Chapter 6 #3
“Adding to that,” I continued. “It’s fuckin’ dark outside, I’m tired, and I’ve had a long-ass day.
” I looked at Isis like she was part of the trash on top.
“And this shit right here has made my long-ass day even longer. I also didn’t drive four hours out here just to turn around and do another four. That shit is dead.”
“What about a hotel? Can’t we get a hotel?!” Isis suggested, almost begging.
“Isis…” I pinched the bridge of my nose to control my anger, “There isn’t a hotel around for at least thirty minutes.
And what part of ‘I’m tired, and it’s fuckin’ dark outside’ do you not understand?
Now, if you wanna go, cool. I’ll toss you my hoodie, open the door, point you toward the dark, freezing-ass woods, and wish you and yo’ ankles good luck.
If the wolves don’t get you, the frostbite damn sure will.
And if you do make it out alive, don’t ever hit my line again. ”
Isis’s mouth fell open slightly, like she couldn’t believe I said that out loud… but I meant every word.
Cold. Final. No walk-back.
“So that’s settled,” I stated with finality, cutting through the silence. “We’re staying… but we’ll be outta y’all hair in the morning.” I looked at Chesteria. “That’s cool with you, C Baby?”
I said it on purpose—loud, clear, waiting, watching, testing—to see if she’d correct me like she did ol’ boy… but it didn’t come.
Chesteria’s eyes stretched in size. Shock slapped across her face like a memory just reached up and kissed her.
That’s what I wanted.
A little memory. A little ache. A little “Damn, say that again…”
“It’s cool,” she finally said.
“I guess it’s okay,” Isis sassed under her breath, eyes fixed on Chesteria, silently assessing the level of threat.
Chesteria stared straight through her, probably thinking, I’ve already been where you wish you could go, and you ain’t got the shoes for it.
“What room do you have?” I asked Chesteria, sharp and to the point.
If she had that nigga in our room there wasn’t going to be any calm left in me.
“We’re sleeping downstairs,” she responded, softer that time.
A little relief unclenched in my chest—just a little.
“We’ll take the upstairs,” I let her know. “I’ll be back. I’m ‘bout to grab a few things out of the truck.”
“Wow,” Isis breathed, trailing close behind, hips swinging like she was auditioning for the role of delusional side character. “I can’t believe we ended up at the cabin at the same time as your ex. Like, seriously, what are the odds?”
I didn’t respond. I kept walking through the cold air, like her voice was just wind noise… but that didn’t stop her.
“And she clearly still has feelings for you! Only a woman who would look at me like I’m something stuck to her shoe and keep cutting her eyes like she runs this whole place?
Yeah, she still pressed. All that mouth?
All that energy? There’s no way she’s over you!
You saw how she was acting! That’s not ‘moved on’ behavior; that’s still-thinks-she-got-a-chance behavior or I ‘wish you’d pick me again’ energy! ”
Isis laughed, like she said, had one up on Chesteria—not even close.
“I mean, did you see her face when she saw me? Whew. It was giving bitter and still stuck. Like, girl… you had him and lost him! Get over it!”
I stayed quiet, staring past her, wondering how someone could be so loud and so wrong at the same time. Chesteria wasn’t acting out of love; she was acting out of warning. And the fact that Isis didn’t catch that shit told me everything I needed to know.
When I reached the truck, I popped the trunk open and snatched my duffel out like I wanted to throw hands with it, too.
“So… which room are we taking?” Isis asked, too chipper, rolling her pink-ass luggage like we were on a damn honeymoon. “The master bedroom?”
“Fuck no,” I gritted.
“Oh. Is that room special to y’all?” she asked with a scoff.
“What? Y’all used to write love notes on the headboard?
Do soul ties and backflips in there? Or you got vows written on the pillowcases?
Is it the sacred temple of Chesteria? If so, I’ll make sure to tiptoe past it.
You know… thinking about it, you never told me how long y’all were together or anything.
I think I should know. That lets me know what I’m up against.”
Isis asked that shit like I was really about to vent to her about my ex, mood, or fuckin’ thoughts, for a woman who couldn’t even read a damn room.
I stopped walking and turned my head just enough to let her feel the weight of my anger… and because I was tired of her yapping.
“Chesteria ain’t yo’ competition. Correction… you ain’t hers. But I ain’t yo’ nigga, so neither matters. The only thing you battling is reality… and that shit hittin’ you hard. So none of this lil’ imaginary rivalry even applies. You just talkin’, and she already lived it.”
I paused, then smirked just a little. Since Isis wanted to be nosy and funny, I decided to paint her a clear picture of that room… with my words.
“Oh, and that room?” I tilted my head slightly, voice dropping into that tone that always hit nerves.
“Yeah… it’s special.”
I let that hang before I laid the truth out bare.
“That’s where Chesteria used to sleep in one of my hoodies after we fucked.
