Page 15 of Tyriq & Teaira
Without turning around, I say, “If I stay, he will be leaving here permanently, on DP.”
My mom’s cries get louder but I keep walking. I have to. Real shit, if I stay here, the end result ain’t gon’ be good and my moms might not forgive me.
Fat, full, and carrying to-go containers and bags filled with groceries, toiletries, paper towels, toilet paper, and laundry supplies, I walk into my kitchen. After dropping the bags on my counter, I walk back to my front door and set the alarm. When I walk through my living room, I turn on the TV and start the next episode ofScandal. Olivia and her team deal with the fallout from Quinn’s case as I put my items up.
I ended up staying with my parents a little longer than I planned but that’s always a good thing. I love being around them, witnessing their love and soaking it all up. The way they attend to each other is everything and they spoil me too, which is an added plus.
What other grown ass woman leaves her mom’s with groceries for days?
When I left Crescent Falls, I also picked up my small order from The Marketplace. Then I dropped off Rebel’s containers of the lobster salad and lasagna. Of course, my mom also sent a sleeve of entertainment crackers along with the bowl of salad. I got a sleeve for myself too. They hit perfectly.
I have containers of salad and lasagna too. My eyes were definitely bigger than my stomach because I barely ate. My stomach was still acting funny so I finished off my salty chips during the drive and grabbed another bag at The Marketplace. Looks like my wings last night were not the business, so I throw them and the leftover salad in the trash to be safe. I can’t afford to get sick.
Once everything is put away, I pause the TV then head upstairs to shower and change. Fresh out of the shower, I make sure every inch of my curvy body is covered with my body oil and butter. There’s no question that after this morning, Tyriq will definitely be here tonight. I may or may not be his lucky charm and a little Teaira before his game tomorrow can’t hurt.
Grinning at my silly thoughts, I pull on my Savage X Fenty black Snug Hug sleep romper. It’s sexy, making my titties and ass pop while still being comfortable as hell. After sliding my feet into my favorite extra fluffy slippers, I take my ass back downstairs. I grab my bag of caramel and cheddar mix popcorn from the pantry and a can of ginger ale from the fridge then plop down in my chair. I’ve barely opened my bag when I hear pounding on my door, loud, quick, back-to-back knocks.
“Who the fuck?” I utter as I get out of my comfort zone. When I peek through my blind by the door, I’m shocked to see Tyriq’s ride. He always calls, or at least texts, before he comes over. Surprised and annoyed by his loud ass knocking, I disarm my alarm, unlock my door, and with all the attitude I can muster up, I snatch my door open ready to read his ass. However, when I see his sad, hooded eyes, slumped shoulders, and total distraught demeanor, my attitude disappears. “Oh, what’s wrong?”
Instead of answering me, he asks his own question. “Can I come in?” he utters in a low tone. I barely hear him.
“Oh…yeah,” I say, then step back to allow him to enter. He’s already hunched over so he barely has to duck before he enters. When I lock the door and set my alarm, I turn around and he’s standing right in front of me. He hasn’t moved an inch. Concerned, I crane my head up to look into his sad eyes, then place my hand on his arm. “Are you okay?” I ask.
He simply shakes his head then wraps his arms around me and pulls me into him. My arms latch around his neck and he pulls me closer. He leans in and rests his chin on my shoulder and I relax into his chest. For a moment, we’re muted. The only sound in my home isScandalon my TV. Although I don’t have a clue as to what’s wrong, my heart goes out to him and I just want to comfort him. I caress his neck as we embrace. Seconds later, he moves slightly then I feel his lips on my neck. While I absolutely love his lips on my body, right now, I’m more interested in what’s bugging him.
“Riq, what’s wro—” I begin but his mouth covering mine stops my words. He’s kissing me so deeply it feels like he’s sucking my tongue out of my mouth. Reluctantly, I pull back. “Riq, come o—” I try again and again, his mouth is all over mine. After placing my hands on his chest, I gently push him and he stops.
“What’s wrong?” he grunts.
“You tell me.” My hand caresses the side of his face. “Please, tell me.”
His arms wrap around me then he leans in and runs his tongue over my shoulder. His big hands move to my ass and he squeezes. “Do you really want to talk?” he whispers into my ear.
“Yes. Looks like you really need it. Come on. Tell me what’s wrong,” I plead while staring into his eyes.
Slowly, he shakes his head then drops his hands. He takes a few steps back. “Talking is for relationships,” he says, throwing my words from this morning back in my face.
“Friends talk too,” I counter, then step back into his space. “You know I care about you.”
“Nah. Ion know shit,” he says and his words are harsh, a little too harsh, but they don’t match his sad eyes. If he is angry,it’s clearly not at me so I’ll give him grace. A little. Because while I’m very compassionate, I’m nobody’s pushover.
“Even if I believed you, nothing changes, because I do care. Something’s wrong and I think you need to talk about it.”
“Ion wanna talk about it.”
“Can we at least sit down? Get comfortable? Maybe you might want to then.”
“What I want to do, you ain’t wit’ it; so maybe I should just dip.”
“That’s on you but you came here, remember? And I’m not forcing you to stay. You’re free to do whatever the hell you want. But if you want to talk, I’ll be over there,” I tell him.
Leaving him by the door, I walk to my sectional. I sit there instead of my chair in case he gets over whatever has him pissed and wants to join me. I restart my episode ofScandaland take a sip of my ginger ale. Before pouring popcorn in my hand, I glance up at him. He’s standing there with his hands in his pockets staring at me. I lock eyes with him for less than a minute then turn my attention back to my show and my popcorn.
For about five minutes, he stands and stares. His eyes dart occasionally to my door, but for the most part, they remain on me. It’s obvious that he wants to stay but something, or maybe just his stupid male ego, is preventing him from following his mind. So I extend an olive branch.
“Want some popcorn?” I ask, holding in my smirk as he merely shakes his head. His ego is definitely egoing. “It’s good,” I offer, then shrug.
When he doesn’t budge, I eat my popcorn, drink my ginger ale, and watch my show. About ten minutes later, he asks, “Can I use your bathroom?”
