Seven.
It was raining again.
For the last two weeks, the weather had been hurting my feelings with the on-again/off-again approach to sunny days. I thrived in warmth and sun – was way more affected than I wanted to be by dreary skies and wet sidewalks. But, all I could do was hope that once this system passed, all the rain would give new things the energy they needed to bloom.
I had to be optimistic about something.
If only pessimism weren’t so damn easy. It was honestly difficult to feel anything else as I clicked through the not-so-great pictures on my screen. Mostly, they were fine, but I didn’t operate on “fine”, preferring instead to set my sights on Troy’s descriptor of choice – brilliant.
These pictures, the ones from the salon, weren’t that.
I’d been staring at them for days now, trying to figure out where exactly things had gone wrong. Sure, the lighting could’ve been better, but that was one thing I’d actually just made the best of, by letting the cloudy day be part of the setting, instead of fighting against it. The rain on the windows became a backdrop, and a shot of one of the stylists taking extra care to protect her client with a rain bonnet before she left was one of my absolute favorite shots.
It was the shit I hadn’t considered that tanked the whole experience.
Like, the fact that half the shop was giving me this weird vibe from the time I walked in, as if I’d done something to them. I brushed it off, thinking maybe it was just nerves about having a camera put in their face. Everybody reacted differently, so I opted not to take it personally.
Until Mia walked in.
Obviously, I hadn’t known her name at first, but I recognized the face. Skin a few shades lighter than mine, high cheekbones, pretty features complimented by a sleek bob – this was the same woman who’d given me a sour look that day I’d run into Troy at f.w.b., and she was giving me the same sour ass attitude now, cutting her eyes, huffing and puffing every time I got near her or turned the camera remotely in her direction.
I didn’t even know this girl, but it was clear she had a problem with me that I didn’t understand – a problem she’d evidently shared with her little posse in the back corner of the shop. They whispered and giggled and rolled eyes, but couldn’t seem to simply ignore me, if my presence was that much of a bother. I wasn’t fazed by it in a “hurt feelings” kinda way, but more like a “why are you bitches ruining the vibe” kinda way, that made it hard to just get lost in the atmosphere and capture it with my lens.
So annoying.
“I wonder what Troy is doing right now,” Mia said, her voice suddenly way louder than it needed to be, making it clear she wanted to be heard. “Probably somewhere with Mia on the brain, like always.”
She wanted me to react – a satisfaction I would never give her based on any passive-aggressive bullshit. I kept snapping away, like I didn’t even hear her silly ass, because I wasn’t trying to. Troy was a grown, single man, who could do what he wanted to do.
Sucked for her that I was what he wanted to do.
When I didn’t give her any attention, she got louder, launching into a graphic retelling of the last time she and Troy had been together, at his place. I kept it cool on the outside, but on the inside, I couldn’t front – it irritated me to hear her telling the whole shop the things he’d done to her. Not because I cared about him screwing her – because he hadn’t done those things to me…
Yet.
“Okay Mia, we get it, damn,” one of the other stylists, Andrea, said. She was friends with Anika, and had been the one I approached about coming in to do this in the first place. Nik was no blabbermouth, so I doubted defending me was anywhere on Andrea’s agenda – she was just sick of Mia. Her face was wrinkled in obvious irritation. “This overly-detailed ass story sounds like some shit you found in the erotica section on Amazon, and don’t front like your little Kindle don’t be poppin’, because that would be a lie.”
Mia rolled her eyes. “Girl, whatever. No need to read about it when you can actually get a man to do it. What, has it been a while for you?”
Andrea stopped what she was doing as the shop went quiet, everybody wondering what was next. “First of all, men aren’t exactly discerning when it comes to ass, so please don’t act like getting one to screw you is some special skill. Second, I get plenty of sex and I read plenty of sex too. I like to keep up with the trends, bitch. And third – didn’t Troy quit your little silly ass like a year ago, and you’re still telling stories about him? That’s sad, huh?”
I almost choked on my own tongue trying not to laugh – a sound that was luckily swallowed by the reactions of the others in the salon as Mia’s face flushed red. For a second, I felt bad for her, but then I remembered that she’d embarrassed herself trying to make me uncomfortable.
And for what?
There technically wasn’t even anything going on between me and Troy, at least nothing for her to be pissy about. Sure, we’d slept together, but that was almost a month ago at this point. Since then, our interactions had been friendly – sexually charged, but still. As far as she could possibly know, Troy and I were friends. And not to mention, I wasn’t one to compete over a man – if she wanted to have a pissing contest, she would have it alone.
I left shortly after that, with Andrea laughing in Mia’s face while another stylist tried to calm the situation down. I found myself fighting off an unfair level of annoyance at Troy, even though I knew it wasn’t his fault. I’d told him I was going to the salon though – he could’ve warned me about his crazy ex.
And now, here I was.
Days later, up past midnight, with Mia’s stupid ass pretty face on my screen. I hadn’t seen her – or Troy, for that matter – again since that day, but I was sure it was only a matter of time.
I had a rule though.
I didn’t fight, didn’t argue over men, because no one – not him or the woman he had acting crazy – was going to take up precious real estate in my life.
With that said, I liked Troy. And since Mia hadn’t been able to offer a rebuttal to Andrea’s assertion that she was old news, I wasn’t inclined to avoid him because of her. Honestly… I was tempted to go ahead and really snatch him up, just to throw it in her face. But that was a level of vindictiveness I’d put behind me, and a manipulation that Troy didn’t deserve. I wouldn’t risk hurting someone else just to be petty.
