BROWN SKIN | BOOK 1

|| C H A P T E R . 21 ||

It felt like heaven and hell frozen over.

I couldn't hear his breathing at first over the phone—not that he was dead—but the background noise contained the silence of a mind in a rambunctious rowdy room.

"You called," I said, more of a question than a solid response. I was stupid enough to state the obvious of course.

Beau stuttered at first, "Y—yeah, uhm—,"

I could almost hear his brain thinking and formulating words together to say the right things. "I'm kind of outside right now. I know I didn't ask but I. . .I want to show you something." He paused. "Again."

I held my arms over my old tee and with light feet, went over to the window. I lifted a finger to push the veil curtain away. His car sat in its shadow with the engine running, blowing puffs out to intoxicate our earth.

"Well the thing is. . .I'm catching a cold. I think I'm sick." I fibbed through my teeth.

"Well get unsick then."

I had the urge to roll my eyes and glare at the phone afterward. "How does a person even unsick themselves then? Ugh." I held the bridge of my nose. "I sound as stupid as you."

" I don't know, you tell me miss-pretending-to-be-ill."

He got me there.

I really wasn't sick. Just fishing for an excuse to not go out tonight. It's been two days and one night as we already pretended to play stranger roles. We both knew better. But we always had petty fights before I guess. That's why the phone keeps ringing, texts still blinking and I came running back. Never really mad.

Beau's tone softened to faint words, almost like the muscles on his face relaxed.

"Are you mad?"

The powerless intertwined with giving up in suggestions and dancing around situations to asking how I felt. The words almost hurt, scratching barely the surface of the truth.

"No."

"Then what?"

"Just feeling. . ." I licked my lips to moisten them, "feeling and being fucked over right now. It just hurts."

I wondered if his heart was churning like mine. But all I could hear was soothing muffling in the speaker like he was uncomfortable before and he should be. We haven't talked about that night or the feelings behind it. We just held the phone by our ears until somebody had thicker skin to break the time that walked by.

Beau backtracked a little, "Ebonee I'm not making you do anything, I just—"

"No, but I'll go. I'm coming." I answered, "I want to go."

Then we hung up. And a little part of us held onto something that was so simple for some couples to let go on. As my mind raced, I tried coming up with all types of scenarios on where he would take me. Maybe dinner? No, it was too late for that, shops closed. Or a movie. . .then again, that would be sort of ridiculous. So I picked up sleepless nights and pieces of a bruised heart out the door, sneaking quietly out of the door.

I didn't feel too guilty leaving again without permission, not being too cautious or hesitant like the first time left no room in me anymore. The bad habits started feeling good on the inside. The cold night air hit me like a heartbeat, the weather always unpredictable here.