I folded my arms across my chest, more for myself than for him. “You doing a lot.”
“I ain’t doing nothing,” he said, his deep, sultry voice wrapping around me in a way I hadn’t felt in too long.
My chest rose and fell slower this time, but it didn’t steady, not with him standing there, not with the way his attention stayed fixed on me.
“Stop,” I muttered.
“Stop what?”
“This,” I said, even though I hadn’t walked away, hadn’t created any space between us, hadn’t done anything I knew I should have.
His hand came up, and when his fingers brushed my wrist, light as it was, it still hit too hard.
My body trembled, a current of electricity awakening parts of me I'd forgotten existed. His fingers wrapped around my wrist, his thumb pressed against my pulse point, feeling the rapid beating there.
"You're still here," he said, his voice soft with wonder.
I snatched my arm away, taking a step back to create some space between us. "Of course I'm still here. Where else would I be?"
He didn't answer, just watched me with those eyes that always saw too much.
"Why now?" I asked, hating the crack in my voice. "Why contact me after all this time?"
Booda glanced toward my kitchen, then back at me. "You got anything to drink?"
I scoffed. "You not gon’ answer me?"
"I will," he said, brushing past me into the kitchen.
I turned and followed behind him, stopping at the threshold to watch him watch me.
“You gon’ stand there and look at me, or you gon’ get that drink I asked for?” He asked, flashing me a cocky smirk.
Rolling my eyes, I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, opened it, and drank half before setting it on the counter. Fuck him. I wasn’t handing it to him, and I didn’t want to quench his thirst, only wet his whistle.
Satisfied with myself, I leaned against the counter, arms folded tight across my chest as he looked at the bottle of water, then at me.
“Well? You got your drink. Talk. I need to understand why you abandoned me.”
He let out a hard breath and dragged his hand down his face. “I ain’t abandon you.”
“That’s what it felt like,” I shot back. “And last time I checked, that’s all that matters.”
“My momma told you what it was. I know she did.”
“She didn’t tell me why I couldn’t talk to you,” I said. “Or see you.”
“What would that have done? You think hearing my voice would’ve made that situation better?”
“It would’ve made it make sense.”
“Some things ain’t meant to make sense.”
“That’s not an answer.”
He paused for a moment, staring off into space as if he was thinking about what he wanted to say next.
Then…