I’d sure love to see the look on her face though.
I was smiling at the thought when a knock sounded at the door. A glance at the time in the bottom corner of my computer screen confirmed that it was past “unexpected guest” hours. If Anika were home, I would assume that it was someone for her, but she’d gone with Aunt Darcy to the wedding of someone from Uncle Will’s side, who I didn’t know. Reluctantly, I pulled myself out of my chair to go to the door.
A quick glance through the peephole left me quite confident that the visitor wasn’t there for Anika.
I took a fortifying breath before I opened the door only as wide as the chain latch would allow. On the other side, impish hazel eyes peered at me, gracing my face for only a moment before they traveled greedily lower, landing on my breasts in the tank top I wore, with no bra.
“My eyes are up here,” I said, ignoring the perfection of the face those eyes belonged to. “And it’s not quite warm enough for you to be walking around without a shirt on, Josiah,” I scolded, forgetting just that quickly that I should’ve been ignoring his abs, too. “Your nipples are hard.”
“So are yours,” he shot back, in that too-smooth tone that had cost me my panties more times than I cared to admit.
I didn’t respond to that, verbally or physically, didn’t give him the satisfaction of crossing my arms over my chest to hide my obvious arousal. Instead, I leaned into the wall beside the door, keeping my hand on the doorknob.
“How can I help you, Josiah?”
His eyes crinkled at the corners as he gave me a sly grin and stepped a little closer. My heart rate increased, just a notch, as he pulled the pillow-soft flesh of his bottom lip between his teeth as he dipped his head, contributing to the barely-bearable sexual tension. “Well…,” he sighed, then fixed me with a gaze that was meant to disarm. “I was hoping… maybe… to borrow a little sugar, if you have some to spare.”
“Uh-huh,” I laughed. “Just… a little… sugar? That’s all?”
He stepped closer, as close as he could with the chain still latched, and my hand still on the door. “Yeah. I’d be much obliged, neighbor.”
“Oh I’m sure,” I told him, as I shifted my position in the doorway. “Since we both know how much you like my… sugar.”
“Get so high off your love, don’t know how to behave,” he sang, literally, sounding so damn good, so much like D’Angelo that it broke right through my little defenses, and I had to close my eyes for a second before I laughed, and shook my head.
“And that, right there, is the problem, isn’t it? You don’t know how to behave.”
Josiah sucked his teeth, raising his arm to prop against the wall outside the door – an action that put his beautifully toned, butterscotch-brown bicep right in my view. “Come on, Jules. I thought you were on your, no commitments, screw love, get money vibe?”
“Yes and no,” I nodded. “But, I had a resolution to stop dealing with fuckboys, so…”
“But this is me,” he argued, not defending himself against that fuckboy allegation, because he couldn’t. “Jules… we got history. Good ass history.”
I shrugged. “That’s where I’m trying to leave it. As history.”
“Are you serious?” he asked, not exactly whining, but not exactly not whining either. “Look at what you do to me.”
Even though I knew better, I followed his gaze down the smooth plane of his chest and abs to a faint dusting of hair that led to his groin. My view was abruptly interrupted by the band of his sweatpants, but there was no mistaking the too-familiar bulge of his erection.
I cleared my throat, then lifted my eyes back to his. “You think that’s going to make me change my mind?”
“Will it?” Josiah asked, lifting his thick eyebrows in a way that made a giggle burst from my lips before I shook my head.
“No. You can probably take a picture though, go ahead and fire off a thirst trap that will bring another member of your harem running,” I suggested.
He blew out a sigh, and then undraped himself from my doorway, walking backward to his own door, across the hall. “You know you’re wrong, right?”
I smirked. “How do you figure that?”
“Being that fine, pussy that good, living right across the hall, and you’re depriving me.”
“I’m quite certain you’ll survive.”
He shook his head as his hand fell onto his doorknob. “Will I though?”
“Yes,” I laughed. “You will. Did you really think this was gonna work for you? J, before the day we saw you guys in the hall, I hadn’t seen you in years. Like half a decade. I’m not the same girl.”
He nodded. “I can tell. You got finer with age, I know.”
“What I’m talking about though is that I grew up.”
“So you’re not into the casual thing anymore, or what?”
“It’s not even that,” I shook my head. “I just… I need more than a “you up” text, or… a random knock on my door during booty call hours,” I told him, even as it played in my head that if this were Troy, my ankles would probably be on my shoulders. “I need a connection, that you and I don’t have anymore. We’ve outgrown it, J.”
His eyebrows went up. “You’re for real right now? Like our chemistry wasn’t crazy? Like you’re not still attracted to me?”
“Attraction isn’t it,” I snapped, remaining firm in my point. We both knew sex was off the table for tonight – now, I was just letting him know where I stood. “Am I saying you have to be my man, forsake all others? No. It can be just about the sex, but it has to be about sex that’s…. more than just something to do. Because we like the feel of each other’s skin, because we like each other. Not because I’m a warm body that will do the trick.”
Josiah nodded like he really did get where I was coming from, which made me smile, because I wasn’t sure I “got it” myself. Two months ago, I would’ve been all over him, none of this high-and-mighty “more than just something to do” shit that was coming from… out of the blue, as far as I wanted to admit.
But I knew better.
I said goodbye to Josiah and took myself back to my room, where I shut my computer down instead of going back to those pictures. I had enough for what I wanted to do, and any further deliberation on it would just lead me into further annoyance about Mia, when I wasn’t trying to give her that kind of space in my head.
