CHAPTER 15
Terra’s POV:
Deadass, I tried. I really, truly did. I sat there on the edge of Malik’s mattress in his cramped-ass apartment in Bed-Stuy, looking at the scuffs on my sneakers and wondering how the hell my life had gotten so completely derailed in the span of a few days.
The room smelled like his blunt smoke, cheap cologne, and the heavy, humid heat of a summer night in Brooklyn, but honestly, it felt like an absolute graveyard to me.
We had just finished doing it. I had gone over to his crib today because my mind was spinning out of control, and I needed to know if the "hit-factor" was still there.
I needed to see if I could still feel that spark, that raw, biological pull that used to make me lose my mind whenever Malik touched me.
He was a good dude, handsome, built, and he knew exactly what he was doing in the bedroom.
But while he was on top of me, putting in work, I felt absolutely nothing.
It was the most hollow, empty sensation I had ever experienced in my twenty-two years on this earth.
I was just laying there under him, staring up at the water stains on his ceiling tiles, going through the damn motions while my body just simulated the waves.
My skin felt numb. His hands on my hips felt like heavy plastic.
Every single thrust just echoed inside me like an empty hallway because my mind, my soul, and every single nerve ending in my body was still trapped back in our apartment, tangled up in the memory of Miley Palmer.
Ever since that night Miley and I crossed the line—ever since we broke the golden rule of our long-lasting friendship and slept together—there was no going back.
It was like I had been blind my whole life and suddenly someone turned the lights on, and now Malik’s touch just felt like a cheap imitation of the real thing.
Malik wasn't stupid either. He’s a street-smart Brooklyn boy, and he could tell my spirit wasn't in the room.
Right in the middle of it, his rhythm slowed down, his breathing ragged, and he stopped.
He rolled over onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow, his dark eyes burning into the side of my face as the sweat glistened on his chest.
"Yo, Terra... what the fuck is really up with you today?" Malik asked, his voice rough, heavy with irritation and a sudden, creeping hurt he was trying to hide. "You’ve been dead-fish the whole time, man. Your mind is somewhere else completely. Talk to me, what’s going on?"
I didn't hold back. I was too tired for the games, too exhausted from pretending. I sat up, pulling his faded gray top sheet up over my chest, and looked him dead in his eyes.
"Malik, we need to cut things off. Right now," I told him, my voice completely flat, devoid of any hesitation.
"What you mean cut things off? Just like that?" He frowned, sitting up completely, his knuckles cracking. "Because you having a bad day?"
"No, Malik. It’s over," I said, the truth tearing through my throat like broken glass. "I can't do this with you anymore. I slept with Miley."
The room went dead silent, the only sound being the loud hum of his cheap window AC unit. Malik blinked, his jaw dropping slightly as the words processed through his head. "Miley? Your fucking roommate? Miley, the intern?"
"Yes, Miley," I said, looking him straight in the eyes. "And I’m deadass serious, Malik. There is no way in hell I can go back to messing with dicks after having her clit. I’m sorry, but it’s the truth.
Having you inside me just now... it felt so hollow.
I felt completely empty. I can't live a lie, and I can't keep using you to try and forget what she feels like. "
Malik’s face turned an aggressive shade of dark red, the veins in his neck bulging out as his pride took a massive, fatal blow. He stood up from the bed, grabbing his boxers, and started pacing the floor, cussing me out with every single foul, disrespectful word in the book.
"You a straight-up profile bitch, Terra!
You crazy! You and that industry-chasing roommate of yours are completely unhinged!
" he shouted, waving his arms around, his voice booming through the thin walls of his building.
"Get the fuck out my crib! Don't ever call my phone again!
You left me for a female? You trash, real talk! "
I didn't even argue. I didn't get mad, and I didn't yell back, because I picked up on the energy in the room and I knew he was just deeply, terribly hurt.
His masculine pride was shattered, and cussing me out was the only defense mechanism he had left.
I calmly got up, grabbed my clothes from the floor, and got dressed while he kept ranting.
