Page 5 of Love You Like That

Said hers like it was gospel.

She shouldn’t even be here… but she was.

And now I’m ruined.

I stared at the lines and crossed one out then wrote it back before closing the book. It was too soon to be writing about her. It was too soon to be letting her live on my pages but it was already happening. I picked up my phone to hit her up and text her something chill.

You get home safe?

She responded fast like she already knew it was me.

Safe & full of questions.

I smiled.

Ask ’em.

Are you really this smooth or is it all a front? Just game?

Nah. Born this way, beautiful.

She didn’t respond right away, and I figured maybe I came on too strong. But then my phone buzzed again and she’d text back.

That’s what I was afraid of.

I leaned back on the couch, my thumb hovering over the screen, and I just sat there grinning like a damn fool. She was into it. Cautious but curious and I could work with that. I wanted to work with that.

For a long time, I’d just been out here existing. Hustling, spitting poems and doing murals for blocks that never changed. My days dragged and the nights blurred. Women came and went, mostly went though because I wasn’t trying to give anything real. But something about Yavanni made me stop to listen and feel and that shit was too rare to ignore.

T h en e x tm o r n i n g, I woke up with her still on my mind. She had me checking my phone like I had a rightto. No new texts though but I wasn’t mad. I showered and got dressed then hit up the bagel shop at the corner for something light. Then, I went to the barbershop since my mural on one of the outside brick walls needed finishing touches.

I started it a couple weeks back. A brown-skinned woman sitting cross-legged in the middle of a blooming concrete flower with her hair wrapped in a scarf made of stars. It wasn’therbut now it felt like it could be. I dipped my brush and smoothed it across the folds of the scarf. My hand moved on its own, my body present, but my mind was miles away. Still on that corner. Still under that streetlight. Still watching her walk away.

I worked on the mural until my hand started cramping. The paint was thick in the air, warm from the sun baking the brick. A couple of folks passing by slowed to watch me work. Just some older heads who remembered the neighborhood before the condos came, a couple kids on bikes, and a dude from across the street who always nodded but never spoke. But nobody said shit about the woman I was painting.

She was sitting in the middle of the wall like she belonged there and had always been there. She was draped in deep brown and gold, head tilted slightly to the side with her lips curved in asoft smirk. I’d added the earrings; big bamboos that read Divine. When I stepped back, I saw her clearer than before. Not the girl I was painting, buther. Yavanni.

That curve in her walk. That patience in her stare. That damn laugh that sounded like freedom cracking through concrete. I wiped my hand off on a towel and leaned against the ladder, pulling my phone from my pocket. It was just after noon. I thought about texting her again. Something casual. But there wasn’t anything casual about how I felt. So I waited and let the air cool down. Let the sun shift. Let my hands stop shaking.

Later that night, I was back at the crib with my shirt off and the fan blowing.Blxstplaying low. Something with bass and a slow drum line. My phone buzzed and I damn near knocked over my water grabbing it.

You thinking about me?

I let the smile take over my face this time as I read her text.

Can’t stop.

That good or bad?

Depends. You afraid of being seen?

The dots popped up immediately.

Sometimes. But with you… not really.

I read that twice. Nah, three times before sitting up.

Then meet me tomorrow 'round like 7.

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