I needed it to figure out this thing with Troy.
“Boy, I know you don’t think I’m about to give you the answer, do you?”
Troy looked up at me with wide eyes, holding the camera with one hand so that he could use the other to grab mine. “Come on, Ms. Nichols. Please?” he asked, running his tongue over his lips, looking exactly like the kind of trouble that would get my ass fired if he were really my student.
I was powerless against those eyes.
“I’ll tell you this one more time, okay?” I told him, taking a seat beside him on the bench we’d pulled out specifically for this. Instead of pulling the camera from his hands, I leaned in, using my finger to indicate the settings on the screen. “We opened up those blinds in the front, so that changed our lighting conditions. The test shot you took just now, what was wrong with it?”
“It was too bright. Everything was so blown out that you can’t see anything.”
“Meaning…?”
He frowned. “It’s overexposed?”
“Right. And how do we fix overexposure?”
“That’s what I’m asking you.”
“But you already know. What are the three main things?”
“Uh… shit. Um… ISO? And shutter speed?”
I nodded. “And…?”
“F-stop?”
“Or, aperture. Right. So if your image is collecting too much light, we need to look at all of those. So… show me.”
He cringed over it, but I was confident that he actually knew what to do already. That confidence proved to be well placed, because I watched with pride as he lowered his ISO, and then took a test shot. Went for shorter shutter speed, then took a test shot. Raised his aperture a few steps, and then, just as he was supposed to, took another test shot, then turned the camera to me with a smirk, wanting to show me what he’d done.
“Perfect,” I told him. “You have now successfully corrected your exposure, and taken an excellent picture of our test subject,” I grinned, looking away from the camera to where Storm had settled into a corner in my studio, using a blanket I’d knocked off the shelf earlier as her personal throne.
She’d followed Troy in here hours ago, for what was supposed to be another photography lesson. Not that it wasn’t, but it had been more than that too – a fun, laid-back interaction that did exactly nothing to help clear the confusion from my mind.
Ever since Josiah knocked on my door two nights ago, I’d been unsettled. Well… more unsettled, when it came to Troy. I’d been so clear with myself about my intention to not get involved with anyone, to enjoy myself but not get attached. But then I messed around and told Josiah I needed something deeper than an emotionless fling, before I’d even consciously come to that awareness on my own. And now that the cat was out of the bag on that, I realized just how connected to Troy I already was.
I couldn’t help it.
Wasn’t sure I wanted to help it.
Not when I was finally settling into something I hadn’t experienced in a long time – or hell, maybe ever. I was happy, all around. Not happy in one area, miserable in another, kinda okay over here, just… happy.
And I had every intention of soaking it all up.
“Yeah, I guess my teacher has been aiight,” Troy shrugged, smirking as he stood to put his camera back into its bag. “I suppose you deserve a little credit.”
I laughed. “Uh huh. You can keep your credit, I don’t need it. How about you put these strong biceps to use like you promised, and hang these pictures up for me?”
He scrunched up his face. “I said I would do that? Today?”
“Yes, you did,” I reminded him. “Remember, we called it an even trade?”
Troy’s gaze left me, moving along the wall to the stack of the framed images propped against the floor, waiting to grace the walls of my studio. This was actually a task I’d done before, then took them all down to choose different, more cohesive shots for the mood I wanted in the studio. Instead of the black and white I’d previously chosen, these were all in vivid color.
“I don’t know… those look pretty big, and I kinda have something else I’m supposed to be doing in a little bit.”
My hands moved to my hips. “Are you—”
“Damn, you were about to get really mad weren’t you?” Troy interrupted, chuckling as he approached me. “Relax, mama,” he said, briefly cupping my chin before he moved on, walking over to the framed pictures. “I told you I would help, and that’s what I plan to do.”
“You’re gonna stop playing with me like that,” I scolded, even as I took a deep breath to try to calm my racing heart. Those “mamas” he liked to throw around, and the fact that he’d touched me like that – even though it was brief, and innocent – stirred something in me.
“You ain’t gone do shit,” he teased, making me laugh.
We spent the next hour hanging those frames, talking and laughing like we’d been doing all morning, until we came to the last one. Troy picked it up, studying it as he carried it to the last empty hook, right beside my office.
“This is an interesting shot…” he mused as he hung it and then stepped back, staring like he was trying to figure it out. “Who gets a tiny warning symbol tattooed over their heart?”
I moved to stand beside him, studying the shot. A nude female torso, composed so that the face was outside of the frame, and although you could see the curve of breasts, it cut off just before the darkening of the areolas on either side. The symbol, done in red and black ink, rested right over the heart. A rounded rectangle, with an exclamation set into the middle.
“I do.”
It wasn’t even the size of my pinky nail. Maybe half that. Something I’d done years ago, in a fit of… I don’t know. I couldn’t articulate it then, and still couldn’t now.
“You serious?” Troy asked, his gaze going immediately to my chest, even though my shirt wasn’t cut low enough for it to be visible right now. Rolling my eyes, I tugged my shirt down a bit, showing him the tattoo that most people didn’t give a second look, probably thinking it was a mole, freckle, or scar because of the size.
“How the hell did I not see this the night we…”
I shrugged. “Pretty sure once my dress was off, my nipples got all your attention.”
“Sounds about right,” he smirked, reaching out to run his fingers over the miniscule tattoo. “What does this mean though? Is it a warning for us, or a reminder for you?”
