𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐓 ⁿᵒᵗᵗⁱ ᵒˢᵃᵐᵃ|DISCONTINUED

𝟏𝟐𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄

NADIA ALLEYNE JAMES
HARLEM, NYC

She hated herself for not leaving, but she couldn't bring herself to. She sat in the same spot Estrella Reyes had left her in once she headed to work. She had no idea how long she'd been sitting there, but the sun was completely up.

Love wasn't always complicated for her. It made her rethink her life's choices. Why was it so confusing? Maybe because in her mind, it's supposed to look and feel a certain way.

To her, love was supposed to feel like a summer day in old Harlem. When kids used to be outside dancing and playing with water balloons. When the mothers in the neighborhood used to link with their old double Dutch squads and show the kids how they used to get down. When the icee man on a bicycle used to ride around the block getting stopped and crowded by hot children looking for a cold treat. Love was supposed to feel like the late-night rap battle sessions that everyone used to be eager to hear.

Love was supposed to feel like old Harlem. Do you get it? Love was supposed to feel like pure bliss and euphoria. But what she was getting felt like childish ass puppy love that was starting to disappear. Their growth and mindsets weren't matching up. To her, this was fourteen-year-old Ethan. The one that thirteen-year-old her used to crush on. Now she found his actions annoying and corny.

This couldn't possibly be the same love she used to dream about as a little girl.

Now she wishes she would've trusted her gut and left him alone. But she was too busy trying to chase a feeling that was long gone. She was trying to chase a type of love that the old her only dreamed of, not realizing she was a new person. She had new goals and priorities. A new sense of self-worth. She couldn't keep allowing him to pull her down.

The level of intimacy she was craving was beyond sex, lately, that seemed to be all he had to offer. She needed an open ear to lay her troubling thoughts out on the table. To lift the heavy burden of responsibility off her shoulders for just a moment, but all he gave her was dick.

She couldn't even put all the blame on her when she often initiated it, and that's the worst part about it. He was irresistible.

Ethan lay on his side in bed, staring out the small window. His mind on his next move. The streets couldn't help but talk about the crazy comeback of Notti Osama. Harlem's deadliest teenager yet, his brothers coming close in second. He was so lowkey with his dirty work but it surely wasn't a secret. Nadia wasn't tuned into the streets or anything violent for that matter so it made sense that she wouldn't know.

Lying to her was becoming too much. Every time he was out, he worried about someone saying the wrong thing leading to her finding out from someone who wasn't him. He knew he shouldn't have lied about dropping that part of his life, but for one it was easier said than done and two, he would do anything to have Nadia back. Even just as a friend. He needed her presence.

Not wanting to think anymore, Ethan finally rolled out of bed. His body felt slow and exhausted as he peeled back his white blanket. He made his way to the bathroom dragging his feet along. "Fuck" he grunted looking into the mirror.

His hair was out of the ponytail, hanging down wildly. His eyes were puffy and his lips were swollen. Dark marks covered one side of his neck. He had no shirt and his sweats hung lowly on his waist exposing his abs. "Damn Nadia" he muttered to himself with a chuckle as he turned on the sink to start his hygiene process.

Once he was done, he walked out of his room and headed to the kitchen. He jumped, not expecting to see Nadia sitting in the kitchen, seemingly in deep thought. She ignored his light footsteps, looking down into her lap with a conflicted face. The sound of Ethan clearing his throat awkwardly made her look up.