Thank you for your continued support.
Standard disclaimer.
'If the right girl comes along.'
Sam's words echoed throughout my brain and suddenly, the walls of his apartment seemed to close in on me.
'I'd never be that kind of woman for him,' I admitted to myself. So, I needed to move the hell along...right now.
Hot Boy Evans, was proving to be a very intriguing and mysterious guy.
There was a story under there somewhere.
Maybe, he'd been badly burned and no longer wanted to sleep around. Or maybe, dedication to one person, was part of his religion or something.
Whatever it was, I couldn't stick around, long enough to find out.
Sam was holding my gaze, solid as steel, but I finally managed to break away.
"Well," I said.
'Well...that one word said nothing and everything all at once.' I placed his coffee mug in the sink and headed toward the door.
"Thanks again, for everything. Your bed is really comfortable."
"Anytime," he said and I snorted.
"Is that an open invitation, Mr. Evans?"
The trace of a corrupt smile, stretched across his lips, telling me that, maybe, he'd actually consider it, despite everything he'd just told me.
That maybe, I'd be the Kryptonite to his very values and ideals.
And that's when I knew, I needed to make my exit.
Fast.
Yet, he'd decided to keep on talking.
"Sometimes, it's nice sleeping next to someone. I forget what that's like." I stopped and spun around.
"Has it been a while? For someone who looks like you?" He looked down, his eyelashes combing his cheeks.
"Yeah."
"Been hurt that bad by someone?" His head snapped up, and he arched an accusing eyebrow.
"Have you?"
"Touché, Mr. Evans." I could tell, neither one of us was going to budge. "Have a good one," I finished and exited his apartment.
Sam's words stuck with me throughout the day.
I kept spacing out, and Mrs. Jackson called me on it.
"You must be thinking about that man again," she said, her hand hovering over the remote control.
She loved watching her soap operas during the day. All smut and disappointment and make-up sex. I grinned.
"You are insufferable, woman." She chuckled.
Her husband had just left for the day, and I filled her vase with fresh water, for the white daisies he'd brought.
Sometimes, he stayed to watch TV with her, gently holding her hand.
You could feel the affection rolling off of them, when they were together, and I imagined their sex life had been blazing hot, when they were young and agile.
"You know I'm right. C'mon, talk to me about it." Mrs. Jackson tapped the side of her bed.
Sometimes, we'd have heart-to-hearts, while I was feeding her. She'd tell me about her life and I'd tell her about mine. Most of it, anyway.
She grew sad, whenever I mentioned my mother. And told me, my mother's priorities were misplaced.
And I could tell, she was concerned about my brother. Said he should live with me after graduation.
"I'm not going anywhere, I've got all day," she said.
"And I have rounds to make." I adjusted the Velcro on the blood pressure cuff. "Besides, your son and grandchildren should be here soon."
"Excuses, excuses. You better take a chance on that boy," she said, patting my hand. "He must be something special. You never come in here looking like that."
"Looking like what?" That was the hazard of seeing someone, every single day. They got to know your moods, almost too well.
"Like there's fire in your eyes," she said, wistfully. I shook my head, not wanting to admit to anything out loud.
"Let me guess," she said. "He's a confusing young man. He makes you feel things. Giddy and frustrated and wound up, all at the same time. Am I right?"
"I don't know. Maybe."
I wanted to tell her, that I had no intention of having anything more to do with Sam.
That he was looking for something else. Someone else.
That the most we'd be, was friends. That I couldn't even think of him, as a one-night stand anymore. That somehow he'd gotten under my skin and I needed to let him go, clear my mind of him, and move on.
But, I knew saying any of that, would disappoint her.
She was a true romantic and had a husband who proved, true love existed. At least for them.
"Honey child, that's roots taking shape."
"Roots?" I slanted my head sideways. Mrs. Jackson was always quoting something.
"Two seeds destined to grow in concert, planted together in the field of love." She took in a lungful of air and continued.
"The sky cast wet buckets of dreams and desires, the roots took shape, and the leaves tangled as one."
"Roots took shape..." I repeated to myself. "Wow. That rocked. What was that?"
"It's from a poem called The Roots of Love."
"Your photographic memory amazes me."
"When you find love, you'll start quoting poetry, too." I turned away so she couldn't see me roll my eyes.
"So what's up, girlie?" My friend Marley asked, sitting across from me, at the campus coffee shop. "Still freaked about the break-in?"
"A little," I admitted, and then, "My gorgeous new neighbor helped me out, though."
"I just bet he did," she said grinning and leaning back in her chair, like she was settling in for a good story.
