Page 57 of Are You Going to Love Me

Eden: Do you want me to listen or not

Maximus: Do your thing

Maximus waited anxiously, trying not to show it. Not to the room at least. On the outside, he remained stoic, unfazed. What could Eden be privy to? Him. All of him. Exactly three minutes later, her text bubbles were dancing. They’d start, then stop and repeat.

Eden: 4+4!

Maximus: What addition got to do with this?

Eden: Eight fool! You ate!

Maximus smirked, hid his full smile before settling his expression. “Aight, let’s hit the next one.”

He could hearhis heart pounding against his eardrums. The green room was full of water, liquor he wasn’t going to drink, snacks, and fresh fruit. What he needed wasn’t anywhere to be found. Blunts were burned throughout the day, and a lingering text on his phone was the only thing keeping him from feeling like he didn’t deserve this moment.

Eden: Big day, you got this.

A simple text kept him level. She didn’t understand the weight that held, especially since very few people believed in him. Respect as a gangsta, a given. Respect as an artist, laughable from the same niggas he caught bodies by. All that discouragement was being swiped away, and she didn’t even know it.

A knock sounded at the door before it opened just enough. Maximus briefly lifted his eyes from the phone to Eden’s made-up face peeking in. “You got clothes on, or am I going to have to sue you for blinding me?”

Detecting the playfulness in her voice, he locked the phone and sat back. “You gotta come see for yourself.

Eden scoffed as she walked in and closed the door behind her. “You play too much. Where is everyone?”

“You’re the one that mentioned my clothes. Thought you was trying to see somethin’,” Maximus cooly said, taking her in. Large curls framed her face and swept over her back. Whitecrop top, skinny jeans hugging her hips, off-the-shoulder denim jacket, and her pretty toes on display. The notes of amber and jasmine graced his nose, turning his body temperature up a few degrees.

“Uh uh. Don’t get carried away. I didn’t know what I was walking into. Fatima directed me here instead of courtside.” Eden looked at him, looking at her. “What?”

“You look nice. Smell good as fuck.”

A soft smile crossed Eden’s face. “Thanks. You okay?”

His eyes lifted as she got closer and then lowered her body into the seat next to him. “Better now. Thanks.”

Eden’s perfectly-shaded brows pinched the middle of her face. “For what?”

“Being you. Being real, I guess,” he shared.

“You make it easy. You’re special, Max. Don’t let those voices in your head tell you anything different. Don’t let anxiety make you feel like an imposter.”

“How’d you know?”

“It’s been my constant state of being for a while. A little higher tonight.”

“Why? You okay?” He sat up to look at her straight on.

Eden smiled, masking the fear of being anywhere near Rico or Natavia. She bobbed her head.

“Max, I’m good. Tonight is about you. And you’re...” She paused to check her wristwatch. “Five minutes from your first show. National stage.”

He grunted. “Don’t remind me.”

“Hey,” Eden hummed, turning to face him and holding her hands out. “Give me your hands.”

Without thought, he placed his clammy hands in hers.

“You gon’ pray?”

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