3. Everly
Tate kept me close to him as he gently rubbed the lathered towel over my body. I was grateful that the things he was saying didn’t need answers. I couldn’t believe what had just happened. Sex… twice. I didn’t regret it, but I couldn’t deny that it was a major event in my short life. Tate had been gentle enough, and I was grateful. Women talked, and at least I didn’t have the nightmare stories some did of their first times.
He wanted me to stay. Tempted me with kisses. Promised me breakfast in bed and a birthday shopping spree in one of the state’s larger cities. I didn’t know why, but I just wanted my little apartment and my bed. I needed to process it all or something. So, after a little cuddling and the long shower, I re-dressed and pulled my backpack on as he opened the bedroom door. We’d just made it into the living room when the front door opened, and a couple of giggling, obviously tipsy women spilled in.
“Fuck,” Tate grumbled behind me.
One of them quickly typed on the alarm’s number pad then two pairs of eyes shifted to us. For a moment, they were silent. And then, the laughter started again, this time with a malicious edge. I recognized one of them—campus beauty queen and mean girl, Phaedra Bellamy.
“Damn, Tate, you fucking whales now?” she taunted as her equally beautiful, equally slim companion chuckled.
I stepped forward, ready to defend myself, but Tate pulled me back with a whispered, “Chill, Youngin’.”
I rolled my eyes but bit my tongue for him.
“Shut the fuck up, Phae. Why you in my house?” he growled.
She tossed her artfully weaved barrel curls and glared at him. Waving a key, she sucked her teeth.
“My boyfriend lives here, too, remember? He wanted me to come ahead,” she explained dryly before gesturing toward her friend. “I thought I’d bring you a surprise since y’all won the step show, but since you out here slummin’—"
“You got one more time,” I said, voice low, moving toward her bitch ass again.
This time, Tate wrapped both arms around my waist and carried me toward the door.
“Keep your gifts, Phae. I’m good,” he snarled as he hustled me out the door.
I waited until we were far enough from the doorway to elbow him in the stomach.
“Let me go!” I hissed, all the sweet feelings of earlier evaporating.
He set me down, only to whirl me around.
“The fuck you mad at me for?” he challenged.
“Why this bitch think it’s okay to bring you gifts like that, Tate? Then, you won’t let me punch her in her slick ass mouth. She betta?—"
I stopped mid-rant when I realized he was laughing. Face tight, I mushed his head.
“Ay, stop, girl!” he chuckled, grabbing my arm loosely and trying to pull me into a hug.
“What the hell is funny?” I demanded, trying to fight him off.
“You, yo’ little jealous ass. Don’t nobody want Marcia’s tired ass. Hell, I got my hands full,” he said, finally succeeding in pulling me against his hard body.
“No, Tate! Why she think it’s okay to?—"
He kissed me then, his tongue stroking every inch of my mouth before curling around mine seductively. I felt myself giving in.
“I’on know why that girl thinks anything. All I know is that I love you, Youngin’. You the only gift I want,” he said, voice husky.
His words stole all of the fight from me, melted me like ice under the hot Louisiana sun.
“I love you, too,” I murmured before he kissed me again.
I floated home. Really, there was no other word for it. I didn’t remember driving or parking or climbing the stairs to my place. My mind was solely on Tate and his words. And I guess my face told it all because Theory and Epiphany, who were on my pull-out couch, took one look at me and immediately followed me into my bedroom. Emory was snuggled in my bed, half-asleep but still texting. She glanced up at me, then did a double take.
And then she and Theory were screaming so loud and demanding details so much that I had to smack her with a pillow before my neighbors called the cops.
“Tell us!” Em finally demanded in an urgent whisper.
So, exhausted, excited, elated, I told them.
* * *
“All that time and money to come back with scraps?” I muttered at Emory and Theory as I looked down at myself.
While I had rested and recovered under Pip’s thoughtful eyes, Emory and Theory had driven to Monroe to shop for this party they insisted we attend to wrap up the week. Pip flat-out rejected the skin-tight jeans they’d grabbed for her, pairing the t-shirt they’d picked out with a dreamy little skirt she’d brought with her from Houston.
For me, they’d chosen a spaghetti-strapped, lilac, body-con dress that was almost iridescent in its soft shimmery-ness. I was bigger than my sister and cousins, but our Granny Nette had blessed us all to be shapely. The shapewear Emory had grabbed didn’t hurt, either. It was a pretty dress, but it was a little—a lot—more revealing than I was used to. I tugged on it, almost stumbling in the strappy little shoes they’d brought back.
“It’s your birthday, and this weekend is all about getting out of your comfort zone,” Em fussed, smacking my hands away from the dress’s hem.
For once, Em and Pip agreed on something—the power of deep breathing. We spent a few minutes taking deep breaths and slowly blowing them out. Epiphany encouraged us to center ourselves. Emory encouraged us to tap into our inner bad bitches and prepare to own the room. I guess they couldn’t be too similar.
Emory drove the few minutes to the venue, and we tumbled out of her car, freshening ourselves with last-minute spritzes of perfume and mint candies. I smoothed my dress one last time, kind of ready for Tate to see me in it. He seemed to like my curves, and this piece of material definitely had them on display. Neither of us had mentioned being here tonight, but I knew he’d be strolling around the dance floor with his frat brothers. I rolled my eyes as my impatient ass sister grabbed my hand and tugged me toward the party venue’s front door.
“Bring yo’ ass on!” she said, bossy as ever.
