6. The Way You Look at Me
CHAPTER SIX
THE WAY YOU LOOK AT ME
T he car door closed with a quiet finality that felt louder than it should have.
Aniyah sat inside her car longer than necessary, her fingers still curved around the staring wheel. Trevor’s footsteps moved away across the asphalt, measured and steady. He did not rush. He did not look back. He carried himself like a man who had learned how to survive in public.
She could still feel him.
The imprint of his arms around her waist. The weight of his cheek resting against the crown of her head. The moment his body softened against hers like he had finally allowed himself to exhale.
It hadn’t been flirtation.
It hadn’t been casual.
It had been something deeper and more dangerous because it was honest.
Aniyah forced her body to move. The quiet inside the car pressed in close. She stared through the windshield at the dim parking lot, the skeletal trees stretching upward against a bruised November sky.
Her pulse had not slowed.
When he wrapped his arms around her, she felt two things at once. His need. And her own.
That unsettled her.
She did not blur lines. She did not misread trauma for intimacy. She did not cross boundaries she set for herself.
But the way he held her had not felt like crossing.
It had felt like he was grounding her in the moment. For once she didn’t feel lost in her body the echo of her loneliness surrounding her. She was present, warm and safe.
She started the engine. The heater breathed to life, warm air sliding across her knuckles. As she pulled out of the lot, she caught a glimpse of him in her rearview mirror, standing beside his car with his head tilted slightly toward the sky.
The image followed her home.
The sky was dark when she reached her condo. She let herself inside and dropped her keys on the entry table without turning on the overhead lights. The glow from the city and the moon was enough.
She crossed the living room and stopped at the window .
There was something about the ocean in winter. It was restless but calming in the same breath which is why she often stood at her windows for hours.
She leaned her forehead against the glass. His voice echoed in her mind.
Thank you for seeing her.
He had meant Zara.
But she knew he had meant himself too. Aniyah closed her eyes.
She had spent years building a life that felt intentional.
A career she chose. A home she filled with warmth.
A quiet that belonged to her. She did not let men walk into that space without clarity.
She did not let loneliness dress itself up as connection. And yet…
When he held her, it felt like recognition.
Not of who they were in high school. Not of some teenage love that never happened.
It felt like two adults meeting in the wreckage of separate storms and realizing neither of them was pretending anymore.
She exhaled slowly and walked to the kitchen.
Poured a glass of water she did not drink.
Instead, she opened her notebook because the words were waiting.
At the top of the page she wrote:
What I’m Not
She stared at the line until the ocean filled the silence.
What I’m not is
a harbor for borrowed grief
that forgets its own.
Her pen paused .
What I’m not is
afraid of warmth in winter
if it is earned slowly.
She closed the notebook and pressed her palm against the cover. This had to be slow. It had to be.
Saturday night, Mya and Stephanie saw it on her face before she even sat down.
They had been friends since they were five years old. They knew her tells the way other people knew their own handwriting.
Mya was first through the door, tall and caramel-skinned with long faux locs gathered high, her posture relaxed but observant. She wore a tailored camel coat and boots that clicked softly against the floor. Her eyes held humor and assessment in equal measure.
Stephanie followed, deep brown skin glowing under the restaurant’s low light, her natural curls shaped perfectly around her cheekbones. Her leather jacket fit like it was made for her, and her gold hoops caught every flicker of candlelight when she turned her head.
They slid into the booth across from Aniyah like they had always done, claiming space without asking.
Mya didn’t even wait for the server to walk away before she tilted her head and really looked at Aniyah.
“You’re quiet in a different way tonight,” she said, not accusing, just observant. “Something is definitely spinning wheels in that head of yours. ”
Aniyah tried to laugh it off. “I’m always quiet.”
Stephanie snorted softly. “Not with that constipated look on your face. You aren’t fooling anyone. So spill.”
Aniyah glanced between them looking at her expectantly. “Y’all are dramatic.”
Mya leaned back, folding her arms loosely. “We went to kindergarten together. I know your faces. That one right there says something got through the armor and shook you up. You’ve been thinking about it for a while now. Spill.”
Silence stretched just long enough to make it honest.
Aniyah reached for her water. “Parent teacher conferences were this week.”
