My phone buzzes beside my keyboard, and my chest tightens before I look.
Maybe it’s them.
But it’s Javonte.
I stare at his name, then set the phone back down. I’m not ready for him. Not here, not with my head still half in crisis mode and half back at lunch, replaying every careful thing he said.
By the time my tasks are done, I’m one of the first people out of the office. Porsche and Charisse still haven’t answered, so there’s no dinner tonight. I tell myself it’s fine. I can go home, change clothes, eat leftovers, and not make being alone mean anything.
My car connects to my music as soon as I turn it on, and the sound hits too loud. Too bright. Too much. I turn the whole system off and start the thirty-minute drive in silence.
It doesn’t help.
All I can think about is Javonte. Him helping me choose the fruity tea I wanted. Him asking about my friends and knowing things about them like he has been paying attention from a distance. Him looking nervous, attentive, careful in a way that made me want to believe him and punish him at the same time.
He told me he sees it now.
Now is the word I keep getting stuck on.
What about then?
Once I’m home, the silence feels bigger than it should. My art is on the walls, bright and familiar, but tonight even that doesn’t do what I need it to do. I turn on the lamp by the couch, kick off my shoes, and sit down without changing clothes.
My phone feels awkward in my pocket, so I set it on the coffee table, screen up.
Still nothing from Porsche or Charisse.
Except they’ve been online.
I open social media before I can talk myself out of it, and the first thing I see is a post from Charisse from ten minutes ago. Then Porsche in a bikini on somebody’s beach, posted thirty minutes ago.
They saw their phones. They just didn’t answer me.
I set mine down and stare at the ceiling. I shouldn’t be this grown and feel like I don’t have anybody to call when my life feels too quiet. I know it’s dramatic. I have friends who love me. I have a life full of women who would show up for me if I said the right thing in the right way.
But tonight, I don’t want to explain enough to be understood. I just want someone to choose me without me having to make a case for why I need it.
My eyes move back to my phone.
Javonte’s message sits there.
I turn the screen off and set it face down.
What does he have to say that he didn’t already say at lunch? What could he possibly text me that would make a year of pain rearrange itself into something easier?
Nothing...Probably nothing.
I last about thirty seconds before I pick up the phone again.
Then I open the message.
Chapter 13 Javonte
Me: I keep thinking about you sitting across from me today.
It felt like us. I don’t expect you to trust that yet, but I’d like another chance to sit with you again. Can I take you out for another fruity tea tomorrow?
I keep rereading the text. Checking to see if she’s read it and coming up with nothing.
