she writes — you read.


thinking of you drabbles | the way you make me feel #11

a/n: this shit ended up being as long as an add, enjoy!

set in june ’07 | drabble: dominate | word count: 4,400+

“If you’re a couple, why don’t you just put it out there?” Maya wants to argue me down, and I’m not really in the mood for it. I pinch the bridge of my nose and make a sound rifled with annoyance as I glare at her and continue putting on my shoes.

“We’re not a couple. We’re fucking, but… it’s complicated.” I wet my bottom lip with my tongue as I stand up tall and glance at myself in the reflection of the walls we past them.

She’s too fucking nosey, and it irks me to the core. No matter how much she wants to prove her worth, it won’t happen any time soon. She really doesn’t want the distraction of the media having a field day with it and chasing her down for statements. She’s not ready.

“You’re not ready to handle something like that anyway, Maya. Let it marinate.” I spend the entire time contemplating what the fuck to do with her as we leave the state of Virginia not too long after she clears her throat and make some comment about being too fucking complicated.

Robyn tackles me in LAX and the pictures are on MediaTakeOut within hours. I don’t care. I abandon my crew, who’s out here basically for the whole month, just to be with her. I get looks of disapproval for a brief second, but I’m sure they fade once I hop into the chauffeured SUV with her and pull away to her apartment.

“Three days of just you and me…you excited?” She murmurs in between kisses and I smile, appropriately feeling lifted as she tells me all the things she wants to do to past the time, and I feel powerless but I don’t care.

For the moment, she’s in control.

Her suggestions range from mild (I can’t wait to spend time with you, Chris…) to flat out fucking lewd (I can’t wait until you let me taste you…) and it all makes me more anxious than I’ve ever been. I keep nodding as I feel as happiest as I’ve been in a minute, but I won’t admit that to her. I’ve barely just gotten over my panic attacks, and I don’t know how long that’s going to last.

The three day break passes quickly. Sleeping in late seems like the biggest luxury after waking up next to her. Pretending like we’re a legit couple, and tons of sneaking around like the teenagers we are. She likes sex in the morning, and when I wake her up with my hands and my lips. The world spun and the room disappeared and it was just us on a bed of fresh scents and flickering lights.

Everything is hypnotic and I feel like I’m drowning in her, but I don’t mind. This doesn’t bother me, even if it doesn’t come with any more foundation than it did when we started it. There hadn’t been a day since we’d started this thing between us… whatever the fuck it was we were doing, that I remembered waking up in this happy.

We laid there for minutes afterward, kissing, teasing, stroking… feeling, and after those minutes passed, she whispered a “Thank you,” into my ear. I don’t ask for a clarification. I’m too busy staring into beautiful eyes and trying to regulate my breathing.

If only we could stay in bed forever, but we can’t, because soon, phones come to life and everyone’s requesting appearances in various places, and we have to separate again.

We’re turned on, fully locked into celebrity mode. There are interviews and photo shoots and business to take care of for the both of us. She has the MTV Movie Awards to go to, and Omari’s pressed me into going to lunch with him.

So I leave, and she does too, and for a minute, it’s bittersweet.

“Later?” Kiss, promise, kiss… I nod, but it doesn’t make it a total promise. The future is kind of fucking surprising like that, and there’s no telling what’ll be tossed at me. And for some reason as I was leaving, I had thought it would be easier than last time, but it isn’t. It’s not easy at all.

It’s fucking hard. Because there’s this part of me that misses her, and it pisses me off.

The thing about missing someone, I mean really truly missing them, is that the longer you are apart the harder it gets. I hate that it dawns on me now, three days after reconnecting, while we separate, that I missed her.

I learned as a kid not to miss people, because missing them just sets you up to think they’re coming back, and sometimes they just don’t at all. So, I ignore it. I won’t miss her. We have this small window together, and then we’ll have to see what’ll happen next.

Hopefully…

….

“Oh so you’re here,” I’m a bit thrown off by the childish look of horror on her face when I hop over the chair in front of me, “But you didn’t tell me shit?”

Alarmed at my sudden closeness, Kacie steps back, confused. I clear my throat and crack a smile, and she registers my fake attitude with a scoff. Then, she pokes me in the cheek and shoves half of her salad towards me.

