Page 55 of Crash: Love in Scrubs
Any time I stopped to wonder if it was my loneliness drawing me to Malik or genuine feelings, I’d get confirmation that this was real. Like now.
My porch was covered in white roses and gift bags, their elegant packaging telling me my man didn’t mind spoiling me. A handwritten note was tucked between the flowers:
Hey beautiful, I miss you already – Rommy Rome
I laughed, shaking my head as I gathered the gifts. Between the roses from our first date, the ones from dinner last night, and now these, my house was starting to look like a florist shop. I’d need to buy more vases if this man kept spoiling me like this. Not that I was complaining, each bouquet made me feel more cherished than the last.
The bags felt expensive in my hands, and I was almost afraid to look inside. I learned very quickly that I may be dealing with a certified freak. A freak who tore my underwear this morning during our morning session. But I wasn’t mad because he pulled the freak out of me last night and I was still shivering thinking about it.
I floated through my front door still wearing Malik’s t-shirt, my dress from last night draped over my arm. The house felt different brighter, more alive. Or maybe I was just seeing life through different lenses. I welcomed it either way.
I opened the curtains and allowed the morning light to stream through my window. It felt like the whole world had shifted overnight. I lit candles throughout the living room and turned on my music, letting the smooth melodies fill the space. I still had hours before Samaj would be back from the baseball game with my Daddy, and I was going to take full advantageof every moment. So much was changing in my life, and I was finally ready to embrace it all while letting go of what no longer served me.
The shower felt amazing, warm water sliding over my skin, but it couldn’t rinse off the way last night made me feel. His hands caressing me, his mouth feasting on me, made me feel like the only woman in the world. I couldn’t forget it even if I tried. The way he moved, talked, touched me like he meant it… that was going to live in my body for a while. His hands were lethal weapons, skilled, knowing exactly where to touch to make me come apart. I shivered thinking about the orgasm he’d brought me to with nothing but those fingers and a mission. If physical therapy didn’t work out, the man could definitely teach a masterclass and make bank.
Malik didn’t just touch me. He learned me. Every inch, every reaction. The kind of attention you can’t fake or forget. The thought of him using those same hands on other women made jealousy flare and violence seem like an option when it never had before. I pushed it down quickly, we hadn’t had that conversation yet. I wasn’t about to let insecurity ruin this feeling. After the way I wore him out last night, anyone coming after me would have a task on their hands. Good luck. I rode him reverse cowgirl, he was mine now. That was thepussy don’t fail me nowposition.
“Alexa, play Pussycat by Missy Elliot.”
After getting dressed in comfortable clothes, I threw myself into cleaning. Not because the house was dirty, but because I had so much restless energy, I didn’t know what to do with it. I dusted furniture, reorganized cabinets, washed and changed our sheets, and even pulled meat from the freezer for dinner. All while having spontaneous concerts to old-school R&B, singing along until a lyric would trigger a memory of his touch and send heat racing through my body all over again.
When I finally collapsed onto the couch with my tea, I grabbed my phone and sent Malik a text.
Me: You gotta stop spoiling me. I’ve got enough flowers to open my own shop.
Rommy: Sorry, can’t do that. Baby you deserve to be spoiled.
I laughed at his contact name changing yet again; this man was ridiculous. But his response made my heart flutter and my pussy leak. I wasn’t used to being spoiled, wasn’t used to someone wanting to give me things just because.
My mind shifted to the gifts I’d barely glanced at earlier. I’d been so busy moving around that I hadn’t opened them properly. Setting my tea down, I grabbed the elegant bags from the dining room table and brought them to the couch.
The first bag held a brand-new MacBook Pro, sleek and silver. My breath caught. I’d been eyeing one and praying to get one before school. The second contained a matching laptop bag, buttery leather with red guts. It was so beautiful and elegant. He spent some money on this shit. The third made me laugh out loud: a pair of stylish blue light glasses that looked suspiciously like the ones worn by sexy librarians in movies, complete with a chain. The note attached made my cheeks burn.
I’m trying to sit on your couch, Dr. Andrews. Role play is optional but encouraged. - Your favorite client Rommy Rome
I covered my face with my hands, giggling like a teenager. This man was absolutely shameless, and I was discovering I loved that about him. The glasses were actually beautiful,designer frames that would genuinely help with screen time, but the implication behind them had my imagination running wild.
My phone buzzed.
Rommy: Did you open them yet?
Me: Malik Jerome Holloway, this is too much. I can’t accept all this.
Rommy: Yes, you can. And you will. You’re about to start school, and you need the right tools. It’s nothing.
Me: But the car was enough.
Rommy: Was it? I feel like I owe you some more, especially after that reverse cowgirl... let me stop before I embarrass myself. Oh, and the way you ate the dick up. I’m adding you to my accounts tomorrow.
I nearly choked on my tea. There it was again that commanding tone laced with shameless flirting. That combination always made my knees weak and my resolve crumble. I wanted to let him take care of me, I really did, but it was going to take some getting used to.
I wasn’t used to being poured into. If I got a gift on my birthday, that was a good year. Just because? That didn’t exist for me. Life itself was the gift. I had a dangerous job, and no matter how good you were, things happened that could take me away from my family. Making it home to my son was the prize, everything else was extra.
I think that’s why his attitude before the accident hit me so hard. Being a parent to a teenager is hard as hell on a good day,but when they start acting like your presence is disposable? That shit stings.
Me: Thank you. For everything. You don’t know how much this means to me.
Rommy: When can I see you again?
