Chapter 9 #3
I wasn’t used to people looking at me like that. Lovingly. Tenderly. Completely. In the Woods, the only looks I got were looks of hate from bitches, or ‘I wanna fuck you’ looks from the niggas.
“Like that,” I said before swallowing.
“I’m just lookin,” he said.
I didn’t say anything in return. Reached over for my phone and picked it up. Looking at him, I asked him what First Lady’s favorite song was.
Without hesitation he said, “Why We Sing. Kirk Franklin.”
Instead of immediately hitting the Apple Music app to play it, I studied him a little. His face softened to sadness, and he brushed his hand over the top of his head.
I rubbed my lips together and asked, “Is it okay if I play it?”
“Please.”
I nodded and after a couple of seconds, played the song.
I sat the phone on the vanity and restarted on First Lady’s hair.
Every second or so, I would glance over at Exodus.
He had his head tossed against the back of the chair, eyes closed, arms crossed over his chest. It was clear that the music took him back in time.
Hopefully it did the same for First Lady.
I know it did for me. I stood there, tears in my eyes, listening to a song that was my momma’s favorite too.
His eye is on the sparrow… that’s the reason why we sing.
About thirty minutes later, First Lady was out for the count, and Exodus and I were in the living room, on the couch, talking the way we were last night over the phone.
However, this was much better. He was close.
So close that his arm brushed up against mine.
I was so comfortable that I was tempted to toss my leg across his lap.
But… I played it cool, kicking my feet up on the couch, under my bottom, instead.
“Nah, facts tho. I feel you. You’ll adjust eventually. It’s just gon’ take you a minute. Shit, it took me a minute. Honestly, I still have nights where the quiet is unsettling. Coming from where I came from… yeah… I understand for sure.”
We were talking about how uneasy it’s been for me sleeping here, when it should have been peaceful.
I asked him if he thought it was normal, after explaining everything and he told me it was.
There was something about hearing ‘that makes sense’ from him that gave me comfort.
He did the same thing when I told him about feeling away about how I felt more for Meech than my mother.
I didn’t talk much to people. Wasn’t vulnerable and kept a lot bottled up, so I carried things with me thinking stuff was weird or whatever.
But coming out, telling him what was going on gave me so much relief because when he said it was okay, I actually believed him.
His face didn’t contour to a judgmental look or anything. It was genuine.
I exhaled, swallowing after, that relief filling me.
“Thank you,” I whispered, fiddling with tassels on one of the couch pillows, eyes on it. Turquoise. Small. Perfect for my lap. I needed it. Exodus made me anxious.
From the corner of my eye, I noticed him tilt his head to the side. “For what?”
I glanced over at him. “For making me feel… I don’t know… understood. I thought it was weird. Like… I’m out here in a nice ass neighborhood, in a big ass house but I’m uncomfortable because I need gunshots and arguing to rock me to sleep.”
“You just gotta find something else to rock you to sleep.”
“I do?” I looked over at him.
“You do.”
We locked eyes for a second before I looked back at the pillow. With a deep breath I sat back against the couch and shifted my attention to the ceiling. It was so high. I couldn’t get over it. Meech wouldn’t be able to touch this one. But then again…
“I got you. Whenever you need it,” Exodus said, stopping me before I could drift into sadness over my big brother.
Sucking my teeth, I nudged him in the side. “Shut up.”
He laughed. “Why I gotta shut up?”
Exodus had this disposition about him. Sometimes he said things seriously, sometimes he had this jokey undertone.
A second ago, that undertone wasn’t there but…
I took it as a joke anyway. I had to. I couldn’t take him seriously because if I did, I probably would have melted where I sat.
Even with pretending to take it as a joke, I melted.
A little. There were tingles in my toes.
A tingle that traveled up the calves of my legs. A slow creep that made my heart race.
I swallowed, looked away and fiddled with my crystal, a nervous damn wreck. Especially since his eyes were on me. His eyes on me was… geez. Made a hood bitch like me say corny words like geez.
“You just do,” I said, realizing he was actually waiting on me to say something.
He didn’t say anything. He leaned his head back against the couch and continued to watch me, while I looked everywhere but at him.
What the fuck was he doing? That tingling?
The tingle that did the slow creep? Baby, it rushed through me.
Traveled up to my face, forcing me to smile.