“A reminder for me,” I told him with a playful shove, feigning offense. “Why would I need to come with a warning? Jules is good for you.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know about all that. I’m really trying to understand your tat though.”
“What’s understood doesn’t need to be explained though.”
“I just said I didn’t understand though.”
“Then maybe… it’s not for you to know?”
Both eyebrows went up then, and he nodded. “Okay. I can accept that.”
“Nah, I’m kidding,” I laughed. “It’s just… one of those things I’m not really sure how to put into words. I got it when I was nineteen years old. Angry and confused. Reminding myself to be careful with my heart, after having it pretty badly stomped on. It’s a fragile thing, so… we have to act like it.”
Troy nodded. “Can’t say I disagree. So how do you go about it?”
“Go about what? Protecting my heart?” I let out a dry laugh as I shrugged. “Uh… by trying not to get it involved. Having fun, going with the flow, but being mindful.”
“Trying?”
“Hmm?”
“Yeah…” he pushed his hands into the pockets of his sweats. “You said trying not to get your heart involved.”
“Oh! Well… sometimes you can’t help it.”
I didn’t have time to be embarrassed over the implications of what I’d just let spill out, because my stomach chose that moment for a loud, growling complaint about my lack of a meal before I’d rushed to the studio this morning. So, I got to be embarrassed about that instead.
“Aiight, so on that note,” Troy said, openly laughing at me, “how about I go grab us some late lunch, come back, we eat, and then I can re-hang those backdrops up front for you. Cause right now, they look a little shaky.”
“Really?!” I gasped, rushing to the main studio where they were. They’d looked fine to me when Anika and I hung them, weeks ago, but now that he mentioned it… “Oh God…”
“Don’t even sweat it. I got you when I get back. You allergic to anything? Got any special requests?”
“Where are you going?”
“Pot Liquor,” he said, in a “duh” sort of tone. “Charlie only does those baked sticky wings once a week, and today is the day,” he added, rubbing his hands together.
“Well I definitely need to try some of those,” I told him. “And some of that mac and cheese. And salad.”
“Wings, salad, mac and cheese. Got it. I’ll be back.”
“Okay.”
Once he left, I let out a deep breath as I shook my head.
There’s no good reason for him to be that fine.
That wasn’t a complaint though – his good looks were a much less dangerous thing to focus on than the fact that he was funny, and interesting, and… kind. It was an underrated quality these days, when so many men were so emotionally underdeveloped that it was considered a normal thing – the mark of being a man. Sure, I didn’t know him well enough to brand him some paragon of maturity, but there was a depth there that left no question in my mind that in dealing with Troy, I was dealing with… a man. Not a cheap parody of one.
I had a smile on my face as I took a step back, admiring the changes in the studio. It was coming along beautifully, which only served to raise my level of excitement about the launch party I was planning for a few weeks from now.
It was Uncle Will’s idea, and I couldn’t help laughing thinking about it even now. “Uppity negros on social media and reality TV have a party for everything. If they can have a party to tell us if a baby has a dick or not, baby girl can have a party for her pictures. Anybody got a problem, tell them I said so. And tell all those new Blacks in Mahogany Heights they better show up, too.”
He’d said that to Aunt Darcy while we were all on a group call, and of course, she and Anika had run with it. Nothing had been made public yet, but I had very little doubts that “lack of attendance” would be an issue, not with Anika in charge.
I could already see it in my mind – great music, good food, generous alcohol, and my pictures lining the walls, on display for everyone to see. That mental image brought up a warm, tingly feeling that made me grin even harder, until I heard the distant chime of my cell phone ringing.
I jogged down to my office where I’d left it, trying to catch the caller before they hung up. I didn’t recognize the number, but that didn’t mean much since I hadn’t even been here long.
“Hello?” I asked, bringing the phone to my ear.
“Juliet. That sweet voice of yours is like music to my ears, sweetheart. How are you?”
Sick to my stomach.
I dropped into the chair by the desk, trying to manage the sudden weakness in my legs.
“Juliet? Are you there?”
I squeezed my eyes shut. “Yes. What do you want, Greg?”
“I want a little more respect for your old man, but what are you gonna do?”
I wanted to correct him. Wanted to remind him that he wasn’t my father, that the man who deserved that title had died when I was five years old. He hadn’t gotten the opportunity to raise me, no. And I only barely remembered him. But I remembered enough to understand that they were very different men. This one was just garbage the woman who birthed me married.
“I expected to see you at your mother’s service. You had no right to not be there.”
“I’m hanging up the phone,” I said, finally finding my tongue, but I didn’t follow through quickly enough for him to not respond.
“Now hold on there. Your mother left something here at the house for you, but if you don’t want to hear about it, then…”
My eyes narrowed. “She left something… for me?”
“Letters. After you pulled your little temper tantrum and moved outta here like you was grown, she wrote this stuff out. Whole box of them. I can just throw them—”
“No!” I pushed my hand into my hair, gripping a fistful of hair that I honestly considered ripping out at the root, anything to distract from the turbulence I was feeling. “I…please don’t.”
You aren’t supposed to care, Jules. You told yourself not to.
“I can give you an address to send them,” I offered. “But… please. I want to see them.”
“I haven’t laid eyes on you in how many years? You haven’t picked up a phone and called? But you expect me to go out of my way?” he asked, indignant. “You want them, you come get them.”
“No,” I hissed, as my heart slammed against the front of my chest. “I’m not doing that.”
“Why? You too good for this house?”
