could’ve been anything. It wasn’t my business. I didn’t want to think about what.
He didn’t step forward. Didn’t say anything right away either. Just stood there looking at me, waiting for me to make the first move.
But that wasn’t how things worked.
I had spent months longing to feel his hands on my skin, his breath on my neck, and at the same time, I felt sorry for him. Even in the darkness, I could see the exhaustion etched into his face. His brows were drawn in, and his jaw clenched so tight I saw the muscle working underneath his skin.
I broke eye contact before I lost myself in him. I hadn’t sought him out. He’d landed on my doorstep. I shouldn’t have had to break the ice, but I knew if I didn’t get the ball rolling, we’d stand here looking at each other all night.
“What happened to you?” I asked without opening the door any wider.
Booda glanced over his shoulder down the breezeway behind him, then his eyes locked with mine for a heartbeat before scanning the darkness of my apartment beyond the crack in the door.
“We need to talk. Inside.” He looked back at me, his eyes slowly moving over my body as if he were taking inventory of every part of me.
“No.” I couldn’t give in too easily.
“Koko—”
“No! Get the hell away from me!” I shouted. “It’s four in the morning, and I’m exhausted.”
“Koko—”
“Save it!” I said, cutting him off before he could say anything more.
“I hurt you, and you obviously have questions. Move away from the door.”
I shook my head, still not ready for him to invade my space.
Booda never came empty-handed. He brought time. He brought attention. He stepped in before I finished figuring things out, and most of the time, he got it right. I didn’t have to chase him down or wonder where I stood. He made himself clear without making it a conversation.
Groceries showed up without a list. My car stayed full without me having to stop for gas. Small things, but they added up until I got used to not reaching for anything myself.
And that was the part I couldn’t trust.
The last time he decided he didn’t want to deal with me, he didn’t say it to my face. Matter fact, didn’t say anything at all. I got word by messenger.
I had to sit with that heartbreak while trying to figure out who I was. He and our relationship were all I rememberedfor months. Then, when I finally remembered his mother, she delivered a devastating blow at his request.
I never found the reason for his betrayal. There was no argument to point to, no line I could trace it back to. Just him, there one day, gone the next.
That wasn’t how he had ever handled me before.
And that was what stayed with me.
I had spent the next few months getting used to doing things on my own again. Making my own choices, even when they were small. Sitting in a quiet that didn’t come with somebody stepping in to fill it. It took time to get comfortable with that again.
If I opened that door, I knew how it would go.
He would walk in like nothing had changed. He would take over the room without asking. I would let him. Not because I had to, but because it felt easier than fighting him on it.
And I didn’t trust myself to stop once I started.
“How could you do me like that? I would’ve mopped the ocean with a napkin for you, and you knew it, but you still hurt me.”
Booda bit down on his bottom lip, his eyes glistened, and he lifted his hand as if he wanted to reach for me. Then, thought better of it and dropped it to his side. The emotions I’d seen had vanished as quickly as they had come.
That was the thing about Booda that always got under my skin. He had this way of absorbing his feelings without letting them touch him. He’d learned a long time ago that reacting to emotion was a waste of energy, so he never did.