“It’s June, last time I checked.” Smart ass.

I don’t think Omari appreciates the open mouth kiss I gives her, but he doesn’t say shit. I’m still somewhat pissed about him hanging with Robyn on the set of her last video like everything is all good.

I don’t mention it though – he gives me this weak nod and I reciprocate it only for Kacie’s sake, because I only totally tolerate him for her now, but I don’t bring it to anyone’s attention. I’m kind of uncertain as to where I stand with anyone these days. Situations are changing and things are struggling to adjust, and all I can do is try and find my place.

“You’re hungry, right babe? I’ma order your food then…trust me, okay?” Kacie nudges me and I nod, absolutely comfortable now, with nothing to worry about.

At least I know I haven’t totally fucked up things with her. At least not enough for her loyalty to stray totally from me, which is good, I guess. After speaking quick Spanish to the waitress, three entrees come and everything is relaxed and calm, especially as she traces circles into the naked skin of my arm while she eats, needing to touch me.

I’m not going anywhere. She knows that, but her touch is extra reassuring anyway.

Lunch goes by good – we talk about her Vibe work (I’m doing Art shit with Daz for the whole summer and it pays even though it’s like, freelancing but I don’t care, I got to meet motherfucking Method Man, Oh my GOD I’ma marry that nigga) ­– Omari and Shad’s upcoming CD (You should hop on a track with us, I promise you. Or at least come out when we start recording for the show…) and I toss a few words in about Exclusive and how excited I am about it.

Between lunch and leaving, Kacie hugs me and I squeeze her, just happy to see her, even if she’s still hesitant to really show me the type of affection she normally would seeing as Omari is hanging around and they’re not at each other’s necks.

Well, until he tells me that she invited him somewhere, recently. It kinda all goes over my head, and Kacie glances away as she mentions having fun that night. With Robyn? I highly fucking doubt it, but I roll my eyes and remind myself to ask her about it later.

“You must have been neglecting myspace, or maybe ya’ll aren’t as honest with each other as you think, huh?” I pull my phone out and access it from there, sucking my teeth when to my confused amazement, she hadn’t lied.

KCJDVGHN: Mel, Broski, and Fenty actually were cool to hang out with tonight…

KCJDVGHN: i have no idea wtf omari and robyn are staring at right now…

“Ya’ll didn’t rip each other’s fucking hair out or nothing?” I ruffle her head of locs as she pokes me in the ribs and shakes her head no, glancing at me with eyes filled with apologetic remorse.

“I’m not mad at you…” I’m pissed at her, for not mentioning this.

“Don’t take it out on her. Don’t even blame her, it was just… a spur of the moment thing. We hung out at Nani’s, she rolled through… it wasn’t even that long. We all just kinda hung out on the porch and shit, nothing too eventful…” Kacie continues to ramble until I press my lips against hers and bottom out my water.

“Chill. Don’t worry, I’ma head out though…” Both pair of brown eyes are giving me curious looks, but neither of them gets up.

I place a twenty on the table and promise to call her later, sighing to myself when I get on the outskirts of the building and climb into the back of a cab.

What the fuck, man.

….

The moment in which she got aggressively pissed off had to be the same moment I realized I was doing something wrong. I didn’t even come at her with the Omari friendship mission I had been on earlier, but yet a text, a simple fucking text, seemed to piss her off while we navigated back to her apartment in the back of a town car.

She smelled like cigarettes and looked like sex, and I knew I was in trouble.

“All she did was texted me, Robyn. Wondering if I wanted to hang out. This was hours ago, mind you. What’s the issue?”

“That’s not even the point,” She waved the phone back and forth in my face as I rolled my eyes and snatched my phone back from her.

“She’s all on your dick, pretty much. Have you fucked her?” The green-eyed monster is on one.

“You’d be a little less jealous when you hear me tell you we haven’t had sex. Chill babe,” I moved a little closer as she narrowed her gaze at me and tossed a flurry of insults towards me as I closed my eyes and sank back down into the leather seat.

