SOMETHING SWEET

“How are you doing today?” He asked me, his eyes on me. I felt them burn through my thick skin. This is not the first time he is coming my way. Why is he back? “Why are you here?” I asked as I typed furiously on my computer. I didn’t want to give him any attention. I promised my friend never to let him in again. He was dangerous, and being with him was toxic. “Long time, dear.” he was smiling at this point. So, I pushed my screen down a little and looked at him. Empty! His eyes were round and big and his nose a little big. He was looking like himself. Nothing was added to him. He was still the big, nicely dressed package that fate threw my way. “Long time indeed! Now, why is that?” I did not want any emotion to come out of me. “Don’t talk to me like that,” he replied. This stupid man! Does he expect me to be nice to him after all this time? I look at him again and push my head to the side. He was serious. Is he going to apologize? Or he is back because he has not been seeing me and hasn’t heard from me. Is he back because he is facing some life challenges? Is he here to find another way into my heart? Why is he here? “Long time,” I whisper, slowly letting that settle first. He is now standing next to my table. I give him a once over and turn back to typing my message. He shouldn’t be here. His presence is an intrusion—a reminder of what I refuse to acknowledge. And yet, my traitorous heart stutters at the sight of him. Doesn’t he remember I know the truth now? Why does this man keep coming back? Doesn’t he know I don’t care what he is to say to me? Doesn’t he know I am hurt? Why is he back? “I am greeting you because I have been away and busy.” He says, and I nod my head. I don’t believe him. This is not the first time something like this has happened. He keeps running away and coming back. I know it is called ghosting. Yes! “What do you want?’ I ask rather nonchalantly. He should be busy with his daily duties, not with me. He shouldn’t even let me see his face. So, why is he here again? I look at him, and we stare into each other's eyes for a minute. He does not flinch or even make a sound. “Have you eaten breakfast yet?” He breaks the silence. “Why do you care?” I reply. I know this trick. He cares to test if I can still depend on him. Well, I want his money. “Not yet,” I reply. “What do you want to eat?” He asks with a serious face. I know you, devil! I do shout in my head. “I will…...” Yeah, all this happens in the morning before I turn on him and start exposing him. It became clear to me at that moment how much we lied to each other. There was nothing like a beautiful attraction between us. We were only testing each other’s limits. I tell you now that the rest of the conversation was boring, and I want you to know how I feel about this dude. So, let’s dive into the story. I didn’t want him. No, not in the way you think. I only wanted his attention. He wasn’t my type—though I’ll admit, he was tall, smart, handsome, and hardworking. But I wasn’t looking for love. I was looking for an experiment. A distraction. Maybe even validation. Something I didn’t have. I wanted to write more books, and I needed experience to do that. I will tell you now that that was stupid and so childish. But tell me, what better way is there that I could know something the world seems to hide further as you grow up unless it is with experience? I had to take a risk. I had to sacrifice myself. I did have moments of hesitation, but the urge to know got harder. Besides, I wanted to prove that I have healed from my previous relationship. It started with a manuscript in one hand and a freshly typed document in the other. I weighed my options. Could I use him for my little test? He was a good man. At least, I thought he was. But all I craved was his admiration, the way his voice would carry words of praise the way my mother’s and brother’s once did. "You’re brilliant. Did you write this?" "Yes, I did." That’s all I needed to hear. I yearned for good and positive feedback. Weeks flew by, and he became my book partner. He showed a lot of interest, and that pulled us closer. I never intended this to be a story, but here I am, typing, letting the words spill as they come. Maybe I just needed to tell it. When we first saw each other, I was a twenty-something girl, still naïve in many ways. I’ll paint you a picture: a chubby but well-rounded body, clear brown eyes that people often mistook for mascara-lined. Long, natural lashes. Youthful and full of dreams. I was in my blooming era, working for a kind, middle-aged woman who paid me just enough to keep going. Not much, but I was grateful. I was a little shy and too Godly. My faith in the possibility of a better life was high, and I was in love with everything and everyone I met. In my mind, everyone was meant to teach