“You know why.”
He scoffed. “Oh God, don’t tell me you’re still on that nonsense from years ago. I know teenagers with all their raging hormones and all that… y’all can get a little confused, it’s easy. But surely you’re old enough now to recognize your mistake. That it was all a misunderstanding.”
I squeezed my eyes shut again, biting down on my lip to keep from screaming. I wasn’t confused then, and not now either.
I hadn’t misunderstood anything.
With my eyes still closed, I swallowed hard, trying to keep my intense nausea at bay. “If you could please just—”
“I already told you, I’m not doing anything. I married your mother, kept a roof over your head, clothes on your back for you to prance around for those little knucklehead boys and you can’t even show some gratitude? You want the letters, you come get them, and don’t bring that cousin of yours or any of your little friends to this house. You got two weeks. And then I’m throwing this shit out.”
And then he hung up.
As if I’d been the one to interrupt his great day with a phone call that left him feeling like swallowing that handful of pills ten years ago wouldn’t have been such a bad idea.
No.
No.
I’d worked long and hard to move past that feeling, and I wouldn’t – couldn’t – allow him to take me there again. I wanted to cry, wanted to scream, but I didn’t do either, because I heard the chime over the door telling me that Troy was back. All I wanted was to forget that phone call had even happened so I swallowed it.
It must’ve shown on my face though.
As soon as I stepped into the hall to find him with his earbuds in, bobbing his head and rapping along with whatever he was listening too, his whole expression changed.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, hands full of bags with the Pot Liquor logo. “Something happened?”
I shook my head. “Stupid phone call. I don’t want to talk about it. I want to eat. Those bags smell amazing.”
He stared at me for a few more seconds, and then gave me a subtle nod accepting my desire to change the subject. A simple gesture that meant more than he knew.
“We got lucky, actually. Last two orders of those wings I was telling you about.”
“Nice! We can eat out front at the prop table, instead of squeezing into the office,” I told him, following as he turned to go back down the hall. I showed him where to put the bags down, then to the bathroom to wash our hands, and then back out front to settle in to eat.
The smell of the food must’ve roused Storm from her nap, because we found her circling the table from the floor, nose in the air like she was trying to figure it out. I felt a little bad, but only for a moment, before I watched in awe as Troy removed a plastic to-go bowl from the bags with the rest of the food, then spread out a paper napkin on the floor before he put it down and opened it.
Storm dove into it immediately, and I stepped closer to see her chowing down on what appeared to be a chopped baked chicken breast and brown rice. Troy put a clean, empty bowl beside her, and then cracked open a bottle of water to pour her some. It took him a second to notice that I was watching his every move, and when he did, he looked up with a sheepish, sexy smile that made my chest tight.
“What?” he asked, as if he didn’t already know.
I shook my head. “Nothing really. It’s just… it’s really sweet that you ordered food for Storm too.”
He ran a hand over his beard, clearly a little embarrassed by the attention I was giving his kindness toward her. “I mean… I guess I just didn’t want to leave her out. You want to see what this chicken is hitting for though?”
“Sure,” I told him, letting him change the subject. “Like I said, it smells amazing.”
He nodded, biting his lip. “You think it smells good, wait until you taste it.”
He wasn’t wrong.
The chicken was amazing, and so were my salad and mac and cheese, and the dressing and cranberry sauce I stole from his plate so much that he finally just pushed it closer to me, and helped himself to my sides too.
Without complaining.
It was just… understood.
Once we were finished, we cleaned up and then went right into fixing the backdrops, despite Troy’s complaints about being too full to work. A swat to the ass got him moving, only I wasn’t expecting the retaliatory swat back, several minutes later – a move that set off a back and forth of silliness. At one point, he had me posing with the backdrops, wrapping myself in them like they were royal robes while he snapped away, and then was a good enough sport to pose for me too.
By the time we actually got the backdrops hung, the sun was starting to go down, but that was fine. I had no regrets about the way I’d spent my day, and from the disappointed look on Troy’s face when I announced it was probably time to call it a day, he wasn’t ready for it to be over either.
He confirmed what I thought by insisting on walking me home – a request I was not inclined to deny. Anika was working a late shift at the coffee house, and I wasn’t particularly interested in being alone, since I already knew where my thoughts would lead.
Back to that phone call.
So instead, we headed out, with Storm following. About halfway there though, she abandoned us for better company, and the closer we got to the bike shop, the deeper the feeling of dread in my chest built.
I did not want to go upstairs alone.
“Damn, I didn’t realize you were so close to the bakery.”
“Yeah,” I told him as we stopped in front of B.Spoked. “I haven’t figured out yet if it’s a good or bad thing.” I pulled open the main door and then looked back at Troy, waiting, as if his following me was a foregone conclusion. He went along with that part, but at the door to the apartment he hesitated, lingering in the entry after I’d unlocked it and stepped in and taken off my shoes.
“What is it?” I asked, dropping my bag onto the table beside the couch after I’d pulled it over my head. “Scared I’m gonna bite?”
“Nah.” He pushed his hands into his pockets, and shrugged. “Just… wondering what’s on the agenda.”
“Exactly one item.” I answered. “Do not leave Jules alone with her thoughts after creepy ass call from the creepy motherfucker who married my mother.”
That made him step inside, closing the door behind him as his eyes went all intense, nostrils flared in anger. “You’re saying he—”
“No,” I interrupted, raising my hands before his imagination took things too far. “He never touched me. It was…” I shook my head. “It sounds stupid to say out loud. It sounds like nothing.”