“Girl, there’s tons of females out there who want to fuck me and you’re worried about Kacie?” I pursed my lips as she sucked her teeth and insulted me again.

“But you don’t treat those tons of females out there like you do her,” Robyn dug her fingernails into her black hair, glaring at me.

“You think we’re stupid, don’t you? We shouldn’t want to fuck with you, but we do. And you only want to be with someone who will give you absolute servitude.” Robyn rambles, cigarette number two dangling from the side of her red lips.

“You act as if whoever you’re interested in you has to be someone you can rein in and tame like some fucking wild dog,” The lighter sparks up and she pulls the smoke in her mouth and blows it effortlessly out of her nose. I cluck my tongue and wonder how long she’s going to be on this topic, because honestly? I’m over it.

“Stop smoking, and stop thinking you fucking know everything.I demand, watching her roll her eyes at me.

“You’re just hurting yourself. I’m going to make sure you don’t, not anymore — You better enjoy that one in your mouth because it’s your last — “ Her hand slaps mines down and I suck my teeth and toss the cigarette out of the window the second the window has a sligh crack in it.

“You’ve been pissing me off all night and now you want to throw my fucking cigarette out of the window? Really? You know I need that for my voice!” She shrieks, and I furrow my brow at her and dig my fingernails into the seat.

“But you don’t have any reason to be mad at me at all,” I glanced over at Robyn as she held up her hand and I slouched in my seat across from her, head shaking from side to side.

“I’ve been pissed at you since we left Shia’s party!” She yells, and I really don’t want this to turn into a shouting match, but now that I know what her issue is, I’m getting just as pissed.

There’s this split second of anger in her eyes as they shift from green to hazel and I exhale and try to straighten out my face, letting her admission hang in the air for a minute. I watch her fist clench, and wonder if she has the audacity to hit me.

Probably.

New haircut, good girl gone bad persona, I figure a little backseat rumble won’t do much to her reputation. She’s already snapped on a variety of dancers and backstage help before her performance; because honestly how can anyone fuck up a song she’s already become a pro at performing?

But it seemed like she’d woken up on the wrong side of the bed this morning and I don’t know how to remedy it, but she damn sure kept on a straight face for me, for a moment anyway.

After a really quick breakfast – cereal in a coffee cup for me and yogurt and granola and fruit for her – she’d gotten fed up and threw a bottle at me, and I was still pissed about that. It was just a small water bottle, which hit my shoulder blade when we stopped fucking long enough for me to return a call from Barry. I can admit that I was ignoring her though, and her spoiled ass was not in the mood for that.

Her aggression was new to me, and it was something I tried to get a handle on, but it didn’t help that she seemed to be too wound up to let me help her release some tension. And then there was this stupid argument we’ve been mindlessly locked in since Kacie texted me, and since she doesn’t want to accept that I’m not ready, her denial of claims admission only pissed me off even more.

“So, because I’m not ready to press this any further, you have an attitude? You wanna get mad and yell and shout at me because I didn’t want to hold your hand and cuddle up to you? That’s fucking stupid.” I sighed and tilted my head back, groaning.

When I was digging her back out in her hotel, where were the complaints then? Maya would have a fucking field day with this, and let the wrong person hear it while we’re stopping at a red light, and it might just be all over the internet within a couple of hours just like everything else.

California was too manufactured, too damned fake when it came to shit like this, events and whatnot. We didn’t need to make any appearances, no matter what was going on behind closed doors. People could continue to fucking speculate, because we didn’t have to really sit down and confirm shit: no matter what her people tried to press.

No matter who image it would help, or whatever type of status it would boost us to. This wasn’t a fucking business deal, and no matter what Maya tied to press on me, or Robyn tried to convince me to do, bottom line was, I’m not ready.

She was pissed and probably would be for a while, but it didn’t matter because I was too annoyed for this shit anyway. So after sitting in the car for a couple of more blocks, and I know she’s still pissed, I’m not surprised when she turns to me, new cigarette materializing from God knows where, and knee bouncing up and down.

“If you’re not ready, then don’t go back with me. Just get the fuck out then. Go back to your hotel. Get out.”

