Page 51 of Obsessive Love

“No doubt,” Memphis agreed. “Let us get out of here. We were heading home, and Coen started crying for an apple.”

“And you ain’t gonna tell your daughter or her mama, no,” Pyrite laughed. Nyla stood beside Memphis with a smirk that said what Pyrite said was the truth.

“Damn sure ain’t,” Memphis replied with a smirk. “One day, you’ll understand this feeling.”

“And I can't wait,” Pyrite said. “But y’all get out of here; we're about to pay, then head out.”

“Give the cashier the family code,” Memphis said, then hugged Pyrite, and they left.

We checked out, and I noticed Pyrite gave the cashier a discount code. Our bill originally was close to five hundred dollars; after the discount, it was under seventy-five. After he loaded the groceries into the car, we went back to the house, and I went to work on the cake.

“What do you want for dinner?” Pyrite asked, coming into the kitchen an hour later. “I’ll cook while you work on your cake.”

“I’ll cook since I’m already in here,” I offered, and Pyrite nodded. I was one of those people who hated having a lot of people in the kitchen when I was working here. Me cooking only made sense, and it gave me a chance to be away from Pyrite. I needed space; my hormones were sky-high, and every time he was close to me, I was ready to jump his bones. I had to be ovulating or about to start because I was typically never like this. “I saw you had steak in the fridge. Do you mind if I use that?”

“Nah, that’s cool,” he said as he looked at his phone. “The only thing I ask is that my steak is medium well.”

“Okay,” I replied. “I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

“Appreciate it,” he replied, then left.

I grabbed the steak from the fridge and tried to think of something quick to make. I decided on a Korean BBQ Steak rice bowl with spicy cream sauce and a few drops of honey. He’d never taste it because the dish was spicy. It was mean, I know, but I had to get my revenge somehow. Once I found everything I needed, I went to work while the cake was in the oven. After I was finished, I called Pyrite back into the kitchen.

“Food is ready,” I said when he walked in. He’d showered and was now dressed in ball shorts, a tank top, and tall socks. “Ay, that looks good.”

“It is, too,” I said, handing him his plate. “I make this at least twice a month for me and Yamari.”

“Y’all spend a lot of time together?” he asked as I sat.

“Yeah,” I answered. I sat across from him, bowed my head, and said a quick prayer. “If she’s not at the gallery, then she’s at the bakery with me. I don’t know how many times I've asked her to come work with me, but she always declines.”

“Because baking isn’t her passion,” Pyrite said, and I nodded.

“How do you know that?” I smirked.

“I talk to Yamari every day, too,” he answered. “I want to say we are building a friendship, but I don’t want to assume anything.”

“Stop trying to steal my best friend, Pyrite,” I playfully said in between bites of my food. “I don’t have anyone else in my corner besides her.”

“Nah, I’m trying to steal her best friend,” he replied with a laugh. “She knows that, too, which is why she is giving me a hard time.”

“Physically, you already have.”

“Now I want you mentally,” he countered lowly, and I stopped eating to watch him. “Emotionally, too.” Pyrite continued to eat as if what he said wasn’t abnormal.

I shook my head, trying not to let his words get to me, but they had. Physically, I was here; my ankle monitor proved I wasn’t going anywhere. But the more I got to know Pyrite, the more I realized he wasn’t as bad as I thought.

Knowing that he wanted me physically, mentally, and emotionally was an overwhelming feeling that, surprisingly, I wasn’t scared of. But I should be, right?

I looked at the door again before pulling a small packet from my pocket and pouring the contents over the pancakes I’d made for Pyrite. Starburst flew into the kitchen and went right to his cage, meaning Pyrite was on his way. I stuffed the package into my pocket and sprinkled the Oreo crumble I’d smashed on the pancakes to hide my work.

“Bitch nigga!” Starburst yelled as Pyrite walked into the kitchen. He looked good as fuck, dressed in a three-piece blue-grey colored suit. His hair hung around his shoulders in waves. He’d taken down his two strands, and damn it; his ass looked good as fuck. “Bitch nigga.”

“Yo fuckin’ bird about to be in a ball,” Pyrite threatened me. He went to the fridge and took out a small bowl of fruit and vegetables. “Every fucking time he sees me, that’s what he says.”

“It's your name for him, then,” I said as I returned to fixing his food. Today, he had Oreo pancakes, scrambled eggs, and bacon. I don’t know why, but cooking for him felt natural. “Either teach him something new or accept it.”

“Fuck him.” He put the bowl in the cage and looked around. “Where is Watermelon?”

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