((michael liked one of my posts on IG i'm still screaming and bald bc my dumbass didn't even notice until i accidentally hit 'liked by' sfkldsj))
-
The impromptu 'quickie' ends as fast as it begins, forcing you to think about the elephant in the room during your clean up. It's dead silent and uncomfortable now, and you both know that N'Jadaka only attacked you with his libido in an effort to distract you from your almost heart-to-heart.
Readjusting your skirt, you glance back at him through the mirror and he's been watching you close the entire time. You lock eyes and he looks away, mumbling something under his breath with an annoyed shake of his head.
"Um," you start, leaning against the doorway between the bathroom and his bedroom. "So...I'm gonna go..."
He gives you a flippant shrug.
"I can come back tonight, though, if-"
"Nah," he says, waving his hand in the air. "You got plans with your girls so go 'head. And you gotta work tomorrow, right. "
The two of you just stare at each other, him blankly and you, biting your lip. Both of you are dancing around the issue here but at this point you can't make him talk about it. You know he's scared to get close to anyone, and you are too! Dating a man like Devon was as beneficial to you as dating one of those soul-sucking demons from Harry Potter, and all it did was make you a pitiful, pining mess that craves validation from men.
And you're working on that part of you.
He needs to work on his, because you want to make this work and maybe that's the stubborn part of you you get from your father but it's true.
When you care about someone, 'hurt' is apart of the package. You can either run from it or go all in; even with the risks.
Running through your mental planner, you only have two days before the weekend, a therapy session after work tomorrow and a half day Friday...but something tells you N'Jadaka may need a few more days after that.
"Did I kill your vibe?" you ask jokingly, smiling as you look down at your nails.
He shakes his head when you glance up at him, but he does seem a little more guarded than he was before leading you upstairs.
You go over to hug him, half expecting him to shrug you off or something but to your surprise those arms wrap themselves around your lower back. His hands are rough and that always makes you shiver.
"I think you should talk to T'Challa," you mumble into his shoulder. "Or.. I think you should talk to me."
He doesn't say anything.
"And..I think you should go downstairs because you left a whole lot of randoms alone with your shit."
This at least gets you a chuckle and a pat on the butt. In N'Jadaka language, you suppose that means he's not actually angry at you just brooding, so you accept it for now.
-
"So...we haven't seen your 'friend' lately."
"Mm."
Hot oil is bubbling in the deep fryer of your parents' kitchen, providing you with second degree burns and the heavy scent of fried chicken as it cooks. You've tried to remedy it by completely removing your nice new wig and leaving it upstairs, locked in your old bedroom, while you melt underneath one of your dad's old work jackets from when he lived in Philly.
