Page 62 of Are You Going to Love Me

Eden chewed the inside of her cheek. “I like it when you hold me, could you do that again?”

“Heard you.”

Their personal pies came, they drank Urban Crust’s specialty lemonade from red solo cups, cleaned up, and watched a few movies, and Maximus offered her what she needed. Unbeknownst to Eden, the way she held him back in her sleep was healing. Hearing herself snort in her sleep, Eden popped her eyes open. Movies were still playing on the streaming service, Maximus was snoring, his face resting in the crook of her neck and his hold still firm.

His hold was too much, this closeness too much. It felt too real. Like if she were here when he woke up, there would be expectations. There was a tug of war between what her heart craved and the pain her brain was making her recall. Eden would find herself loving him, exposing her heart, and being devastated that it was mishandled.

“Get up,” her brain grumbled, making her limbs untangle themselves from his.

Surprisingly, it was painful. That was more alarming than any potential destruction.

Out of his hold, Eden quietly grabbed her things, grabbed her phone, and shoes, and tip toed out of the living room. When she got closer to the door, she confirmed her JoyRide from earlier and slid out into the night.

"Good morning!”Staysha sang as Eden strolled into her apartment, headphone-covered ears and sprinkles of sweat over her exposed skin.

It’d been two days since she left Maximus like a thief in the night. He’d called, he’d texted, and she couldn’t bring herself to answer. He was doing something to her, and it wasn’t fair. It was nerve-wrecking.

Eden squinted as if she were seeing people, removing the headphones and quipped, “look who got off dick long enough to come see me.”

“Oh, don’t do that. I called you and you didn’t answer, I texted you and you didn’t answer. Who would you rather have sitting here? Me or MB.”

Eden’s eyes darted around the space.

“Relax, he’s not here. He’s in meetings all day. But you should be ashamed, that man is borderline in love with you.”

Eden twisted up her face as if it weren’t true, as if she didn’t see herself rolling right off the deep end because being around him felt like all the things she’d never had. She stopped the thought – attempted to cut it off at the knees every time it popped into her mind.

“I think you’re looking too deep into this,” Eden prompted.

“I figured you’d say some bullshit like that. I figured. Check your phone.”

Eden rolled her eyes and pulled her phone out of the workout shorts she wore. Tapping the attachments from Staysha, her eyes trailed over the photos of them courtside, the walk before his performance, the pinky promise, and the looks they shared. There was a spark the night they officially met, and the spark was now a small flame for Eden because she needed to control it.

What was coming for her was a wildfire she wouldn’t be able to control, nor how earth-shattering it would feel. Once the embers settled, she’d know that right by his side was where she was made to be.

Her stomach fluttered with the butterflies that he placed there as she swiped through the photos, and then there was that pain. The same pain she felt ungluing herself from his arms in the dead of the night and leaving him there.

“Why are you showing me these?” Eden huffed, locking her phone as his name popped up, indicating another text message.

“Because, sister, you are out of your mind. You went from living in Natavia’s shadow to lying in bed for days, feeling like you weren’t worthy. Coming alive on set and spending time with MB, so much time that the internet literally thinks you two are a thing. And just... let’s be so fucking for real, did you not see that man pop up and stand in front of you at that game?”

Eden closed her eyes and swallowed the lump forming in her throat. “Which I feel guilty as fuck for because that was his night, it shouldn’t have ever been made about me.”

“But yet he did. Do you get that? That he thinks that highly of you to stand in front of you to a nigga he could probably stomp out and find joy in it.”

Eden hummed and shrugged, not finding a lie in that statement at all. “Excuse me, while you’re beating down my door, don’t you have a man or something?”

Staysha flipped her the bird. “You’re deflecting.”

Her phone buzzed with another text. She groaned.

“That’s him again?”

Eden winced.

“Keep fuckin’ around, he’s going to be doing two things – kicking in that door or moving on. He’s lost years of his life, don’t waste anymore of his time because you’re scared.”

“Is that why you’re here for real? To make me run back to that man and jump his bones, get folded up like a chair, be jumping out of his bushes, and everything else? Is that what you want? Because that’s where this is headed if I answer a text or pick up the phone. I can’t survive that, Staysha. I have no idea how not to survive, and I'm trying to survive.”

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