The Homeboy and The Virgin

22-Duke

Chapter 22—Duke

 

 

 

The minute I stepped into my house, the numbness faded, being replaced by anger. I wanted to find Junior, choke her, and, at the same time, I wanted to kiss her, continue what I started last night. Try as might, I couldn’t forget the way she moved against me, with me, next to me, underneath me…. But you will¸ I promised myself, pushing the door open to my house.

    Sitting on the sofa was Laila, a smirk on her face. “I knew she’d do it. And I knew you’d come back. You always come back to me.”

    Normally, I would’ve tolerated her bullshit. I would’ve let her wrap her arms around my neck and kiss me until Junior went away—but I was tired of Laila, too. Tired of Laila being there, running my life. Because if it wasn’t for her, there would be no Junior. Or, if it wasn’t for her, there would’ve been no bet about Junior’s heart, and maybe I could’ve carried on a normal relationship with her.

   Instead of replying, I stalked past her, pulling off my clothes as I went. I needed a scalding hot shower—one that would burn my skin, burn the feeling of Junior off. I’d be damned if I couldn’t still smell her on my clothing. One part lavender, another part something else I couldn’t identify that reminded me of laying down in a field with the sun on my face. As if I had ever laid down in a field with the sun on my face.

   My jacket slid down the stairs. My shirt fell on the steps towards the middle. One shoe on, one shoe off. I unbuckled my jeans. Laila was quickly behind me, her hands undoing more of what I had done. I wanted to let her, wanted her to finish what I had started. Maybe Laila could take away Junior.

   But I wasn’t falling into this trap.

   I brushed her hands away. “Stop, Laila. I’m not in the mood,” I snapped, but she grabbed my wrists, guiding me into the room and closing the door behind me. She stood on her tip-toes, her lips at my neck, moving down across my chest. “Stop.”

   She looked at me curiously. “Isn’t this what you want? It always makes you feel better.” It always makes you deal with me for a few more days, at least, was what she wanted to add, but she wisely kept her mouth shut. She returned her lips to my neck, moving up this time.

   I clenched my teeth together. “Laila, I am not in the mood right now.”

   She smiled. “That’s okay. I know how to get you in the mood.” She brushed her hands lightly against my waist, where my pants were unbuckled. With her other hand, she ran it up my chest, running a finger through each line in my chiseled chest. Yeah, those were my soft spots. But I wasn’t in the mood.

   I took a deep breath, changing my attempts. “Aren’t you pregnant?” I demanded, knowing full well she was. Her baby bump was showing. “How would Crank feel?”

   Her hands froze and a murderous look crossed her face. “I don’t want to talk about him.”

    Knowing I had hit a sore spot, I took a step back and pressed on. “Why? Because he left you instead of the other way around? Did he finally realize you were gonna move back and forth between the two of us until you had a baby for one of us and got us trapped into either marrying you or giving you all our money on child support?” I demanded, glaring at her.

   Her bottom lip quivered. “No—I don’t wanna talk about it.”

   “Well too damn bad! Why’d you come back, Laila? Why. Did. You. Come. Back?” I got into her face then, putting my hands on either side of her so she couldn’t move. “You go nowhere until I get an answer.”