Page 17 of Free to Fall

“What fuckin’ choice did I have? You blocked me,” he said. “But fuck all that, are you really goin’ on a date tonight?”

My eyes narrowed. “Who told you I was going on a date?” I just knew my girls wouldn’t betray me, but then again Nas and I were a secret, they could have said something without realizing they were spilling tea that should have been kept safe.

“You did genius, you texted my phone. I assume you thought you were texting that little group chat you, Serenity, Averi and Arielle got.” He scoffed. “Answer the question.”

I rolled my eyes and turned toward the window fully, shielding my face from the driver. “That’s none of your business.”

“It’s all my fuckin’ business,” he growled, voice rising just enough for the heat behind it to bleed through. “You just gon’ act like what we had didn’t mean nothin’? Like I ain’t?—”

“Stop,” I cut him off. “You don’t get to be mad. You don’t get to claim me. You left me, Nasseem. You just disappeared. Like…like…”

“Like you do?” that shut me up. No, I had no right to be mad about him leaving after all, it was something I did on a regular basis. But the one time I was ready to show him that I was in it, that I wanted to be safely wrapped in his arms, he proved to me why he was not safe after all.

“I’m done, Nasseem” I said firmly. “I meant it when I texted you the other day. We’re over. So, stop callin’ me from blocked numbers like we still got somethin’ to talk about.” He went quiet. “I’m not doin’ this with you anymore, Nasseem.”

And I hung up. Stared at my phone for a second before locking it and shoving it deep into my clutch. I wasn’t letting him ruin my night. Not tonight. Tonight, I was Egypt Armstrong—bad as hell, radiant, and finally choosing me. But what I didn’t know was that Nasseem Walker was far from done. And he wasn’t the type to lose without a fight.

6

NASSEEM

Istared at my phone like it was lying. She really hung up on me. Just like that. And the crazy part was I deserved that shit. Not because I meant to hurt her, but because I was stupid enough to think I could play her at her own game and not catch the ricochet.

Leaving her two nights ago was a move I thought I could control. I laid on her, damn near asleep in her arms—comfortable, vulnerable, home, and that scared me a little. I wasn’t supposed to be at home with her. This thing between us was never supposed to go that deep but then it did. So, I dipped. Thought I’d flip the script for once and make her feel what I always did.

Guess what? It worked too damn well. She blocked me. Then sent me a text only moments ago saying she was going on a date, a fucking date. I didn’t give a damn if he was a doctor, a rapper, or a pastor, I cared that she was out with somebody that wasn’t me. She was pulling away, slipping through my hands. And I wasn’t having that.

I was supposed to be chilling with Creed, Brodie, and Royal tonight at Brodie and Ari’s place. There was a big UFC match on Rodriguez vs. Odell. Brodie said he ordered some pizza andwings, had drinks pouring. And between Royal and I weed was going to be flowing as well. But instead, I was throwing on a black tee, my gray Nike tech, and a chain that I knew caught the light just right. Then, I slid into the front seat of my Lamborghini Urus and pointed it straight towards Melrose.

If she thought, she was about to sit up inProvidencelaughing and flirting with some random ass nigga while I sat around waiting on her, she had another thing coming and she had me all the way fucked up.

It didn’t take long for me to get to Providence. What should have been a 35 minute drive turned into a 20 minute drive with the way I was speeding and weaving in and out of traffic. I found a parking spot in the back of the restaurant and made my way inside.

“Can I help you, sir?” the hostess asked as soon as I walked through the door.

“Nah, I’m meeting somebody here,” I said, eyes already scanning the room. “Egypt Armstrong?”

“Oh yes, Ms. Armstrong arrived a minute ago. I can show you to her table.”

“Bet.”

She started walking ahead of me, heels clicking softly against the marble floor as I followed her toward the back of the restaurant. My jaw tightened the second I spotted her.

Egypt was sitting there smiling, damn near giggling, with some Poindexter looking ass dude in a pressed suit and glasses like he walked off a Black Wall Street Pinterest board. He had no idea the type of woman sitting across from him. He ain’t know the sound she made when she laughed for real. He didn’t know what her lips tasted like after a glass of wine. He didn’t know shit. But I did.

“I see her,” I muttered to the hostess. “I got it from here.”

The hostess hesitated. I could feel her eyes reading the shift in my energy and then landing on Egypt’s table where she was sitting with another man. I pulled a hundred dollar bill out my pocket and handed it to her without looking. That was her cue to get the fuck on. She took it, turned, and walked away.

I made my way to their table, slow but steady, blood boiling hotter with each step. The closer I got, the more I could see how Egypt’s smile fade when she looked up and saw me. Her eyes widened. Then she groaned.

“You good?” the nigga with her asked, brows furrowing.

She ain’t even get the chance to answer. “Let’s go,” I said looking in her eyes. I didn’t even look at him. My eyes stayed on her.

“Are you fuckin’ crazy?” she snapped.

“You know I am, E. Which is why I can’t for the life of me figure out why the fuck you still sittin’.”

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