I threw my bag over my shoulder, walked out of his bedroom without saying another word, and left his apartment building behind.
When I got back to the crib we shared, the apartment was completely dark and quiet.
I took a long, boiling hot shower, trying to scrub the remnants of Malik’s touch off my skin, cooked myself a small plate of food that I barely even tasted, and went straight to bed, burying myself under the covers as the heavy weight of my unrequited love for my best friend suffocated me into a deep, dreamless sleep.
***
Click.
The sharp, distinct sound of a key turning in the front door deadbolt pulled me right out of my sleep. My eyes snapped open in the pitch black of my bedroom. I sat up quickly, the sheets rustling against my skin, my heart instantly doing a double-take against my ribs.
I looked at the glowing blue numbers on my alarm clock. 11:25 PM.
Miley was just getting home.
A sudden, hot rush of resentment and curiosity flared up in my chest. She had been out at some fancy-ass dinner with her corporate handlers from E-Tech, leaving me here to drown in my own thoughts after I had literally dismantled my entire relationship for her.
I slid out of bed, my bare feet hitting the cool hardwood floor, and walked over to my bedroom door.
I cracked it open just a tiny bit, thrusting my head out into the shadows of the hallway to see what the hell was going on.
The small lamp in the living room cast a faint, amber glow across the entryway. There stood Miley Palmer.
She was wearing this chocolate-brown, rib-knit maxi dress that hugged every single curve of her body like a glove, but she looked completely disheveled.
Her long box braids were slightly messy, her shoulders were slumped, and she was literally holding her two designer heels in her right hand, tiptoeing across the linoleum floor like a thief in the night, trying her absolute best not to make a single sound.
"So that’s how it is now? You’re sneaking into your own room like some damn teen?" I asked, my loud, sharp voice cutting through the dead silence of the apartment, completely alerting her.
Miley spun around so fast she almost dropped her shoes, her eyes wide with shock before she realized it was just me. She let out a massive, ragged sigh, dropping her chin to her chest as her shoulders sagged even further.
"Please... don't start tonight, Terra," Miley whispered, her voice sounding completely spent, heavy with a weariness that made her look like she had just survived a five-car pileup instead of a corporate dinner.
Her eyes were dark, tired, and completely drained of that usual Harlem swagger she carried around.
Deadass, it looked like her little night out had been absolute hell.
I pushed my bedroom door wide open, stepping out into the hallway with my arms crossed over my tank top. "We need to talk, Miley. Right now."
Miley closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the wall for a brief second. "Can it please just wait until the morning, Terra? I’m pretty beat. My brain is literally fried right now."
"No, it cannot wait. We need to talk now," I told her, my tone dropping into that serious, unyielding hood register that let her know I wasn't playing any games. I had just thrown my whole life away for the memory of her; she was going to give me an hour of her time.
Miley looked at me for a long moment, seeing the determination in my face, and realized she wasn't going to win this battle.
"Okay... twenty minutes," she muttered, walking over to the living room sectional and plopped her heavy body down into the cushions, tossing her heels onto the floor with a dull thud.
I walked over, my heart hammering against my ribs, and sat down on the couch not far from her.
The proximity between us instantly made the air feel thick and electric, the memory of our bodies tangled up on this exact furniture just weeks ago rushing back into my mind.
I took a deep breath to steady my voice.
"I broke up with Malik today," I revealed flatly, watching her face closely for any reaction.
Miley’s head snapped up, her tired eyes locking onto mine, a sudden look of guilt and panic flashing across her features. "Don't tell me... is it because of me, Terra?"
"Yes, Miley. It is completely because of you," I said, leaning forward, my voice shaking with the raw, heartfelt emotion I had been keeping locked up in my chest for days. "There’s absolutely no way in hell I can go back to dicks after having your clit, Miley. I’m dead-ass serious about that.
I tried today. I went over to his crib, we did it, and I felt so incredibly hollow and empty having him inside me.
It was as if I wasn't even there, like I was just going through the waves of some automated machine.
I felt absolutely nothing, Miley. My body was numb. "