His Soft Obsession

Chapter Four: Ain’t Nobody Checking for Me

I was tired of feeling like I didn’t have s**t to call mine.

My room was my space, sure — but it barely felt like it with the noise outside my door, the heat that never went away, and the constant weight sitting on my chest. My clothes were mine, but they weren’t new. Just pieces I made work. Stuff I styled to still look like something, even when my bank account said otherwise.

I wasn’t broke-broke, but I was close enough to feel it.

That’s why I had six tabs open on my old-ass laptop, Wi-Fi moving slow, applying to every store at the Galleria that was hiring.

Forever 21. Foot Locker. Bath & Body Works. Auntie Anne’s. Claire’s. Hell, I even tried that little phone case booth in the middle of the mall where the dude always fake-flirts with every girl who walks by.

I didn’t care what it was. I just wanted my own money.

“I still can’t believe you applying to the damn mall,” Janiyah said, stretched across my bed in her Hello Kitty socks and an oversized shirt. She was on her phone, chewing gum and scrolling like her thumb was getting paid.

I didn’t even look at her. “I want my own money.”

“You act like your mama don’t give you nothin’.”

“She gives me attitude and eye rolls. That’s about it.”

“You sound dramatic.”

“I sound real,” I muttered, clicking submit on another application. “I’m tired of asking for little s**t. Edge control. Pads. A damn Uber. I just wanna be able to swipe my own card and not feel like a burden.”

Janiyah shrugged, flipping onto her back. “Well I hope you get it. Retail ain’t for me, though. I’m too cute to fold clothes and smile at bitches all day.”

“You say that now. Wait till you broke and your nail tech don’t answer you back ‘cause you still owe her.”

“Girl—” she threw a pillow at me. “Don’t play me.”

I laughed and ducked. “Just saying. I need a job. Before I lose my damn mind in this house.”

I leaned back in the chair and sighed, eyes burning from the screen. My room was hot. The fan was doing the bare minimum. Music played low from my speaker — Summer Walker whisper-singing my feelings while I tried to act like everything was fine.

But it wasn’t.

I felt stuck. Left behind. Like everyone else was out there living and I was just… waiting.

“I saw your man at the mall yesterday,” Janiyah said suddenly, like she’d been holding it in.

“My who?”

“Zay’s right-hand man. The light-skinned one with the teardrop tattoo and the dumb thick arms. Girl, he was standing by the escalator looking like s*x and street problems.”

I blinked at her. “First of all, he’s not my man. Second of all, I don’t even talk to Zay like that.”

She rolled her eyes. “I ain’t say Zay was your man. I’m saying his friend could be mine. Real lowkey, but fine as f**k. He looked at me too.”

“You sure he wasn’t just looking around?”

“Bitch.” She gave me a deadpan look. “I was wearing that jumpsuit. He was looking at me.”

I laughed. “Alright, alright. That’s your man now?”

“Yup. Already claimed him. I’m finna be wifed up by the quiet one that handles all the dirty work and don’t talk much in public.”

“Sounds safe.”

“I know, right?” she grinned. “That’s how I know it’s meant to be. I need a man that don’t run his mouth and knows how to fight.”

I shook my head, still smiling. “You’re so toxic.”

“And you love it.”

I was just about to close my laptop when my phone buzzed on the desk.

I glanced over, expecting some spam text.

But it was an email.

Bath & Body Works – Galleria Location: We’ve reviewed your application and would love to schedule an interview with you tomorrow at 3PM.

I gasped.

“OH s**t!”

“What?!” Janiyah jumped up like something bit her. “What happened?!”

“I got the interview! Bath & Body Works! Tomorrow at 3!”

She screamed louder than me. “Bitchhhh! You about to be smelling like warm vanilla sugar and direct deposits!”

I danced in place, holding my phone. “This is the start. I feel it. I’m done being broke.”

“Oh, we finna go through your closet right now,” Janiyah said, already opening drawers. “You gotta give classy but not desperate. Like ‘I can sell lotion and slap a b***h if needed.’”

“I got that black long-sleeve and my good jeans.”

“And your white Forces?”

“Clean and ready.”

“Say less.”

We spent the next hour pulling out clothes, trying things on, and talking s**t. Janiyah sat on the edge of the bed while I practiced how I was gonna smile during the interview. Not too hard, not too soft. Professional, but not fake.

When we finally settled on the fit, she nodded with approval. “Yup. They gon’ hire you on sight.”

I checked myself in the mirror. “You think so?”

“Girl, yes. You look like you smell expensive and mind your business. That’s the vibe.”

I laughed. “That’s the goal.”

Later that night, after Janiyah left and the house got quiet, I laid on my bed, staring at the ceiling.

No one knew about the interview but her.

Zay didn’t know. I hadn’t talked to him since that day on the street.

His number was still sitting in my notes. Still untouched.

Nobody was checking for me.

Not my mama. Not Jamal. Not the girls who talked about me behind fake laughs.

Not Zay.

And that was fine.

I wasn’t doing this to be seen.

I was doing this for me.

Because something had to change.

And I was done waiting.