"No...nothing like that," I said, watching the students through the window, strolling by on their way to class. "Unfortunately," I ended. She arched an eyebrow.
"Oh come on, you didn't jump his bones?"
"I swear," I said.
It did sounded unbelievable, rolling off my tongue.
"We just slept in the same bed. He rubbed my back and I fell asleep. It was sweet."
"No way, dickhead," she said, sipping her cappuccino.
"Way, dill weed," I retorted.
"And how do you feel about that?" She leaned forward. Her eyes, sparkling in the sunlight.
"I don't feel anything," I lied. "He was being a friend."
She twisted her lip.
It was the thing she did, instead of calling bullshit...when she didn't believe a word I was saying.
We sat in silence for a while and I got lost in my own thoughts.
Marley swirled the liquid concoction in front of her, with her spoon.
"Is he someone you could be friends with?"
"Probably." I said it like I meant it. Yet, I still wasn't certain. I mean, sure, I could be around him. But without wanting something more from him?
"That's actually a good thing," Marley said.
"Why?" I took a bite of my strawberry cheese Danish.
"So you can finally see that, not all men will do what that prick did to you," she said, twirling her brown locks around her finger. She held my gaze and went on.
"You don't have to fight off all men. Or use them. Or control them. And you know I'm not referring to some lunatic, trying to break through your window."
My mouth hung open.
Normally Marley would be bashing me, for my antics with guys, while still acting, like she reveled in the details.
Like she was living vicariously through my vagina or something.
"You're a strong, gorgeous, independent woman, who just happen to carry around, so much emotional baggage, that it's weighing you down."
She patted my hand across the table.
"But sometimes, it's okay to let someone in." I wiggled my eyebrows, making light of the subject.
"Oh, I've let plenty of guys in." That got a snort out of her.
"As a friend, you slut. Someone who can warm your heart, not your bed."
"You sound like a freaking Hallmark card," I said and then, "And a lot like Mrs. Jackson."
"How's she doing?" Marley's eyes brightened.
She'd met her once, when she'd come to my job, to take me to lunch.
Mrs. Jackson was being wheeled around the grounds, by her husband and she had insisted on meeting Marley.
They'd ended up talking for an hour and I'd missed my lunch.
"God, I love that lady. I'd take her as my surrogate grandmother any day."
"She's probably the only representation of a parental figure I have," I said. "Except I'm the one taking care of her."
"I don't know about that. I'd say it's mutual." Marley's eyes softened. "Hey, have you talked to your bro lately?"
"Of course. I need to keep daily tabs on him." I sighed. "He's still dating Angela. He's taking her to prom. I just hope she doesn't break his heart."
"He's a good egg...somehow, he has his head screwed on straight, despite that mother of yours."
Marley would never be a fan of my mother.
She knew our situation only too well, and I was grateful for her friendship.
She'd saved me, from jumping off the nearest bridge, a few times in high school.
Her parents were understanding and let me sleep over, too many nights to count, after my mother and I'd had one of our screaming matches.
But our friendship definitely went both ways.
I knew Marley's optimistic front sometimes, hid a lot of pain.
Her family had its own share of heartbreak, when Marley's brother passed away in high school.
Marley had admitted, my sleepovers helped her get through some rough nights, too.
"So back to the hottie-neighbor-friend," she said. "Describe him, in five words or less. Go."
It was a game we'd played since high school, called, Five Fingers, but I wasn't in the mood. Besides, the only words I could think of at the moment, to describe Sam, were, hot, hot, hot, hot, and hot.
"C'mon, tell me something," she said.
"He works at Raw Ink." I said it like I was proud or something. "He's also an art major at TSU."
"No way...think he can do my tattoo?"
Marley had wanted a tattoo, for as long, as I'd known her. Even after graduation when I went to get mine, she'd wanted one, but then, chickened out.
"You'll come with me, right?"
"Sure," I said, even though I wasn't totally sure.
Why did I ever hook up with Sam's boss that night?
If I showed up at his place of employment, Matt might think I was still interested. And then if he and Sam got to talking about me...yikes.
Although,, I wasn't even sure why I cared what Sam thought of, how I spent my nights.
"Maybe you could go to the shop, view his work. Tell him your ideas and see what he comes up with," I offered.
After kickboxing, I studied my butt off for my critical care class.
I needed to keep a B average, so I didn't have to repeat the course again.
Next semester, my nursing rotation, would be in the university hospital's intensive care unit, and I was excited to learn something new.
The nursing home had prepped me well, for end-stage care and crisis intervention.
And maybe, there'd be a job waiting for me at the hospital, upon graduation.
Stay safe and stay blessed.