His Soft Obsession

Chapter Twenty-Nine: I Don’t Want Almost

Lyric

I woke up to the smell of him.

Warm. Masculine. A mix of cologne and weed and something that felt… safe.

But when I reached behind me, the bed was empty.

Just cold sheets and his imprint where he used to be.

I blinked the sleep out my eyes and sat up, stretching in Zay’s oversized black shirt that stopped mid-thigh. My thighs ached a little — not from anything we did, just from the heat, the walking, the dancing, the tension.

I looked around the room.

Quiet. Still.

And then—

Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzz.

My phone lit up next to me.

Janiyah💅🏽

Bestie wake up

This man got me in my feelings again 🙄

He ain’t touch me once this morning

Not even a kiss

Like tf was last night then???

I smiled a little. Rolled my eyes.

Another text came in.

Janiyah💅🏽

You good? You still at Zay’s? 👀

Tell me EVERYTHING

I was typing back when the door opened, and he walked in.

Gray sweats. No shirt. A mug in his hand. Tattoos still looking like sin and salvation.

“You up,” he said, setting the coffee down on the side table.

“I’m up,” I whispered, tucking my legs under me.

He didn’t sit right away. Just looked at me for a second.

Then he walked over, sat on the edge of the bed, and pressed a kiss to my shoulder.

Slow. Soft.

Like he was saying something without saying anything.

“You sleep good?”

I nodded. “Better than I thought.”

He rubbed my thigh a little, then looked up at me.

I took a breath. My heart was pounding.

“Zay… what are we doing?”

His hand froze.

“What you mean?”

“You know what I mean,” I said. “You pull me close. You take me home. You sleep next to me. But you still don’t say I’m yours. You still act like this is… nothing.”

He ran a hand over his face. Didn’t answer right away.

“Can we just enjoy this for now?”

I looked down.

That? Hurt.

“I’m not asking for forever,” I whispered. “I’m asking to not feel like a secret.”

He didn’t respond. Just kissed my thigh again, soft and slow.

But it didn’t feel sweet this time.

It felt like a distraction.

Later that morning, I got up to look for lotion.

I opened the drawer beside his bed — thinking maybe he kept some there.

Instead?

I froze.

Inside:

A tube of pink lip gloss

A small bottle of perfume

A pair of silver hoops

And a bonnet.

None of it mine.

I stared at it for too long.

My chest tight.

I didn’t ask.

I didn’t say a word.

I just closed the drawer slowly and sat back down, my face unreadable.

He came out the bathroom, towel on his shoulder.

His phone was buzzing on the nightstand.

I glanced at it.

One name lit up. Then another.

Three missed messages. Four.

I didn’t touch it.

But the preview on the latest one?

“I miss you. You really just gon’ ghost me?”

My stomach dropped.

He picked the phone up, unlocked it, and started scrolling like nothing happened.

“I’m bouta roll out for a bit. Handle something. You wanna stay here?”

I looked at him.

And for the first time…

I didn’t know what to say.

After he left, I curled back into his bed.

Pulled the covers over my legs and let the silence drown me.

The room smelled like him.

The shirt on my body still felt warm.

But for the first time since last night…

I didn’t feel like I belonged.