It takes me a few seconds to regain some composure I’d clearly lost and I took a breath or two before deciding I didn’t really wanna go there with her. But still, while trying to get my shit together and see if she’s serious, I don’t move, and she throws an ashtray at me.

It happens just that fast. I don’t even have time to move. It’s one of those heavy glass pieces too, and it shatters in the backseat, sending chunks of glass to rain across the floor. One piece in particular hits me square in the forehead and after two seconds of deep breathing, the town car comes to a screeching halt, and I yank the door open, slamming it hard much to her annoyance.

I’m mad now, fucking livid, and she’s a bitch, a fucking crazy bitch as I watch the car pull off and I stand there, in a mixture of confusion and irritation. I don’t even know where the fuck I am, and when I see the town car stop and something gets tossed out of the window – I realize it’s the fucking flowers I got her – I inwardly scream and I feel like hitting something.

What the fuck is wrong with her?

The anger is brief but crushingly painful—almost instantly, it gives way to disappointment. When humiliation overwhelms everything else, I know. I’m sure, for a fucking fact, that I’m not ready for this shit yet…

Everyone can stop asking and speculating, because I’m sure no matter what I’m trained to say, next person questions about her isn’t going to be too happy about the attitude I give off when I respond, if I even respond at all.

I don’t even know how to fucking get back to my hotel, nor where I am, and it pisses me the fuck off and I’m hot and crabby and fucking upset and convinced I’m bleeding, because I can feel something on my forehead.

I smell the blood now, and drop where I am. Just pissed. I see some random man pick up the lilies out of the street and I cluck my tongue and tilt my head back, defeated.

I’m on the curb of an unfamiliar street when my phone rings, and I sigh but answer it anyway. I pull my fingertips away from my forehead and I’m not surprised at all that they’re saturated in blood, and it makes me frown.

“Hey, you actually answered? Must not be too busy then. What’re you doing, I can’t sleep…” As far as I’m concerned, she’s been done with me since the last time we’d encountered each other in Brooklyn, but that ‘wanna hang out’ text was obviously an extended invitation.

I don’t think she really wants to be alone with me, but if she’s asking, I won’t turn down a request. But looking at the state I’m in, I know shit won’t happen, so I sigh, and nibble on my lip before answering.

“Nah, I wish I had you with me right now though.” I admit, and my stomach clenches when I hear that scoff in rebuttal.

“Why, you and your girl beefin’ or something?” She’s not teasing, but her voice is full of emotion. I try to pluck out exactly what kind of emotion that lingers behind her tone, but I can’t quite pinpoint it exactly.

I feel a headache coming on and I groan and clench my eyes shut. I know it’s vulnerable as fuck for me to be sitting idly by on a curb in a busy city even though it’s nearing on three am and I haven’t seen anyone drive down the boulevard or anything else in the last ten or so minutes.

“Something like that…. I’m kind of stranded right now though. Do you think you could help me out? Like, if I tell you where I am, could you tell me the quickest way to get to my hotel?” I bring my hand back to my face to touch my wound.

It fucking hurts and I groan, gasping suddenly, trying to compress the injury as though the pressure will relieve some of the sharp, momentary agony. It doesn’t, and now my hand is basically saturated in my own fucking blood and I swear to god that I don’t want shit to do with Robyn Rihanna Fenty until she can get her shit together.

“Where are you?”

“Um…” I peer around, shrugging to myself as I stand up and try to figure out where I’ve been ditched at. “I’m by a print copy shop, an apartment complex and… by some place called Chipotle. Do you know where I am?”

“I don’t know where you are exactly, but it shouldn’t be that hard to find you. Can you start walking and find some sort of landmark?” I hear a jingle, keys maybe? I can tell she’s going down the stairs and I feel elated when the door closes, hoping she quickly finds me.

I pass restaurant after restaurant, only looking when I need to tell her what’s around me, and she tells me she knows the area, but I need to find somewhere to go and be still at.

I feel weak as fuck. She doesn’t need to rescue me from a damned thing, but calling anyone else is out of the question. I can only take so many not so discreet look of curiousness, and even a couple of questions concerning my intentions.

I figure I could answer them now… I’m not ready for this shit. We can’t do this, not right now.