Where she’d fall asleep with her leg over me, mouth open, drooling on my chest ‘cause she felt safe. That’s where she moaned my name; where she cried one minute, then came harder the next.
That’s where we argued, made up, and then made the headboard knock ‘til the damn walls told us to chill.”
Isis's lips parted, eyes flicking to the cabin like she suddenly needed to see it for herself. She probably wasn’t even imagining Chesteria getting all that pleasure; maybe she was picturing herself wishing she knew what it felt like to be wanted, held, and memorized like that.
Or what it felt like to get tongue-fucked slow with both of our eyes locked on each other the whole time, and drilled so good that she cried in tongues, and came back to Earth confused on what day it was.
Hell, she probably was mentally writing her own vows on the pillowcases.
Too bad.
That wasn’t her story… and never would be.
“And yeah…” I continued. “I used to write love notes on her body with my tongue… mark places only I knew. We did whole soul ties, backflips, sideways blessings, and shit that probably violated a few spiritual codes. That room got memories and real history; the kind I feel in my bones when I wake up and realize she ain’t next to me no more. ”
Isis stood there, rendered speechless. Her face shifted with envy, shock, and a little heartbreak she tried to blink away.
“Oh, and I didn’t leave her; it was a mutual decision. Now don’t ask me shit else about her or our relationship. Hopefully that answered all your lil’ dumbass wonderings before yo’ mouth get you hurt.”
“Well, what—”
“Isis!” I snapped, and my voice echoed against the trees. “Leave. It. The. Fuck. At. That!”
Isis flinched like she finally heard me for the first time.
“You ever heard the phrase ‘curiosity killed the cat’?” I tilted my head, eyes narrowing just enough to make her rethink everything.
“Keep pushing, and it’s gon’ take yo’ nosy ass out too…
right next to it, under a headstone that say, ‘Here Lies Curiosity. She Asked One Too Many Damn Questions. She Should’ve Minded Her Business.
’ Now, the best thing for you to do is to shut the fuck up for the remainder of the night. ”
Isis fake-giggled, like I didn’t just borderline threaten her entire existence. Then she stepped in front of me, pressing her hand down my chest like her touch had weight there, and as if that would soften me.
“You need to relax,” she smiled, trying to make it flirty. “You’re too damn fine to be walking around all tense and serious. And how can I be quiet the rest of the night if we’re supposed to have… you know… sex tonight?” she whispered in a coquettish voice.
Sex was the furthest thing on my mind; well, with her, anyway. If it were Chesteria in that bed… different story.
Her in my shirt, legs shaking, back arched? Yeah… that I’d make time for. But Isis? Nah.
“That shit ain’t happening,” I shut down flatly and firmly, brushing her hand off me.
Isis stepped back, jaw dropping in disbelief.
“Wait, are you telling me I brought my limited-edition Savage Classy Lace-n-Feathers set for nothing? Do you know how much that cost me?! It was custom ordered… handcrafted, Bryce—handcrafted—with imported satin from France and Swarovski crystals on the straps!”
She kept going, waving her hands like I gave a fuck about fabric origin.
“You have no idea what I went through to—”
“I don’t give a damn if it was stitched together by God and Rihanna herself. You could’ve shown up in gold-plated diamonds and a halo; you still ain’t getting touched.”
Isis finally shut the hell up. Her eyes were wide like she wanted to cry, scream, or both.
“Now… like I said, keep quiet for the rest of the night.” I stepped closer.
“And just so you know, bears are known to roam these woods… real ones… hungry ones. They don’t give a fuck about BBLs, wig glue, mink lashes, or the fact that you just got that lace melted yesterday.
Out here? That ass you paid for just makes you easier to drag. You’re basically wrapped bait.”
I watched her face fall, but I wasn’t done.
“Wolves too… and not the fairy tale kind either, but the kind that track sound, breath, and movement. So keep that mouth of yours shut or pray you fast enough to outrun teeth. And if not?” I shrugged. “They’ll be flossin’ with yo’ hairline before sunrise.”
None of that shit was true; well, some of it.
The part about wolves tracking sound, breath, and movement?
Yeah, that was facts. But Isis was too damn gullible to know the difference between a Discovery Channel documentary and my bullshit, so I fed it to her cold, brutal, and dressed in just enough truth to make her shut the hell up.
She nodded slowly, lips pressed tight now.
“Good,” I said, satisfied, pushing the front door open. “Now get inside. Oh… and keep that Savage Classy whatever-the-fuck in the bag; it might still have the receipt in it.”
This shit right here? Nah.
I didn’t drive four damn hours to walk into another nigga in my space?
Possibly fuckin’ my ex? Ex-fiancée at that.
Hell no. That’s not gonna fly. I’m liable to tell Chesteria I don’t give a damn about a contract, a schedule, or a rotation; hell, this is my shit too.
I will say this: if that nigga steps wrong, breathes wrong, or touches anything that belongs to me tonight—probably Chesteria included—I’m ending the night early… and violently.