8. Sha’nelle Harper #2
“I love you too.”
I grabbed my purse, climbed out the truck, and watched her pull away before I turned toward the hotel entrance.
By the time I unlocked the room door and stepped in, the TV was still on, and Couture was layin’ in the bed with his back turned toward the door. He never rolled over, asked where I had been or said my name.
I quietly sat my purse down, took a quick shower, put on a pair of sweatpants and one of my oversized T-shirts, then climbed in bed next to him.
Normally, I would’ve wrapped my arm around him or scooted close enough to feel his body against mine. Right now, I couldn’t do it, so I stayed on my side of the bed while he stayed on his.
The only sound in the room was the TV and him breathin’.
I ain’t know if he was sleep or pretendin’ to be. But somewhere deep inside, I couldn’t shake the feelin’ that he knew somethin’ between us had changed. Maybe he couldn’t name or prove the shit.
At the same damn time, I knew love had a way of noticin’ the smallest changes, and for the first time since I landed in Trill-Land, I admitted somethin’ to myself that I couldn’t keep runnin’ from anymore…
I couldn’t keep livin’ between two niggas forever. Sooner or later, one decision was gon’ break somebody’s heart, and if I waited too long to make it, I was afraid I was gon’ break all three of ours.
I had only got about two hours of sleep and was already up, movin’ around the hotel room with my mind still all over the place.
The room was quiet except for the bathroom sink runnin’ while Couture brushed his teeth.
I had already folded the last few pieces of clothes and shoved them in my suitcase, but I kept glancin’ toward the bathroom ‘cause somethin’ about Couture felt off.
He usually moved different with me in the mornin’. Even if he was tired or half sleep, he would still come kiss my forehead, pull me against him for a minute, or ask if I needed somethin’ before he started gettin’ himself together.
This mornin’, he ain’t do none of that shit…
He moved past me without touchin’ me, opened bags without sayin’ nothin’, and kept his attention on everything except me. Every time I looked his way, he either had his back turned or his eyes somewhere else, and the silence between us started botherin’ me more the longer it went on.
The fucked-up part was, I already knew why it was botherin’ me.
Guilt had me studyin’ every move Couture made ‘cause I kept feelin’ like he knew somethin’. I ain’t have no proof that he knew, but after what happened with Renza, my mind was lookin’ for signs everywhere.
Couture could’ve simply been tired, but I kept takin’ his quietness personal ‘cause I knew what I had done while he was layin’ in this same room waitin’ on me.
When he stepped out the bathroom with a towel in his hand and walked past me again, I finally reached for his arm.
“Couture, what’s goin’ on with you?” I asked, turnin’ him back toward me before he could keep walkin’.
He looked down at my hand on his arm, then lifted his eyes to mine. His mouth was tight, and the look on his face made my stomach drop ’cause he looked completely over me.
“What you mean?” he asked, but the way he asked it ain’t sound right.
“You know what I mean. You been movin’ around here like I ain’t even in the room. You ain’t kissed me, asked me nothin’, or said more than two words since you got up.”
Couture tilted his head a lil’ and bit down on his bottom lip like he was tryna hold back everything he really wanted to say. I let go of his arm, but I stayed right in front of him ‘cause I wasn’t about to let him keep movin’ around me without tellin’ me what the hell was wrong.
“You mad ‘cause I came in late?” I asked. “If that’s what this is, then say that.”
He stared at me for a few seconds before lookin’ away, and I ain’t gon’ lie, that shit made my nerves worse.
“You want me to talk?” he finally asked, turnin’ back toward me. “You really want me to tell you what the fuck on my mind?”
The aggression in his voice caught me off guard ‘cause this nigga had never talked to me like this. He wasn’t no pushover, but he ain’t never had to raise his voice or come at me sideways to make his point.
He was usually calm, and even when he got irritated, he knew how to say what he meant without losin’ himself.
The man standin’ in front of me right now looked like somebody I ain’t know.
I took a step back and watched him reach for his phone on the dresser.
“What you doin’?” I asked, but he ain’t answer.
He tapped around on the screen before pullin’ up his voicemail, and when he pressed play, my whole body went cold.
At first, all I heard was muffled sounds and movement. Then my own voice came through the speaker, and my stomach dropped before I even realized what I was hearin’.
Then Renza’s voice came through…
Every word that came out the phone felt like another knife sinkin’ into both of us. My mouth fell open, but nothin’ came out.
I had no idea how the fuck that voicemail got recorded. Maybe I called Couture by mistake. Maybe my phone got pressed against somethin’ and dialed him without me knowin’. None of that mattered now ‘cause every sound from that hotel room was playin’ right in front of both of us.
