19
ERICA
??------??
I’ve been sleeping most of the day. I miss King. I can’t believe that happened. I keep thinking about it, the way his penis felt when he was coming, the way his breath was hot on my neck.
A knock on my apartment door snaps me out of the daydream. I feel weak as I get up from the bed, but I make it to the door. It’s Xander.
I let him in. He’s holding a container of food.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Yeah. Just been feeling under the weather,” I reply.
He comes in and we start to chit-chat. Xander sets the container on the kitchen counter, reaches into one of the overhead cabinets for the paper plates I keep there, and dishes some out for both of us.
Next thing I know, we’re both sitting on the couch watching TV.
Taking one bite, I find I can’t eat any more and set the bowl aside.
“What’s the matter? You don’t want it?” Xander asks.
“Not really hungry. It’s good though, but…”
“All right, pass it over here,” he says.
He takes my bowl and eats my share while we watch the show, Hallway Desires.
People have been saying it’s good. It’s about two married couples who live in apartments right next to each other.
The woman from one couple and the man from the other have to leave at the same time every day to catch the bus to work and come back around the same time too.
Over time they start desiring each other even though they’re both married.
There’s a lot more drama that happens throughout, but it’s an interesting concept even though some of it’s over the top.
There’s another knock on my apartment door. Xander looks over at me.
“You expecting someone?” he asks.
“Not really,” I answer, getting up to look through the peephole.
Butterflies start fluttering in my stomach when I see King standing there. Oh no. What is he going to think if he sees Xander here?
Why does it matter?
I forgot he’s not my boyfriend.
We did stuff, but so did me and Xander, something he doesn’t know about.
I open the door. “I thought you were… I thought you couldn’t be here,” I remind him.
He gives me a soft smile and holds up two plastic white bags and a little gift bag. “I came to drop off some stuff,” he says. As he starts to enter my apartment, he freezes when he notices Xander sitting on the couch, still eating.
“What’s up, man,” Xander says, giving him a cursory wave before turning his attention back to the TV.
“Hey,” King says, looking at me with an expression I know is judgmental. He’s probably wondering why the hell Xander is here.
He really has some nerve. After the way he left and what he told me, why would he care? It’s my apartment.
But then again, what if I walked into King’s apartment and saw some girl on his couch?
To be honest… yeah, I would care.
My feelings for King haven’t changed. And I’m aware they’ve reached the point where I get jealous if I imagine him with any other woman.
Even with Aaliyah, and knowing the two of them are better suited for each other, I still feel jealous. But that’s beside the point.
Following King to the kitchen, my mouth breaks into a smile as I see the three gigantic jugs of orange juice he puts on the counter before placing them in the fridge.
“Did you take your Tylenol?” he asks me.
“Yeah,” I answer.
“I got these for you. Your feet get really cold, so…”
He hands me the cutest pink fluffy socks with little white… bunnies on them?
I’m not sure what they’re supposed to be exactly, but they have little eyes.
“These are so cute . Nice and soft. Thank you so much. What possessed you?” I smirk.
“Nothing.”
“Did you feel guilty?” I tease.
He freezes, staring at nothing in particular, then starts folding up the bags. “Guilty about what?” he asks, his face reddening.
“About leaving me alone last night,” I whisper.
King’s eyes narrow as he side-eyes me with a mischievous smirk of his own. “What’s the matter? You don’t want your friend to know?”
“Do you want him to know?” I challenge, whispering back.
King straightens up and puts the bags in a drawer.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” I say playfully, even though it takes a lot out of me to do it.
“Glad to know you’re feeling a lot better,” King says in mock scorn.
“Let me guess. I’m going to have to go to church tomorrow?” I ask.
“No. You should rest,” he says, which surprises me.
“Hey, Erica. I’m going to bounce,” Xander calls out.
“Oh, okay,” I say, trotting toward him.
“No, I got you. I’ll close it,” Xander says.
When the door closes again, King is standing in the living room. Without warning, I wrap my arms around his midsection. His arms shoot up in surprise.
“The socks are so cute. Thank you,” I say, smiling.
King doesn’t hug me back. As a matter of fact, he gently peels my arms off from around him and pushes me away.
Wow.
But he really feels some way about what happened between us.
Is it that he feels guilty because of the whole religious aspect?
Or is it that he got what he wanted and now he’s pushing me to the side?
I think it’s the religious thing. Because every other guy I know who got their rocks off would just move on. They wouldn’t give a shit if I was sick. And they sure as hell wouldn’t come back here with orange juice and cute little pink socks.
For me, those are boyfriend actions.
“How was your day?” I ask him, not feeling any offense whatsoever.
“It was all right,” he replies. Then he hesitates, like he’s thinking. “It was kind of weird,” he adds.
“Why so?” I ask, flopping onto my couch with one leg folded under me.
He walks closer, standing off to the side, glancing at the TV for a moment before looking back at me.
“Aaliyah asked me out,” he answers.
My stomach instantly drops. “That’s… yeah, that’s good. You guys would make a good pair,” I say, not really meaning it.
