Page 4 of Mine

Does he like me?

“Nah I ain’t fucking her, but if I was, that wouldn’t have shit to do with you. I ain’t yours, and you ain’t mine. I’m single. I can do whatever I wanna do.”

A soft chuckle escaped me as I ran my hand down my neck. “You’re right. You can do whatever you want to do, Houston. You just won’t be doing it with me.”

“The fuck does that even mean?” he roared.

“It means I’m done with you! We’ve been talking for ten months, and nothing has come out of it. It’s clear I’m not your type and now I’m questioning if that’s why we aren’t in a committed relationship. Either way, I don’t like how this feels anymore.”

“Because I asked you to wear more dresses?”

“Because you said you would take me out more if I looked like her, not dressed like her. Who says that kind of shit? If that’s who you want, be with her.”

“Presly, please. Where is this even coming from? You done got with your cousins and let them gas your head up. We can talk about this shit when you get home.”

“There’s nothing else for us to talk about. You can talk to ol’ girl since you love hyping her up so much. You comment on every-fucking-thing she posts, meanwhile, you barely heart my shit when I put it up.”

“So that’s what this is about? You’re jealous.”

Jealous?

That one word made my ears ring. Swallowing hard, I inhaled deeply, trying to keepsomelevel of calm.

“There’s no reason for me to be jealous, Houston.”

“Nah, you sound real insecure right now. You mad because I was liking another woman’s shit?”

“Insecure? Ain’t shit about me insecure. I’m not about to let you turn this around and gaslight me. Me being upset because you’re drooling on literally every video and picture she posts isnotbecause I’m insecure. You like her, and you don’t seem to like me. Not as much at least. I can’t be mad or feel disrespected because you’re right, you’re single. I also don’t have to deal with anything that makes me uncomfortable. You’re not worth that. So like I said, I’m done with you.”

After disconnecting the call, I growled and plopped down in my seat. The laughter around me had been replaced with concern and serious expressions. While Paisley rubbed my back, she asked me if I was okay. I told them I was good. It wasn’t like I was in love with Houston. More than anything I was just upset because we had potential, but it was just… something about him that I couldn’t shake. Now, I wondered if that was my intention telling me he didn’t really fuck with me… not the way I deserved a man to.

I understood we’d be attracted to other people, but I’d never be all over another man’s social media talking to him the way Houston had been talking to her. That was simply disrespectful. And I couldn’t stand when a man tried to make a woman seem jealous or insecure when she didn’t agree with the disrespectful stuff he said or did with another woman. That shit was played out to me, and I’d dealt with it enough.

My phone vibrated as Heather shoved another blunt in my hand. As I took it, I flipped my phone over to see what Houston had texted me.

Bae: You can’t be done with me cause I ain’t done with you. We’ll talk tomorrow when you’re sober.

All I could do was shake my head as I put my phone back in my pocket.

This nigga.

One Week Later

There were so many bouquets of roses in my workspace the scent was starting to make my head hurt. Every day for the past week, Houston had been sending flowers to the library where I worked as a librarian along with lunch. When I’d get home, he’d have dinner or some other kind of delivery waiting for me.

A part of me felt like maybe I’d overreacted, but the other part of me was reminded that we weren’t in a relationship, and I didn’t have to tolerate anything I didn’t like. Houston was free to flirt with and fuck whoever he wanted, but I didn’t have to deal with it. I did miss him a little. He’d ingratiated himself into my daily life. We might not have been going out a lot, but we saw each other a few times out of the week and talked every day.That wasn’t my usual style, and it made me believe that’s why I’d unintentionally gotten attached to him.

That attachment, though not love, was the only reason I agreed to talk to him this evening after work. I didn’t want him to come to my place because I didn’t want to risk us having sex. Instead, we decided on grabbing drinks at Skybox Grill in Collierville. I always arrived at my destination at least five minutes early so I could relax, so while I waited for him, I read a few pages of Shanora Williams’ latest thriller. I loved reading and saw it as a true sanctuary and escape from reality.

When I saw a figure approach my car out of the corner of my eye, I looked up and saw Houston. He looked fine as always. Taking advantage of the warm May weather, Houston wore a burgundy two piece shorts set that complemented his peanut butter brown skin. His hair was cut into a bald fade and there was a tattoo on the side of his syrup brown eye. A short mustache-goatee combo wrapped around his juicy pink lips.

I unlocked the door and allowed him to open it.

“Hey,” he greeted me, eyes slowly scanning my frame.

I too had on a shorts set, but mine was white, and I’d paired it with heeled sandals.

“Hi.”

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