never work out well for anybody. Not me, and certainly not her. So, I hurried quicker and hoped to escape.
"Hey!"
It was her voice. That friendliness and airy lilt, threatening to turn on the light, and I took a glance over my shoulder. But she hadn't been talking to me. It was someone else, presumably one of her aforementioned cousins, and I breathed out the relief and breathed in the disappointment as I went to climb on the back of my bike and take off for Cee’s place.
***
“Jesus, Blake,” Cee groaned in protest, and I rolled to the side, unable to hide my frustration. “Aggressive, much?”
“Sorry,” I muttered with defeat, sitting up and draping my arms over my knees.
“What’s up with you tonight?” She lit a cigarette to add to the scent lingering in her sheets and in her hair. I never liked the smell of cloves and smoke much, and maybe that was another reason we would never have more than the occasional hook-up. But it was still so uniquely her, and I breathed in that smoke, finding comfort in knowing I was here. With Cee, and not back at the club with Audrey.
“Nothing,” I lied, not wanting to get into it.
“Yeah, okay,” she drawled around an eye-roll. “How many times have we slept together?”
“I don’t know,” I shrugged.
“Yeah, me neither,” she laughed lightly through her nose, “but it’s been enough for me to know you always get off, and tonight, you didn’t. So, what’s up?”
I didn’t want to get into it. There was no reason to, and what the hell would I say, anyway? That seeing the chick with the butterfly tattoo had shaken me up so thoroughly, I couldn’t come? It was absurdly pathetic, not to mention completely uncharacteristic of me to let something so meaningless bother me, so I merely lifted a hand and waved it flippantly.
“It’s just been a long week, I guess,” I said, offering her an explanation that wasn’t entirely a fabrication of the truth. “I thought this would help me relax, but I guess not.” I glanced over my shoulder at her with her dreadlocks fanned out against the pillow. I mustered a smile and added a genuine, “Sorry.”
Clipping my shoulder with her knuckles, she replied, “Hey, you still got me off, so there’s nothing for you to be sorry for,” and she laughed.
“You’re welcome,” I drawled, chuckling.
“Maybe you just need to sleep. I mean, when was the last time you got some really, really great sleep?”
I shook my head. “I don’t even know.”
Her hand laid against my shoulder and her clawed fingers squeezed gently. The touch was that of a friend and I found a gentle comfort in it as I sighed. “Then maybe that’s all you need.”
“Maybe,” I replied, nodding and wishing it was that easy.
“Anyway, um, I actually wanted to talk to you about something,” she said, removing her hand from my shoulder.
No conversation starting that way ever went well. “Yeah?”
"I wanna start dating again,” she blurted out, finally putting the cigarette to her lips.
I shrugged and turned toward the door. “Okay. Good for you.”
“So, I'm no longer available for booty calls," she further explained before taking a puff and holding the smoke in her lungs.
Laughing, I shook my head. “Was tonight a parting gift or some shit?”
“God, no!” she shouted, voice strained by tense lungs, and clapped a hand over her mouth as she coughed, startled by the volume of her own voice and her eyes went wide. Lowering her hand slowly, she repeated in a hiss, “No. Jesus Christ, Blake, of course not.”
“I was kidding, Cee, it’s fine.”
"I'm sorry," she added quietly.
"Really. It's cool," I assured her, masking the sting of rejection with a chuckle.
"You know, maybe you should find someone, too," she suggested. "You're not getting any younger and you're a great guy. There's gotta be some little witch out there just dying to find her dark prince."
"Oh, yeah. They're just lining up," I chided sardonically. "But seriously, you know I can't make that shit work. I have too much going on and I can't focus on a relationship. Casual shit is best for me." Then I caught myself before I launched into a total pity fest. Before I could make her feel guilty for ending what we’d always known was a temporary thing. "But really, I'm good.”
“You sure?”
“Yes,” I stated firmly as I got out of bed to get dressed, unable to shake the loneliness that hung over me in the dark that had once felt