me a lesson. So, I embraced every day with my whole body. Knee to knee, word to word, head to head, and belly to belly. I was too engrossed in my fairytale of reading many books. I anticipated the best in every moment, which was good per se. I had this urge to feel better, needed, wanted, and important. I was never the chosen one, never the name whispered with admiration or the face that turned heads. I existed on the edges, always watching, always wondering. What was it about me that made the world look past? And then he walked in. And everything changed like he existed between charm and chaos. I had never seen such a man and my mind started calculating how much we could gain from knowing him. We could get the boy experience. I wanted to experience the conversations, flirting, teasing, and all the funny things I saw girls my age do. He was a bold black man, though I will admit the little shyness I saw in him. He would disappear from my range and appear again after some time. I was always curious because my older sister always told me how lucky and great he was, and I was jealous of how much he was progressing. I can tell you that I used him however much he used me. I was always pulling the strings—or so I liked to believe. I remember so well the day he turned on me, the day he manipulated me. I knew what was happening, but I let him keep going because this was new and I was curious where this was going. He always texted me consistently. He would make communication between us feel easy. But all this was his way of making me fall for his lies. I remember all these conversations. I know for better now that they were all calculated. All of them were meant to impress me. He had his way of hiding the truth from me. He never talked to me in public and always avoided walking with me. I saw all this and knew what it meant. I kept on going. I kept picking up his calls and answering his texts. He suddenly became a lifeline, and I realized I was losing myself. I saw all the red flags clearly, yet I somehow let go of my pride and dived into this unsensible relationship. I wished for a better life, clearly more intimate with the right person. I knew he was not the one. I knew he was wrong for me. I let moments like this happen. So, I looked into my system and placed the most dormant cells in my brain.  I had this urge to lean into it, so I let my face hide behind his neck and slowly turned my nose to sniff him. He smelled nice, and his body was heated. I wondered what made him sweat that much. I moved my hands and touched him. And he pulled away slightly. "You like that?" he asked, his voice thick with something I couldn’t name. I lay my head on his shoulder, letting the moment settle between us. That must have made him smile because, in a swift motion, he lifted me, his strength effortless, and placed me on the table. His hands traced slowly along my arms, and his breath was warm against my skin. The room felt smaller now, the air heavier, charged with something unspoken. I looked into his eyes, searching for a reason to stop this—some hesitation, some flicker of doubt. But all I found was certainty. "Hey, talk to me," he murmured, his fingers grazing my jaw. "Tell me you like it." I never knew I could be this dumb. For a moment, I hesitated, thinking how unholy this was and how I should be untouchable. I was in a moment of tremendous vulnerability. If he knew, he would do anything to me and get away with it. So, I did what I could do at the moment. I nodded my head, and that is when everything registered to me. I was about to let him in. At that point, he eased into me, an embrace that felt holy and right. His pupils dilated, and I felt him grow stronger. I did not know he was this big. He always looked innocent to me. But tell me, can you name someone innocent, without saying a name I know? I had felt no attraction from him until this moment. He shut the door behind me, the soft click of the lock sending a shiver down my spine. The key disappeared into his pocket, an unspoken promise that I was exactly where he wanted me. Then, he turned back to me, slowly, as if savoring the moment. He progressed to bring his face closer and leaned in for a kiss. But I knew better than to kiss a man I barely knew. He could make me attached, make our small little escape more intimate, and I knew what lay in my soul. I could not handle any more silly obsessions, nor could I handle looking vulnerable in his eyes. It registered in my mind that I was at the edge of doing the deed and pulled away slightly. This was becoming awkward to me. A little unhinged. He slid my pants to the side and let his fingers slide into my folds. The sensation was foreign yet familiar, a contradiction that made a shiver go through me. It was rejuvenating. It was dangerous. And still, I did not stop him.