“But it wasn’t nothing. If your aunt let you come live with her, took over custody… it wasn’t nothing. It’s not stupid.”
He was looking at me so hard that I couldn’t help raising my eyes to his. “She said it was though. Said I was ruining things for her, that I was overreacting. Cause it was just… he just made me uncomfortable,” I spilled out, saying way more than I intended, but finding it hard to stop. “And that’s all it was at first. I just didn’t like how he looked at me, especially once I… once my body started developing. But I didn’t say anything, cause I thought I was just being crazy. But then he was always looking at me. Touching himself while he stared at my breasts, making comments about my body. How I was “growing up so well”. Especially once I made the cheerleading squad at school. I would never wear my uniform around him, because he made me feel so… disgusting.”
“You told your mother… and she told you that you were ruining things for her?” Troy asked, and it hurt like hell to nod my head yes to a question like that.
“I just started spending nights at Anika’s. I wouldn’t even ask. I would just go, whenever I could, and Anika always took up for me, because I told her what was going on. I didn’t tell Will and Darcy though, so sometimes they would send me back. But then one day I was at home, in the shower, and… I looked up and there he was, in the bathroom, just… watching me. I asked him to leave, and he wouldn’t. And he took out all the towels. So… I screamed my head off until the neighbors called the police.”
“And they didn’t do shit.”
I shook my head. “They didn’t. But that was my fault. He lied, said it was an accident. That I must’ve forgotten to put away the laundry, and that he didn’t even know I was in there. And my… “mother”… she stood hand in hand while he told that lie, and let it ride. That was when I realized there was no point. He was more important than I was. So… I told the police I was wrong, so they would just go.”
“You were a kid, Jules. What, 15? 16? That’s not on you.”
I shrugged. “It doesn’t matter anyway. Darcy and Will believed me. The only reason Uncle Will didn’t kill him was because Doreen begged him. He kicked his ass though.”
“I feel like that’s not enough,” Troy said, moving to stand in front of me, but not touching me. “And you said he called you today? For what?” he asked, in a tone that made me shake my head.
“Okay, I’m done talking about this, cause now you…”
“Wanna kill this motherfucker? Yeah, I kinda do,” he agreed. “I saw too much shit in foster care for this to not be a sore spot for me. You were a little girl. You shouldn’t have had to deal with that.”
“You’re right, but I’m fine now,” I insisted. “Are the memories ugly? Yes. Does it still hurt to think about? I wish it didn’t, but it does. But I’m fine.”
For several seconds, Troy said nothing, just stared at me. But then his eyebrow went up as he asked, “… Are you though?”
And that… took my breath away.
“Wow…” I whispered. “Uh… I could use a drink, how about you? Remember to leave your shoes at the door please.”
I moved past him to the kitchen, where Anika kept a few bottles stocked. I went straight for the French Vanilla Ciroc and turned around, only to have it pulled from my hand by Troy, who was suddenly right in front of me.
“Jules…” he started, backing me into the counter, and cupping my face in his hand. “I’m sorry this shit happened to you. And I’m glad that you had somebody willing to listen, and protect you. I realize it can’t be easy to talk about, and you… probably still feel some trauma from it all. But mama… listen… if you think I’m about to drink this shit… I’m sorry to disappoint you, but hell nah,” he finished, laughing, offering some desperately-needed levity to a moment of darkness I didn’t want to have, at all.
I sucked my teeth as I took the bottle back from him, and he moved, letting me away from the counter. “Boy please, you don’t know what you’re missing, but I’m about to show you. Get me a can of coke from the fridge.”
“Come on,” he complained, but still moved to get it, while I grabbed glasses and poured a generous serving of the vodka into each glass.
“Top us off,” I told him, leaving him to distribute the soda while I returned the liquor to the cabinet. “And then taste it, so I can see you eat your words.”
He shook his head. “I’on know about all that.”
“Just drink,” I urged, picking up one of the glasses for myself, and tossing the empty soda can into the recycling bin under the sink. “Give it a chance.”
“I have a fundamental issue with “cutesy” flavored liquors.”
“Nobody asked you all that, barber man. Just try it.”
He sighed. “Fine.” While I watched, he put the glass to his lips for a sip, then made an exaggerated face like it was nasty. “It’s aiight,” he admitted, reluctantly, then took a longer sip while I raised my glass for my own first drink. We stayed like that for a few minutes, silently sipping until I finally spoke up again.
“Come see my room.”
I said that and then just started walking, giving him no room to argue about it. Instead of turning on the main light, I flipped my string lights on, filling the room with the warm glow of the tiny bulbs.
“Wow. I… could not imagine a room that was more you,” he chuckled, then took the last sip from his glass. I took it from him as I finished mine, then left both glasses on the desk.
“What does that mean?” I asked, getting right in front of him. I glanced down to see that he’d heeded my request of leaving his shoes at the door, and something about having him in my room, in his socks, made me grin as I looked up. “You some kinda expert on me or something?”
He smirked. “No expert, no. But I know enough.”
“Do you know why I wanted you in here?”
“To keep you from being alone with your thoughts.”
I grabbed the flesh of my bottom lip between my teeth, gnawing at it for a second before I nodded. “Yes. But… more than that, too.”
“I know.”
His answer brought my gaze to his, forcing me to stare him in the eyes.
“What’s the “but”?” I asked, when I finally looked away.
“What do you mean?”
“The but,” I repeated. “You know what I want… but…?”