The sounds of Silentó bombarded us as we waited to pay the entry fee. A few minutes later, we were inside. Emory and Theory were swept up by their local Sorors, leaving Pip and me to watch the crowd of partygoers.
“Wanna walk?” I asked, projecting my voice over the loud ass music.
She shrugged. Outside of Emory, Epiphany was my best friend, and I knew this really wasn’t her scene. She just came this week because the rest of us were going to be here, and she wanted to spend time. We were going to have to do something more her speed next time.
We walked the perimeter of the dance floor, taking in the crush of eager college kids looking for one last turn-up before getting ready for the school week. Finals were soon, and they probably wouldn’t come out like this again until graduation time.
Suddenly, I felt Pip’s touch on my arm. I looked back at her, and she inclined her head.
“There go ya boy,” she said.
Following the direction she indicated, my eyes landed on Tate’s tall, slim frame as he led his brothers in a smooth, rolling shimmy. Oh, my God, that move was always so sexy to me, especially when he did it in slow motion like he was now. My panties were instantly wet, and I bit the inside of my jaw to keep from moaning or squealing or something. His declaration of love came back to me, and I couldn’t help smiling.
“Yo’ ass got it bad, Cousin,” Pip teased.
“Shut up,” I fronted, swatting at her.
“I’m just saying, I’on think you gon’ make it to Huddle House to eat with us.”
“Oh, I’m getting those hash browns tonight,” I popped, leaning in so she could hear me.
She grinned. “Girl, the only thing getting scattered, covered, and smothered is you!”
We both laughed then, making our way onto the dance floor as The Weeknd poured from the speakers. We danced for a minute, eventually joined by a couple of guys we knew from our hometown. By the time we left the floor, Emory and Theory were taking a break, too, handing us much-needed mini-bottles of water. I was content to stand on the sidelines, chopping it up with my family and sipping on the cool liquid.
Then, the opening sounds of Jeremih’s “Oui” started. I loved this damn song! I raised my hand, hips already rocking.
“Aww, hell! That’s yo’ shit, huh, Cousin?” Theory hyped me.
“And there go yo’ little yella boyfriend. You betta get this dance!” Emory urged.
My eyes popped up. Tate was a few feet in front of us, talking to some of his friends. My first instinct was to feel nervous, and I twisted my hands together, just looking. But being nervous was not something my girls allowed. They talked their shit until I breathed deeply and walked toward him, their nosy asses on my heels. I tapped him on the shoulder, and he turned around. A smile was already spreading across my face as he turned.
Tate looked at me, but for once, he didn’t return my smile. He looked almost confused. Over his shoulder, I saw Marcia grab his hand.
“Tate, c’mon, let’s dance,” she yelled, pouting.
I waited for him to yank his hand from her, to tell her to go the fuck away.
Instead, he said, “Hold on, baby,” and turned back to me.
I felt my smile slipping, my mind trying to make sense of the words. Had he just called her “baby?” The music must be too loud.
And then his eyes were back on me, still no smile, almost no recognition.
“Hey! You’re… umm…” he pretended to think. “Ebony! Ebony from my chemistry class. It’s good to see you, shorty. Hope you enjoying the party,” he said, finally smiling.
Not the sweet little smile I was used to. No, this was his big, fake, politician grin. I had teased him about it before. I never thought it’d be aimed at me.
Everything inside me crumbled, and tears filled my eyes.
“This clown,” I heard Pip hiss loudly behind me. Her peaceful nature had its limits. “I knew it! I’m finna?—"
“No, we’re not,” Emory said suddenly, linking her arm through mine. She gave a little tinkling laugh. “Hi, Tate! My sister was just going to ask you for Drew’s number for me, but I’ll get it later,” she said before turning and pulling me with her.
Emory was quick on her feet—Drew was Tate’s brother. Somehow, I managed to hold it together for the next few minutes Emory insisted we stay to save face. I kept quiet on the ride home and on the climb up to my apartment. I made it through my shower and skincare routine, into my nightshirt, and beneath my covers before the tears and then the sobs started. Theory and Epiphany sat quietly at my desk as Emory climbed into bed with me and pulled me into her arms.
“C’mon, baby girl, I hate it when you cry,” she whispered through her own sympathetic tears.
“I’m so stupid,” I cried.
“No, you’re not. He is.”
“I gave myself to him, Em. I told him I loved him.”
“And his grimy ass didn’t deserve any of it. Fuck him, Ev. At least you know now, baby.”
I let her comfort me, listened to her soft reassurances and affirmations until the tears stopped and I promised her I was okay. By then, my phone was buzzing nonstop. Emory stood up and grabbed it and suddenly it was silent. She took it in the bathroom as she showered.
My sister was right about one thing.
At least I know now .
But my stupid ass had always known, ever since all those inboxes and various messengers in high school from guys who claimed to want me, but somehow, never managed to show it publicly. Yeah, Tate had taken me out, but it was never on campus. I’d been to his house a few times… at night. I’d never even met his roommate. The realizations came to me then, making me feel worse.
At least I know now .
I lay on my bed and let my heart break quietly. I made myself commit every bit of the overbearing pain and grief to memory. This was what I got for not listening to Epiphany’s doubts. Our whole lives, she’d never been wrong.
At least I know now .
And this time, I wouldn’t forget.I never wanted to experience this kind of heartbreak again. Before my eyes drifted closed from sheer exhaustion, I vowed that no man would ever make me feel this low again.