Chapter 15
It was one in the morning, hours after our little text message fight—if you could call it that—and I was eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I was standing in my kitchen, my phone lying dormant on the counter, my mind too active to even think about going to bed.
Nothing was really bothering me. I mean, Ishmia’s little statement was kind of irritating but nothing to keep me awake. It was just the usual shit, the questions that had gradually grown louder and louder since my mom’s death—who am I?
Whose am I?
I hated the mystery of me, and I hated that I hated it. Why couldn’t I just be grateful for the life I was allowed to live, for the gift of a beautiful, caring mother? Why, despite all she did for me, did I still feel like something was missing? Did all adopted kids have this issue? Hell, did I need to go find a fucking therapist or something?
Probably so.
But would I?
Probably not.
The knock was loud, forceful, and scared the shit out of me, making me choke on the piece of sandwich I was chewing. So my, “Hold up!” sounded strangled. Once I made it to the door, coughing the whole way, I checked the peephole and frowned.
“The fuck?” I muttered as I unlocked and opened the door to a woman I’d become very familiar with—Feather.
Wordlessly, she moved to the right, revealing her much smaller boss in a black tracksuit, a scarf covering her head and sunglasses covering her eyes.
“Can I come in?” Ishmia asked.
I stood frozen for a moment, but since I’d be lying if I said the sight of her didn’t arouse every cell in my body, I nodded. Moments later, we were standing in my living room staring at each other with her security remaining outside my front door. I was itching to touch her, to feel her, but she seemed determined to get something off her mind.
When she finally spoke, she said, “I can’t stay long. I have to get back to L.A.”
“Okay…what’s up? What brings you to St. Louis this time of night?” I inquired.
“You, of course,” she supplied.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I replied, “Is that right?”
“Yes. I wanted to apologize. We’re friends?—”
“Who fuck,” I finished for her.
“Yes, we’re friends who fuck. I had no right to question who you may or may not fuck when we’re apart.”
“Technically, you didn’t question that. Sounded to me like you assumed I just be ‘round here fucking anybody. Is it bad for me to only want to fuck you?”
“N-no. I…” she stammered. “I’m terrible at this.”
“You’re terrible at what? Fuckships? You know…friendships that include fucking?”
She removed her shades, and I almost fell to my knees. She was just so beautiful to me. Like, damn!
“Yes, that! I…uh, I don’t like the idea of you fucking someone else,” she loudly admitted. “But I can’t ask you for exclusivity or a relationship.”
“Why can’t you?” I was trying to play it cool, and I didn’t know why. I should’ve just told her I didn’t like the thought of her fucking someone else, either.
“B-because we barely know each other!” she shrieked.
There was a thump against my door, followed by Feather’s heavy-ass voice saying, “Everything good in there, Don?”
Her security stayed on their Zoom.
“Yes!” she called back.
“We know enough,” I stated.
“But my world, my life. It’s a lot,” she explained.
“So is mine. I ain’t exactly unknown, Ishmia. I ain’t you, but I also ain’t anonymous.”
“So…you want a relationship? I thought you said you have a history of moving too fast.”
“I do.”
“You also said you were trying to stop doing that.”
“I was. Didn’t work out. Also, I think I was lying.”
“You think?”
“Yeah.”
“Orlando—”
“The question is, do you want a relationship with me, friend?”
“I want you to only be with me and I only want to be with you. So yeah, I guess so. I just don’t want to mess up your life.”
I moved closer to her, invading her personal space. “You won’t.”
She gazed up at me, her eyes dancing, her brow wrinkled. “Okay.”
“Good. Now, give me a kiss.”
Giggling, she gently pressed her lips to mine. “I gotta go,” she whispered against my mouth.
“A’ight. Call me.”
“I will.”