I looked at Couture, and the hurt on his face made me feel sick. I literally wanted to throw the fuck up.
“Couture… hold up,” I whispered.
“Hold up?” he repeated, laughin’, but it wasn’t the type of laugh that came from a nigga who thought somethin’ was funny. “Nah… don’t fuckin’ tell me to hold up now.”
He held the phone up between us and shook it. “So this what the fuck you was doin’ last night, bitch?”
I couldn’t do nothin’ but stare ‘cause this nigga had really just called me out my name. Yeah, I was wrong but that ain’t stop the shit from hurtin’ like a muthafucka.
“This why you had me come back to the fuckin’ hotel?” he demanded. “This why you told me you forgot somethin’ when we first got here? You ain’t forget a muthafuckin’ thing, huh?”
“Couture…”
“You had me sittin’ in this room all night like a fuckin’ goofy while you was fuckin’ another nigga like a hoe.”
“It ain’t—”
“It ain’t what?” he snapped. “Tell me what the fuck I just listened to then.”
I couldn’t even answer… but his eyes never left mine.
“You had me out here meetin’ yo’ people, smilin’ in everybody fuckin’ face, and you been doin’ this shit to me.”
My chest felt tight ‘cause I knew this was it. It was over… me and Couture was over.
Before I could move, his fist hit me right in the middle of my face, and the force of it sent me back against the dresser.
My legs almost gave out, but he grabbed me before I could fall.
Both his hands closed around my neck, and he shoved me harder against the wall while his face twisted with anger and pain.
“You know how much I love you, hoe?” he asked, his voice breakin’ while his fingers tightened around my throat. “You know how much trust a nigga put in yo’ sorry ass just for you to bring me out here and fuck another nigga?”
I tried to say his name, but nothin’ came out. My hands went to his wrists, and I pulled as hard as I could, but his grip kept gettin’ tighter.
“C… Cou…” I tried to get it out, but I couldn’t.
“I’on play about this shit,” he told me while I struggled against his grip. “I gave you everything, and this how the fuck you do me? This how you embarrass me? This how you repay everything I put into you?”
The room started goin’ dark around the edges. I could still hear him, but his voice sounded further away with every second that passed. My arms got weak, my body started slidin’ down the wall, and the last thing I saw was the look in Couture’s eyes before everything disappeared.
When I opened my eyes again, I shot up so fast that the whole room spun around me.
My hand went straight to my neck while I tried to breathe, and it took me a few seconds to realize nobody was touchin’ me. Couture wasn’t standin’ over me. I wasn’t against the dresser, and my face wasn’t hurt.
I was still in the hotel bed…
Couture’s alarm was goin’ off on the nightstand, and he was layin’ beside me with one arm over his face while he reached around for his phone.
My chest was movin’ so fast that I felt like I had been runnin’. I rubbed my neck and looked around the room, tryna convince myself that none of that shit had really happened.
Couture finally cut off the alarm and turned toward me. The second he saw my face, his brows pulled together.
“You good, baby?” he asked, pushin’ himself up on one elbow while he looked me over.
I blinked a few times and forced myself to nod even though my body was still reactin’ to that crazy ass dream like it was real.
“Yeah, I’m good.”
“You sure baby?” he asked, reachin’ over and rubbin’ his hand across the same damn cheek he hit me in, in my dream.”
“I’m sure,” I told him, and this time my voice sounded a lil’ more normal.
Couture watched me for another second before layin’ back down. I could tell he ain’t completely believe me, but he also wasn’t about to press me this early in the mornin’.
“You have fun last night?” he asked after a minute.
The question hit me harder than it should’ve, but I kept my face straight.
“Yeah…I did. I’m sorry I stayed out so late, though. It was my last night here, and me and Toni ended up drinkin’ more than we planned. Then we stopped by an after-hours spot before we called it a night.”
He nodded slowly while rubbin’ his face.
“It’s cool, baby. Do you. I know you missed us people. I figured you was enjoyin’ ya cousin, and I ain’t wanna keep callin’ and actin’ like I was rushin’ you.”
“I should’ve checked in more,” I told him. “That was on me. I’m sorry for real.”
“Long as you made it back straight, we good, baby.”
He glanced at me, then grinned a lil’. “When we move in together, though, we both gon’ have curfews. Ain’t no comin’ in after the sun damn near up.”
I forced a laugh ‘cause he said it like a joke, but I could hear the part of him that was serious too.
“Both of us?” I asked. “You gon’ give yourself a curfew too?”