“I didn’t say I knew what you wanted Jules, I was saying that I knew there was more.”
“Okay so I want you to kiss me,” I snapped, rolling my eyes at him pretending that was something he didn’t already know. He had to know. “So now tell me why you won’t. Still in rehab? Freaked out by my story? Just don’t like me like that? What, Troy? What is it?”
He shook his head. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”
“We have been around each other, time after time, alone. I’m not imagining the attraction, or the chemistry, or the fact that you like me. But you… you always hold back. You always stop yourself, and I don’t understand why!”
Troy scoffed. “I thought we had an agreement where that was concerned. Did we not?”
“Yeah, well, I changed my mind. You made me change my mind. I like you. I want you. Right now. And there’s no point in any of this, if that feeling isn’t reciprocated so—”
Whatever other reckless thing was about to spill from my lips got snatched away by the suddenness of Troy’s touch. One hand loosely fisted in my hair, the other at my waist as he pulled me into him, and locked onto me with a gaze that sent a shiver up my spine.
“Do not put words in my mouth,” he repeated, and then his mouth was on mine. There wasn’t room for me to think about – there was barely room to breathe. So I focused on much more important things, like pushing up on my toes to get closer, gripping fistfuls of his tee shirt to keep me there, and kissing him back like my life depended on it.
Still though, it wasn’t… frantic. Or at least, not for him like it was for me, and he wouldn’t let me take over – he held the lead, forcing me to slow down and savor it. The warm possessiveness of his hands at my waist and in my hair, the smoky vanilla of the drinks, and just… his energy. Strong. Steady. Safe.
He pulled back from the kiss to look at me, holding a smile in his eyes as he did. The hand that had been in my hair came forward, enough for his thumb to brush my bottom lip before he leaned in again, for another kiss.
Soft. Sweet.
And then another one.
And another.
And then we were on my bed – him sitting at the edge of the bed with me on his lap, straddling his legs. We were pressed so closely that I could feel his hardness growing against me, reminding me of the time before.
Reminding me that we were not supposed to be doing this again.
In this position, my face was higher than his, so when I pulled back from the kiss, I had to look down to meet his eyes. Eyes that said he wanted me as badly as I wanted him.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, pulling my hands from his shoulders to bring them together, and then to his lips, where he kissed my fingers.
I closed my eyes, taking a second before I answered. “I’m being selfish. Your hoe rehab was important to you, and I’m… being a bad influence because I’m looking for a release. This feels right, but… it doesn’t feel right.”
Troy nodded. “Okay. So… I wanted to eliminate casual sex from my life. It wasn’t how I wanted to operate anymore.”
“Right.”
He covered my hands with his, holding them between us as he peered up at me. “Jules… are you telling me this feels “casual” to you?”
No…
But of course, I didn’t give him the straight up answer, like I would for probably any other question. I punked out, turning my head to look away until he grabbed my chin, turning me back.
“I don’t know what you’re trying to suggest here,” I started, only for him to interrupt by shaking his head.
“I’m not suggesting anything. I’m telling you that I like you too. That I want you too, right now. And I’m not sure why me reciprocating what you expressed not even ten minutes ago would be a problem. Have you changed your mind since then?”
“No.”
His eyebrows went up. “Then… what’s up?” he asked, laying back into my pillows, hands propped behind his head, which pissed me off. How dare he be so casually sexy, so laid back, so… intuitive enough to know that this wasn’t really about my concern for his “hoe rehab”. It was about me being faced with exactly what I’d told Josiah I wanted, and not knowing what it actually meant.
Since when has that ever stopped you?
I pushed forward, onto my hands and knees, crawling the few inches it took to put my face back in line with his. Troy met my gaze with a smirk, and was about to tease me, undoubtedly, but I took away his chance by pressing my lips against his.
And then we were on again.
Because I wanted this, and I wanted him, and everything else could matter a different time.
I let myself get lost in the perfection of Troy’s lips, in the tickle of his beard against my chin, and then my neck once he flipped us over, trailing kisses along my jawline. I squirmed underneath him as his tongue, then lips, touched exactly the right place on my neck to guarantee a flood between my legs. Pushing him back, I sat up halfway to snatch off my shirt, giving him free access to where I hoped his attention would go next.
I was delightfully correct.
I relaxed into my comforter, lip between my teeth, eyes half open, in near-bliss as he lavished attention over my breasts, teasing me with little bites and kisses through the soft lace of my bra. My position on the pillows left me slightly elevated, with a perfect vantage point of his clear reverence after he’d slipped his hands underneath me, unhooking my bra to slip it off.
The sensation made me want to close my eyes, but I couldn’t, too caught up in the visual of my nipples disappearing into his mouth just before the real pleasure came, when his teeth sank down. Troy was so beautiful that the shit was like must-see-TV, watching as his nimble fingers moved up to tweak the nipple that wasn’t in his mouth, pinching and pulling for a flawless mix of pleasure and pain.
Those lips of his were A-list stars, plump and perfect as they pressed to my skin, making a path from my breasts, down my stomach. My breath caught in my throat as he moved past my belly button, chest heaved in anticipation as he hooked his fingers in the sides of my cute little athleisure sweats and pulled them down, taking my panties with them.
His lips never left my skin as he maneuvered them all the way off and tossed them away, leaving me completely nude in front of him. My mouth stayed open, catching shallow breaths – the only kind I could manage when he was looking me right in the eyes as he moved off the bed, onto his knees on the floor. He wrapped his arms around my thighs, pulling me open, and closer to him as he leaned in, still staring, with a smirk that made my heart race.
