Beneath the Leather

Chapter 10: The Ride Home pt2

Jazmine slid into the back of the taxi, her hands still trembling from the chaos at Lucky’s. The night air outside had done little to cool her mind; the city lights streaked past the window in a blur, but she barely noticed. Every detail of what she’d seen replayed in her mind, over and over, like a loop she couldn’t escape.

Why was he acting like that with her? she thought, clenching her purse so tightly that her knuckles turned white. Laughing, leaning close, touching—smiling that way. He never smiles at me like that anymore…

Her chest tightened with every memory. She remembered how Liz had brushed her hand against Devon’s arm, a casual gesture that shouldn’t have meant anything—but to Jazmine, it screamed familiarity, intimacy. The tilt of Liz’s head when she laughed, the way her eyes sparkled when she teased him, the soft, easy way Devon leaned in toward her—all of it pressed down on Jazmine like a weight she couldn’t shake.

She tried to reason with herself, repeating the mantra she’d used for days: It’s nothing. He’s my boyfriend. He wouldn’t… He wouldn’t…

But the knot in her stomach refused to loosen. Every tiny detail began to feel like a puzzle piece she couldn’t ignore. Doesn’t he text me like that anymore? Doesn’t he send me little messages, jokes, sweet things, like he used to? He smiles like that only at her… only at Liz.

Her thoughts drifted back to the earlier part of the week—the little texts, the casual mentions, the gestures she’d dismissed:

The picture of his lunch he had sent her: “Thanks, Liz made this for me. Best sandwich I’ve had in ages.” She remembered staring at it at the time and brushing it off. Now it felt like a slap in the face.

The faint scent of perfume lingering on his jacket. Not hers. Not any scent she could identify from the day, but soft, floral, unmistakably someone else.

Little notes he mentioned, tucked into his bag or left in passing. Something as small as “Good luck today—hope it’s easy. -L” suddenly didn’t feel innocent.

Each memory made her stomach twist tighter. She wanted to believe Tasha’s reassurances: that Devon and Liz were just close, that nothing was happening, that she was overreacting. But the evidence piled up in her mind like stones pressing into her chest.

Am I imagining this? she whispered to herself, pressing her forehead against the cool glass of the taxi window. Am I crazy?

The cab wound through the quiet streets, headlights cutting through the darkness. Jazmine tried to focus on the passing buildings, the occasional streetlamp, the muted hum of the engine—but her thoughts wouldn’t let her. Every laugh she’d heard, every gesture she’d seen, every little message or favor Devon had received from Liz circled relentlessly in her mind.

Her pulse thudded, her chest burned, and her hands trembled. She imagined Devon’s smile, the one he reserved for Liz now. She remembered how he had leaned in, laughed so easily, how natural and effortless it seemed with her. And all of a sudden, she realized she hadn’t felt that way from him in months—not really.

The taxi slowed outside her building. She paid quickly, barely looking at the driver, her movements sharp, mechanical. The stairs to her apartment felt heavier than ever, each step a reminder of the distance she now felt between herself and the man she loved—or thought she loved.

Inside, the apartment was quiet. Devon wasn’t there, and for a moment, the stillness felt suffocating. Jazmine dropped her coat and purse onto the chair, sinking into the couch, hugging her knees to her chest. She stared at the faint glow of the streetlights through the blinds, the shadows stretching across the walls, silent witnesses to her rising fear.

It’s not just a friend, she thought, voice barely more than a whisper. It feels… wrong. He’s giving her things he used to give me. Laughing at jokes he used to make with me. Why can’t he just… be mine like before?

The knot in her chest twisted tighter, and she could feel the gnawing suspicion growing, a heavy, cold realization that things were changing. And though she didn’t want to see it yet, she knew that each passing day, each small gesture, each lingering text or laugh was pulling her closer to a truth she wasn’t ready to face.

Something is happening, she thought. And when I see it… everything will change