140. Kendra
Kendra
Papi: Can you find an excuse to be out for the night?
Papi: I need you here.
Papi: I need you to stay over.
My core throbs at his question, still sore from last night.
And I wish I could go over there now. Wish I could be the one climbing into his bed, falling asleep under his covers. But there’s no way for me to do that without my dad asking a thousand questions.
And I’m not ready to tell him.
Not yet.
Me: Friday.
The mattress shifts.
I blink my eyes open. “Luther?”
“Hush, Baby.” He pulls me to him.
“I said I’d come over Friday.” I nuzzle against his chest.
“I know what you said. And I’ll wait to fuck you until then, but I never said I wasn’t coming over.” He pulls the blankets up over us, then smooths a hand over my hair. “Go to sleep.”
I wake up alone.
And I wonder if I dreamed him.
If it was all in my head.
But then I see it.
Sitting on my nightstand. Wrapped in clear plastic.
A brownie.