“Uh-huh,” Stephanie said gently. “And Trevor Porter walked into your classroom.” There was no teasing in her voice now.
She knew the look Aniyah had now, it was the same one she had freshman year of high school when Trevor showed up from summer break looking like a heart throb.
The girl was gone for him then and she was gone for him now.
Aniyah exhaled slowly. “Yes.”
Mya’s expression softened instead of sharpening. “How is he, for real? You know I'm mutuals with Katelyn and I saw her posting about being on a yacht with The Terminator.”
Aniyah took her time answering. “He looks like someone who hasn’t had space to fall apart. He’s holding it together because he has to for Zara, but you can clearly see he is going through it as well.”
Stephanie nodded once. “After putting up with that crazy ass bitch for years? That tracks.”
“He told me what happened between them,” Aniyah continued, voice lower now. “Katelyn terminated her parental rights to their daughter. Can you believe that? Zara is such an amazing little girl, she doesn’t deserve that woman as a mother. ”
Mya’s jaw tightened. “That woman is—” She stopped herself and shook her head. “You’re right, Zara doesn’t deserve that.”
“No,” Aniyah said quietly. “She doesn’t.”
Stephanie watched her carefully. “What did you do when he spilled the beans about it?”
Aniyah’s fingers traced the edge of her glass. “I mostly listened. I told him he was doing a good job. When the meeting was over…” She hesitated in responding because she still couldn’t name what happened between them.
“Something happened between you two, didn’t it,” Mya questioned softly.
Aniyah nodded. “He walked me to my car and for a moment, we just stared at each other. Then he pulled me in for a hug and it felt…It was what I needed. It was what he needed.”
Stephanie’s eyes sparked at the glow she saw in Aniyah’s face. A smirk graced her lips. “Did you pull away?”
“No,” Aniyah admitted. “I thought I would. I didn’t.”
“And how did it feel?”
Aniyah swallowed, “Like it was everything we needed in that moment and when he pulled away, I missed him. That is fucking crazy! This man is just that, a man. But it felt–.”
Mya’s voice shifted into something protective, “Aniyah, that’s the kind of moment that can mean everything or nothing. The difference is timing.”
“I know.”
“He’s fresh out of something,” Stephanie added. “And you don’t do casual. You don’t dip your toe in water you know you’ll drown in. Please be careful with this. I don’t want you to lose yourself trying to save his broken heart.”
Aniyah leaned back slowly. “That’s what scares me. This scares me.”
Mya reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “Are you scared of him? Or of how much you feel? ”
Aniyah didn’t answer right away. Then quietly responded, “Both. And I know it doesn’t make sense, after one conversation I shouldn’t feel shit.
But I do. And I know it’s a moot point because he has a lot going on.
It’s a shame too, because he got a haircut and his face is the perfect seat. ” She whines.
“Aniyah! Put your pussy on ice!” Mya responds laughing.
“What? I’m being honest. You know I have a thing for the artsy guys.”
“That family is full of artsy men,” Stephanie replied, smirking.
“Remember Sergio? The drummer?” Aniyah asked, mentioning her ex from four years ago.
“The one that had the hole in his sock so we called him Zero?” Mya replied all the girls burst out laughing that made a few patrons turn their heads, but they didn’t care. That was the beauty of sisterhood.
Mya studied her again, “So, what are you going to do?”
Aniyah met her eyes. “Nothing,” she said honestly. “He needs time. And I need to make sure what I feel isn’t just because of proximity and loneliness.”
Stephanie smiled faintly, “You already know it’s not.”
Aniyah did not respond.
Because she did, but at this moment there was nothing she could do about it. Aniyah would continue her days as she did before Trevor and Zara Porter walked into her life—alone.
Thanksgiving break arrived wrapped in quiet.
Her friends invited her to their family homes. She declined gently. This season she wasn’t up for visiting someone else’s traditions. She wanted the ocean. She wanted stillness. She wanted to sit with herself and not perform joy for anyone else.
She cooked alone and set the table anyway. She had fixed Cornish hens, collard greens, mac and cheese and dressing. All the recipes she learned from her Papa. It was her way of feeling close to him without grief overcoming her. Once her dinner was done, she placed a small plate by the window.
“Happy Thanksgiving,” she whispered softly into the empty condo.