“What I mean is… she didn’t really fully ask me out… she hypothetically asked me out. But I know that’s what she was doing.”
“I mean, you never know, King. Maybe God is blessing you by sending her and putting you two together. Isn’t that what God does? Send you the right person to bless you?”
“Funny. She said the same thing,” he tells me. “It was nice though. Hanging out with her.” He says this as he turns the TV off.
Trying to ignore the small pain in my heart, I watch him walk to my kitchen.
“Did you have anything to eat?” he asks, looking at the bowls in the sink.
“I took a bite of the oxtail, but I’m not really hungry.”
“You have to eat, Erica.”
“King—”
“No. You’re going to eat something. Remember how you fed me when I came home from the hospital? So please don’t give me a hard time,” he orders.
It feels nice hearing him in there, moving around, making God knows what. A few minutes later he comes back with a plate of sandwiches he’s cut into little triangles. The food smells good.
Fried pork, eggs, and some avocado slices layered in.
We sit together side by side on the couch. King looks over to his right at me. I take a bite of the sandwich, and it’s actually really good. As soon as I do, I look back at him. He gives me a nod of approval, then starts eating too.
He pushes my plate, that’s on my lap, slightly, picks up another piece, and holds it in front of my face.
My hand reaches out to take it gently, but he pulls it out of my reach, then puts it in front of my face again.
Giving him a smile and rolling my eyes, I take a bite.
He’s chewing his own food while feeding me.
“Good,” he says with a stuffed mouth. “Take another one.”
After I do and swallow, I giggle. “I’m not a baby. You don’t have to—”
“I had to take care of you when we were out there in the woods. It’s really not any different.”
He finishes his food much quicker. Looking down at my plate, two lonely mini sandwiches sit there, they actually make up half a sandwich.
“Finish eating,” he coaxes firmly.
“I literally can’t eat anymore.”
“You didn’t have much of anything,” he states.
“King—”
“Just eat one more,” he says, lifting up the little sandwich piece and putting it up to my face again.
“I can’t—”
Cutting me off, he pushes the sandwich piece to my mouth. “One more and I promise I’ll leave you alone.”
Wanting to please him, I take one bite of the mini piece, then the other, and swallow.
He takes the last piece off my plate, then grabs both plates. He looks at me with those intense gray eyes before heading to the kitchen to rinse them off.
Then he comes back to the couch.
He returns to his seat beside me on my left and turns his body to face me, his right leg curled under him too.
King looks down at the space between us on the cushions. “Listen, Erica…” he starts, before his eyes return to mine. “What we did was horrible. And we’re going to have to go through a season of repentance.”
Rolling my eyes, I say, “Once you ask God for forgiveness, doesn’t God just forgive you?”
“Yes he does,” he answers. “But… we can’t keep sinning. You can’t ask God for forgiveness… and pray and then sin on top of that. Once you’re better… I can’t be over here.”
This is not what I want to hear. What we did, I think was beautiful, but no matter how much I believe that, I know King doesn’t. Well, that’s okay. I’m not going to fight him.
“I understand, King. It’s fine.”
Just when I think that’s it, he taps me with his finger draped over the back of the couch. “You shouldn’t have anyone over here either.”
My eyes narrow as I look at him. “Excuse me?”
“You know what I mean,” he says, his words heavy with implication.
He’s talking about Xander, possibly any other man.
My eyes roll. “Okay, look… you don’t get to dictate that. You’re not my boyfriend.”
“Is your neighbor your boyfriend?” he challenges.
Smiling at him, I tilt my head. “Why are you so concerned with that?”
“Well, he was here with you alone.”
“So are you, and you’re not my boyfriend,” I remind him.
“Yes, I’m not your boyfriend, but we still sinned,” he reminds me.
The way his face looks tells me very clearly that he’s curious whether or not I did something with Xander.
“Are you asking if I sinned with him like I did with you?”
He looks like he wants to know, but he doesn’t ask me.
Shrugging a shoulder, I smile sweetly. “Guess you’ll never know.”
King’s eyes narrow at me like he’s trying to see through me or as if he’s disciplining me in his mind, either one.
“I have to prepare for tomorrow,” he says, stretching and getting up off the couch.
“What, for church?” I ask.
“Yeah. Prayer, reading my Bible.”
“Ah,” I say, nodding in understanding.
Rising, I accompany him to the front door. “King?”
He turns to face me. He’s so tall.
“Thank you. Thank you for taking care of me.”
He gives me a smile. I’d like to reach forward and hug him, but I don’t.
“Good night, Erica. Remember to take your other Tylenol,” he says.
“I will, doctor,” I quip.
King just stands there for a while, staring at me, and I stare back, waiting to see what he’ll do.
Maybe I’m thinking too deeply into it, but it’s almost like the man doesn’t want to leave.
But he nods slowly, turns his gaze away, looks at the wall in the hallway, and then takes his leave down the stairs.
When I retreat back into my apartment, it just feels really empty without King.