Page 123 of Real's Love

“You think you have to run from anybody ever again?”

Reaching over her, I snatched the phone.

“Targen, no?—"

Holding her back, even as she swatted at me, was easy. Unlocking the phone with the Fibonacci sequence I’d seen her type in, I went straight to her messages. The most recent one had me smirking, some weak ass nigga trying to scare her away from me.

“You scared of this nigga? Didn’t I tell you I would?—"

I stopped as I focused on some of the prior messages from different numbers. Messages telling her how she should’ve been dead, messages telling her all the ways she should be violated and how she’d be made to love it, messages calling her sick and disgusting and out of her name, messages threatening people she loved by name. I scrolled to see that they had begun the night after the reunion and escalated since then. Each night started with a tame insult and worked its way up. She had to have blocked at least a dozen numbers. With every message I read, my rage expanded, my hand tightening on the phone until I could feel the metal starting to bend. I didn’t want to scare her, but I had questions she was going to answer.

I stood, then reached down to pull her up. She was avoiding my eyes, so I tilted her chin back, trying to make her look at me. With my other hand, I held up the phone.

“Who the fuck is this, Theory?” I asked, my voice tight.

She shifted her tear-filled eyes sideways, still evading my gaze. I laughed abruptly, an ugly, harsh sound in the painfully quiet room. Baby girl didn’t know me. She would, though. Lifting the phone, I selected the last message. With a few taps, I sent a message implying that I wanted to talk. A few seconds later, the phone rang. I answered and put it on speaker. Her eyes widened, and she scrambled for the phone again. I didn’t even have to extend my arm far to keep it out of her reach. I muted it, anticipating her protest.

“Targen, no! You can’t?—"

I cut her off with a quick shake of my head. “I can't? I told you that you aremine. Nobody treats mine like this. Nobody talks to mine like this.”

I unmuted the phone. From the other end, there was no greeting, only the light, rhythmic cadence of someone's breathing.

“Scared to reveal yourself, bitch ass nigga? That tells me all I need to know. But I'll get to hear your voice. Pussies like you always cry in the end. I’ma make sure you do,” I vowed before I hung up and turned back to Theory.

The look on her face made my fury burn hotter. She stood there wide-eyed and pale, shaking her head as she hugged herself.

“You shouldn’t have done that. He’s going to?—”

“He ain’t gon’ do shit but find himself at the bottom of one of the old wells on this homestead if he comes here,” I cut her off abruptly. “I don’t think you understand who I am, Theory, but you will. Who the fuck?—”

She shook her head. “I can’t… I can’t tell you,” she whispered.

“That’s your word, baby?” I asked.

A cold smile stretched my lips as I slid her phone into my pocket. Theory didn’t realize that I could get all the information I needed, with or without her cooperation. “Bet.”

The mini-orgasm intensifiedas I pressed my thighs together, greedily holding on to the dream of Real and me in the middle of a particularly filthy session. I murmured his name, my hands gripping the sheets. But I was rudely awakened as my bedspread was yanked off and the hero—or villain, at this point—of my dreams spoke.

“Nah, shorty. I’m not making you cum in real-time or in your dreams right now. Wake that wet ass up!” Real teased.

My eyes flew open as I felt my face flame with anger and embarrassment. Reaching out, I tried to grab my covers from him, but his grip was too strong.

“What the hell are you doing in my room, Montréal?” I hissed.

“I was walking to the kitchen, and I heard you moaning my name. I had to nip that shit in the bud. Keep your nasty thoughts and dreams off me until you learn some respect for what I’m saying,” he taunted.

I wanted to stand up and slap fire from him. I was part pissed off and part confused.Real refused to give up. I was supposed to believe that he wanted to turn our situation into something more, despite the fact that he’d sworn differently more than once. The situations with Pip and Jag, Theory and Targen, and even Granny and PawPaw must have gone to his head. I kept trying to get his mind and his body back into the right place – a familiar, sexual one. He wasn’t going.

“Stay out of my room, Real,” I mumbled.

“I’m trying, but this needy little pussy won’t let me.”

His words made me realize just how far my nightshirt had risen. My stomach, upper thighs, and pussy were visible to him. The only thing that kept me from sinking through the mattress in mortification was the prominent tent in the front of his pajama pants. Real followed my gaze and dropped the covers long enough to try to adjust himself. Satisfied, I smirked at him.

Before I could mouth off, my phone rang. I grabbed it off the nightstand and stared at the unfamiliar number. I almost didn’t answer it, but I figured what the hell.

“Hello?” I greeted my unknown caller, surprised to see that it was after nine AM. How had I slept that late?

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