ChapterOne
PASSIN’ ME BY
Dexter
November, Last Year
My dick got me messed up! Every ounce of common sense flew out the window the moment I’d fucked Ebony Simms. And, apparently, my sense continued to evade me because I was still with her six months later. There was no reason I should’ve ever pursued her in the first place. Yet, I’d wasted time dating, gifting, pretending I could stand her…This shit is so fuckin’ stupid.
“Dex?” Ebony called for the fiftieth time in the past hour. “Did you hear me?”
No. I’d tuned her out minutes ago. Work was busy enough. I didn’t have time to coddle a grown-ass woman who liked to complain about something small every damn day. The sun was too bright, or the coffee was too cold, or the moon wasn’t full, or the manicurist left nail polish on her cuticle. It was nonstop.
Ebony stood in front of me, her arms folded across her ample breasts. “I don’t know why I can’t go with you to Atlanta now.”
The argument hadn’t changed since Ebony found out my best friend, Justus, was getting married. I’d explained countless times that I was going to Georgia for a few weeks leading up to the wedding. Not just for wedding shit but because I had business to take care of and I wanted to spend time with Duke. The last thing I wanted or needed was to be tethered to Ebony for the duration of my trip.
I let out a heavy sigh. “We’ve already gone through this.”Over and over again. “I have shit to do, work to do. If you want to come—”
My phone buzzed. I glanced at the text message that came through. I’d ignored the last twenty or more messages my siblings had sent, and now I was being threatened with bodily harm if I didn’t answer.
Dallas:Please don’t make my pregnant ass come over and knock you the hell out, Dex.
Blake:That part.
Duke:Damn, Dallas. Stop acting like my niece or nephew will be here next week.
My sister wasn’t even out of her first trimester yet, but she acted like she was eight months pregnant. Which was surprising because Dallas wasn’t exactly my dramatic sibling.
Asa:Exactly. Wait until she actually gets a baby bump.
Paityn:And Blake just wants to fight.
Dallas typed out a long-ass reply that I wasn’t about to read. Tons of laughing emojis and GIFs followed, then Dallas wrote:Fuck all y’all muthafuckas.
“I’m talking to you.” Ebony asked impatiently, her hand on her bare hip. “Who are you texting?”
I peered up at her. “Can you get dressed, please?”
“I thought we were going to…”
Ebony was beautiful. Stunning, really. She was also successful, intelligent, sophisticated. Two weeks ago, I might’ve reacted to her offer with an affirmative “hell yeah”. But she was a lot of damn work and the novelty of consistent ass had worn off. Because even with her standing in front of me butt-ass-naked, I didn’t want her anymore. And neither did my dick.
“Nah, I’m good.” I scrolled through the messages, reading all of them quickly. Before I could finally respond, though, Duke chimed in.
Duke:He’s probably fuckin’. Leave the man alone.
I snickered. Fuckin’ was the last thing I wanted to do at that moment. I typed out my response:I’m busy, not getting busy.Get some business.
The moment I hitsend, more messages popped up, each one with various emojis and a lot of cuss words. It wasn’t until my little sister, Bliss, spoke up that all the texts stopped.
Bliss:Enough! This is dumb. Ebony can be part of Secret Santa. Damn.
The conversation about my current girlfriend participating in our family Secret Santa party had been the subject in our group text for weeks. Dallas had led the charge, adamantly protesting Ebony’s participation for no reason other than she didn’t like her. Of course, Blake co-signed because she didn’t like her either. Actually, no one in my family liked Ebony. Should’ve been a huge red flag, but that self-imposed period of celibacy that I’d taken to concentrate on my business had apparently rendered me incapable of recognizing the warning signs.
Blake:Where’s that trick, Ebony, anyway?
I typed out the words “that’s over” before I could even think about it. Then, quickly deleted it because technically it wasn’t. So instead of responding to the final text, I locked my phone and sighed. “Ebony, we need to talk.”