A deep dimpled smile. A blush I hid by turning away and putting my arm up. Who in the hell was I?
“Stop looking at me bro,” I said through a giggle I hated.
A bitch was turning into mush. Melting right before his eyes and something inside me told me he enjoyed it. He enjoyed it so much that when I glanced at him, I caught a soft smile. Was he blushing too?
“What’s wrong wit’ me looking at you, ‘bro’? Masculine ass.” He grunted. “I’mma soften yo tough ass right on up, baby. I can’t wait.”
I sucked my teeth. “What the hell you talkin’ about?”
“You heard me,” he said before flicking my chin. “Baby.”
I squirmed and shoved him. “Stop callin me that shit,” I bashfully said, steady shying away.
I was seconds away from jumping up from the couch to run to my room. I took in a deep breath and brushed my hand over my forehead.
“I can’t do shit. I don’t know why not when everything I’ve done in the past couple minutes ain’t did shit but make you smile.” He paused. “I can’t make you smile, Angel? Hm?”
The flirting was out of control, wasn’t it? I was falling harder for Exodus by the second. How in the hell did we even get here? We were talking about me and my damn trauma. How we ended up here was crazy. Me with a racing heart. Goosebumps, and tingles shooting through my nerves like never before.
I looked at him.
Turned my head and caught his eye. His left mine and traveled down my face, landing on my lips.
I swallowed and watched as he inched in a little.
Did I back away? Hell no. I didn’t move.
Couldn’t. Was cemented by nerves. Stuck by…
desire. Desire I couldn’t escape. Desire that only built when his buttery, soft lips touched mine.
I exhaled.
He did too. As if we’d both wanted to do that for ages.
Which was insane, considering we’d only really known each other for a couple of weeks. Four. That was how long it’d been since Meech died. I met him then. What an anniversary…. Right?
His hand found the back of my neck.
He pulled me in closer.
I climbed on his lap and threw my arms around his neck, without skipping a beat.
Exodus’s big hands traveled from the nape of my neck to my back where he wrapped them around me.
He held me. Tight. Soft lips pressed tightly against mine, while our tongues did this…
aggressive dance. One filled with that desire I spoke of earlier.
No, I was wrong. This wasn’t the desire from earlier—this was something deeper.
This was something hungrier. We were messy.
Kissing like teenagers, gyrating our hips on each other, dry humping like we hadn’t had sex for years.
No.
We weren’t aggressive.
I was aggressive.
I was feverish.
Exodus was soft.
He was slow.
He was delicate.
He was gentle.
Until he matched my fire.
A fire I couldn’t contain. I wanted Exodus Christ. I wanted him bad. And as shy and bashful as I was a minute ago, that shit didn’t matter. It faded. The minute his lips touched mine, it went away. Flames ignited and I deemed him irresistible. On every fucking level.
He was perfect damn near.
The taste of his tongue.
The feel of his hands on my skin, creeping up the back of my shirt while he held me.
I quivered.
Or did I shiver?
Whichever… I moved. I quaked. My body responded to him in ways it’d never responded to anyone ever before.
And I liked it. I liked it so got damn much that I decided right then and there, I wanted that—whatever it was that he did to me—all of the time.
I decided then that I didn’t want him to give that to anyone else.
Immediately… I was possessive and the man… he wasn’t mine.
He didn’t belong to me. No one belonged to anyone. Because life was unfair. Because life was fickle. In that moment, I realized what danger I was in and pulled away from the kiss, a panting, teary eyed mess.
I couldn’t fall for Exodus. Not only because people left but because what I felt when his lips touched mine was dangerous.
Falling for him wouldn’t just be detrimental to my mental health but dangerous too.
I was serious about the possessiveness. Serious about not wanting him to give that to anyone else.
So serious about wanting that all of the time.
Wanting this. The vibes. The chemistry. The irresistible, undeniable energy.
Exodus was a drug. Something I’d want all of the time.
Something I’d want to hold on to. And you couldn’t…
you couldn’t hold on to people because… people… people left.
He brushed his thumb under my eye, catching a tear I didn’t realize I’d cried. “What happened? I do too much?”
I pulled my lips into my mouth and shook my head. “You did exactly enough,” I whispered.
“What’s wrong then?” He asked, his baritone softening, catching yet another tear.