No thanks to this heat, blood is crusting in my eyebrow now, and I can feel it. I don’t even know what the protocol on this is, so when someone thinks they’ve spotted me, I shove my hand in my pocket and claim that I hear that all the time, but I’m definitely not who they think I am.

Because really, they don’t know me.

“I’m in a twenty four hour drugstore,” I grit my teeth after ten minutes of non-stop walking and stumble into the too bright business. I keep my phone pressed to my ear and my hand to my forehead and make my way through the mazes of aisles until I reach one titled First Aid.

My arms are filled with shit – a first aid kit, SpongeBob themed bandaids, a water bottle, a small mini pack of Kleenex, and a four pack of that shit she likes from Starbucks. I make my way to the checkout line, phone pinching my ear and hot against my shoulder from the forty five minute phone call, but I don’t care.

I just need to know someone is out there on my side.

I see images of us staring back at me in the checkout line and roll my eyes, tossing two travel bottles of aspirin onto the counter as well after I unload the bundle in my arms. The cashier is foreign and bored, not giving me a second glance of recognition, even with my face plastered all over the magazines near the counter.

I push a wrinkled twenty onto the counter and wave away my change as I rip open the band-aid brand tiny box with my teeth and immediately apply the gauze to my head. The second I get back into the stuffy air, a folded arm Kacie is illegally stalling, and exhaling at me.

I open the door and sigh, watching her stare at me.

“I told you ’bout messin’ with those voodoo priestesses, now didn’t I?” She clucks her tongue, brow furrowing once we venture back down the deserted streets.

“What’d she do, cut you?” She teases, and I shake my head no.

“She threw an ashtray at my head.” Truth be told, I’d most certainly lie if faced with the question if it was from anyone else though.

We stop at a red light and she turns to me, and I notice we’re not going to my hotel at all. We’re headed to her Dad’s apartment. I swallow hard but don’t voice my apprehension. I don’t want to show up like this.

“She really did that? Ugh, why?”

“I don’t know.” She doesn’t ask me anything else for the rest of the ride.

It’s empty when we get to her place, and fucking cold. But it’s empty and that’s all I really care about right now. I need the privacy, and to figure out how I’m going to explain this. Maybe I can blame it on me trying to navigate in the dark, which really isn’t a lie…

Across the room, Kacie holds her breath. When she finally speaks, her voice is sharp and prickly. “Is it possible that she did this to you because of me asking you to come through earlier? Or am I just being really self-centered right now, because if I am, let me know…”

“No,” I quickly lie, suppressing the urge to sound too eager very unsuccessfully. She cocks one eyebrow; it teeters on her forehead, dangerous, daring. The corners of her mouth push down.

“Next time when you want to lie to me, at least try to make it a good one. Let me see your forehead.” She pulls me into the kitchen, head shaking.

After removing the gauze and cringing the entire way about hating blood but putting up with it for me, she’s damn near about to faint after she throws away bloodied paper towels and washes her hands after bandaging my wound.

“It’s just a cut, I mean, you’ll have a scab but you don’t need stitches. If you wear a hat and keep a clean band-aid on it, you should be alright. That bitch is nuts though, I don’t care…” She rambles as I hold her up against the counter and sigh softly.

After the copper scent disappears and her hands are raw and red, she shudders as I slowly turn her around and she sighs. “Man, what am I gonna do with you?”

I shrug, and she frowns. I haven’t been the best person to her lately, and we still have a little over two months until she leaves for Chicago. Can I even begin to make amends with her, even though I don’t know what will happen when she leaves?

There’s a lot of uncertainty dangling over my relationship statuses at the moment, and this one is no exception. I don’t know how to even begin trying to make things work positively, but I figure that I definitely need to try to do something… I can’t lose her friendship, even if it is fucked.

“I don’t know, but believe me when I tell you that I need you.” I admit, and she nods knowingly.

“You’ve always had me.”



1 Comment so far
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She’s fucking crazy! An whole glass ashtray? And you left him stranded on the side of the road as well? Like really? Really?! But at the same time he has no one to blame but himself. This also shows him that Kacie is going to always have his back no matter what.

Comment by CMH




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