chapter twelve

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Devontae and I's kiss on Sunday has had me swirling with emotions I've felt before that I thought I had long buried and I'm overthinking everything in the process

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Devontae and I's kiss on Sunday has had me swirling with emotions I've felt before that I thought I had long buried and I'm overthinking everything in the process. We never even addressed it, okay he tried, and I avoided addressing it because we've already had sex and we were able to get over it but now with the kiss we crossed a boundary we can never go back to so it's better to just pretend as if nothing happened for both our sake, hoping it'll go back to normal.

There's no denying the sexual tension whenever we're together and as well as the way I catch him looking at me like he has something to say but won't. It bothers me honestly because for as long as I've known Devontae, he has managed to show indifference in every given situation, he's not easy to read and it frustrates me.

I don't enough time to obsess over it enough because today is submission day. We do the last minute touches and I sit in front of the screen of my laptop, scared to click on the submit button.

Regardless of the weird space the both of us are in right now, Devontae shoots me a smile that diminishes me nerves a little. "Why are you hesitating?"

"I don't know ─" I sigh and place the laptop on the bed, next to me, "it's just ─ I don't know." He joins me, plopping right down on the mattress. "Would you feel better if I submitted it?"

I nod silently and I close my eyes as he takes the laptop from next to me. "Done." I open my eyes and I see the document has uploaded and I release a deep breath. "Would you feel better if I get you ice cream?" He offers and a smile from ear to ear appears on my face.

...

"This is fucked up." I say looking at the screen. take a deep breath in through my nose and get up slowly. I feel like this is dream and I need to wake up.

Every headline, every Instagram photo, every article all have the same title. Black man arrested on suspicion of using a counterfeit $20 bill killed in police custody. Nothing about this makes sense. You put your knee on a man's neck for ten whole minutes while he lies there with his face on the ground, defenceless. You already cuffed him what more was he gonna do? All this over a fake dollar bill?

As I read more online articles, my body begins to tremble in anger and defeat, trembling like I've drunk ten cans of Red Bull. "Y'all seen the news?" Sasha says arriving at the apartment from her midday lecture. I've been home all day, not in the mood to attend class in the state I'm in.

I feel Devontae's hand travel down from my upper arm down to my wrist then his hand finds mine and he intertwines our fingers. The small but sweet gesture makes me looks up at him and he squeezes my hand. I take in one last breath through my nose, I force myself to get my breathing back to normal.

"Four hundred years of suffering and we still have to deal with such bull." I say, "the acceptance of Black people. We're four hundred years into the new world yet people still cannot accept the fact our colour should be factor as to why someone hates us."

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