Page 35 of Obsessive Love

“Good.” She gave me a big ass smile, and all I could do was shake my head. “Now, get off my porch so I can get ready for work.”

“What’s the job tonight?”

“911 operator,” she answered with a shrug. “It’s been boring lately; hopefully, someone I know calls in.”

I stared down at her, confused as hell. “Xoe, why the hell would you want someone you know to call? Wouldn’t that mean their life was in danger?”

“Doubt it,” she said, waving me off. “If anything, they are the reason for the drama, and I can get the inside scoop firsthand instead of waiting for one of you nuts to tell me what y'all did.”

“Man, bye,” I laughed as I walked away from her door. Her ass was crazy as fuck for no reason. There was no way anyone we were connected to would need to call the police.

I stood outside Fable’s door with a fruit bowl, debating whether this was cool. When I left, I expected her to try to escape or talk Mama into letting her go, but instead, they stayed in the kitchen, talking and cleaning. I watched their interactions, loving that Fable was relaxed with Mama and they were building a relationship. I needed them to be close.

“Bitch Nigga!” the damn bird yelled as he flew down the hallway. I hated that nigga majorly. “Bitch nigga!”

“Fuck you, bro!” I yelled back, and his bitch ass made a noise like he was laughing at my ass. I wiped my hand down my face,then scanned my thumb to unlock the door. When I was about to turn the handle, I stopped and shook my head. Barging into the room wouldn’t win me any points, so I stepped back and knocked. “Ay, you feel like some company?”

“Would it matter?” Fable replied, and I chuckled.

“Yeah, man, it matters,” I answered. “Tell me I can come in.”

“It’s your house, Pyrite,” Fable replied.

“Tell me to come in, Fable,” I requested firmly. “That’s the only way I’m coming in, with your permission.”

“Come on, Pyrite,” Fable said, and I smirked.

I turned the handle and opened the door, expecting to see her in bed. Instead, she was on the floor, notebooks in front of her and a sketch pad in her lap. She was dressed in an oversized T-shirt, and her hair was pulled into a messy bun that sat on top of her head, secured with a satin scarf tied around her edges.

“What’s the problem now?” I asked, looking at her, then at the bed.

“What do you mean?” she asked, continuing to work.

“Why are you on the floor?” If she said she disliked it, everything would be replaced by the end of the week. I don’t care how much I had to pay Zane to make it happen. “Is it not alright?”

“Huh?” she kept scribbling on the sketch pad in her lap, barely paying me attention. I bent down, grabbed the coloring pencil from her hand, and she quickly jumped up. Her eyes had a fire in them that had my dick bricking up. “What is your problem?”

“I asked you a question,” I replied. “Now answer me.”

“What was your question, Pyrite?” she replied with a slight attitude. “I was busy working on something and didn’t hear you.”

“Why are you on the floor?” I repeated and pointed to the bed. “The shit is brand new, no one else has laid on it.”

Fable looked at me and then at the bed before returning her attention to me. She blinked slowly as she looked me over before shaking her head and sitting back down. Once she settled, she put her hand out, palm up, and motioned for me to put something in it. Instinctively, my dick got hard, and I thought about sitting my dick right in her shit. “Give me my damn pencil back,” she finally said when I didn’t move. “You are worried about a damn bed, and I’m over here trying to plan my great fucking escape.”

“Girl, yo ass ain’t escaping shit,” I said as I put the color pencil in her hand and shook my head. “You might as well squash that damn dream.”

“Or so you think,” she laughed and started coloring in whatever she was drawing. “I am no one’s captive.”

“If you say so,” I said, looking down at her.

“I know so,” she countered with a smirk. “Now, why are you here?”

“Cuz I own this house,” I said as I sat beside her on the floor. I put the fruit bowl between us, then reached over and picked up one of her notebooks. I don’t know what I expected, but a detailed picture of a dipped cookie and the recipe wasn’t it. “What is this?”

Fable’s attention was on the notebook in her lap, but at the sound of my voice, she looked over at what I was showing her. She bit into her bottom lip before shrugging and returning to her notebook. “I was thinking of a new cookie, but I doubt it will work.”

“Why?” I started flipping through the notebook, and on damn near every page was a different sketch and recipe. “All this looks good.”

---