When he put his mouth on me, I damn near arched off the bed.
But I wasn’t going anywhere, not with his arms locked tight around my thighs, keeping me in place, and his thumbs spreading me open so he didn’t miss a spot. Reflexively, my hand went into the thick coils of his hair, gripping harder than I probably should because I couldn’t decide between pulling him closer or pushing him away to get relief from the onslaught of pleasure.
My mouth was still open when I propped myself up on my elbows and let my head fall back. I gave him his flowers for this performance in the form of his name on my lips, over, and over as he devoured me like a thirsty man trying not to miss a single drop. And then the orgasm that had been building hit me like the crack of a whip, and I screamed his praises, because I couldn’t help it.
I finally closed my eyes, savoring the wrung-out, post-orgasm feeling until I felt Troy on top of me, holding my face in his hands. I opened my eyes, thinking he had something to say, but he kissed me again instead – a slow, deep kiss that felt like he needed to do it, and hell, me too, because he tasted good and he felt good, and there was no part of me that wanted to stop.
“Jules…,” he groaned against my lips as his hands moved down to my ass, cupping and squeezing as he pulled my body upward against him, even though we were already flush. “Please tell me you have protection.”
Goddamnit.
“I was hoping you might have that covered,” I told him. “None in your wallet?”
He closed his eyes, pushing out a sigh as he shook his head. “Nah. I stopped carrying them because in the beginning, it helped me… keep my dick to myself.”
I cursed under my breath. “I don’t want to not do this. I need this.”
“I don’t want to not do this either,” he declared, looking at me like I was crazy.
“Okay so… are we?”
“If you’re good, I’m good.”
“I’m good.”
There was silence between us for a few seconds, and then… a scramble to get him as naked as I was, and then a deep, shared moan of satisfaction as he sank into me. And then toe-curling bliss as he began to move, in slow, all-encompassing strokes that had me digging my nails into his back.
He brought his lips back to mine, kissing me damn near as deep as he was stroking me, getting me caught up all over again. As we went through different tempos, different rhythms, different angles, my legs moved from around his waist, to the bend of his arms, to hooked over his shoulders as drove into me, hitting every inch of me. I was right on the verge of another implosion when he lowered himself on top of me again, putting us chest to chest as he rocked his hips into mine, and I rocked my hips into his.
“Troy,” I whispered, with what little breath I could come up with. “You… gotta… pull… out,” I reminded him, and was met with a look so skeptical that I laughed.
“Shit,” he laughed too, shaking his head. “I feel like you’re asking for the impossible.” He met my eyes again, moving in for another kiss. “You feel… incredible,” he said, letting my legs down so he could press in even closer, wrapping his arms around me.
“Mmmm, so do you,” I murmured back, hooking my legs around his, in my own attempt to get closer.
That little move put just the friction I needed against my clit to make me combust, and the throbbing contractions of my orgasm brought Troy with me, with a deep stroke that knocked the breath from my lungs.
He collapsed on top of me, still inside me, the pleasant weight of his body feeling like a lullaby to my tired brain.
I gave into it.
Closed my eyes, and didn’t open them again until the sound of my phone ringing jolted me from my sleep. Troy was still on top of me, his soft snores punctuating the silence between the chimes of my phone.
I grabbed it from the bedside table, eyes bugging wide when I saw that it was Anika.
“Hello?” I answered, trying to gently nudge Troy awake.
“Jules! Hey boo! You hungry?” she asked, way too perky for… damn near two in the morning, according to my clock.
“No, I’m good,” I told her, shoving at Troy now to get him awake. “Why, what’s up?”
“I’m leaving work in like fifteen minutes, and I’m starving. I’m gonna grab some food before I come home, just wanted to see if you wanted something too.”
“No, but thank you. “ I rolled my eyes at the feeling of Troy’s hard dick pressing into my stomach. He may have still been asleep, but it was not. “I’ll see you in a little bit.”
“Okay cousin! Bye!”
As soon as I dropped the phone back to the table, Troy’s lips were on my neck again. Even though I was feeling anxious about Anika being on the way home, I couldn’t help giggling as he teased me with his tongue.
“Hey,” I managed, trying not to give in to the clear signs he was ready to go at it again. “You gotta go. I don’t want to answer questions from Anika yet.”
He groaned into my neck, then looked up, meeting my eyes, and nodding. “Okay. I can leave. But before I go, let me just—”
I let out a shout of laughter that quickly developed into a moan as he pushed into me again, feeling just as good as he had a few hours ago. He sat up on his knees, holding one of my legs open with one hand, pushing into me at an angle that felt like goddamn.
“Oh, shit,” I yelped, grabbing onto my breasts for something to hold as he pressed his thumb to my clit, circling it as he stroked me deep, and fast, and… perfectly.
He had me coming again in no time, and then it was his turn. This time, that pull out actually happened, and then I was rushing him to the bathroom on wobbly legs, helping him gather his things, and then showing him to the door.
I couldn’t even begin to describe the feeling that coursed through me when he pulled me right up against him before he left, pressing a kiss to my lips that damn near made me want to drag him back inside – Anika’s nosy ass be damned.
But I wasn’t ready for that, and I knew it. So while I may have been a little reckless earlier – as “clean” as I assumed Troy to be, I knew better than what we’d done… twice – I told myself that it was time to be a big girl again, and send him on.
There sure was a big ass smile on my face when I locked the door behind him though.