Chapter Three: Say My Name Again
804 Words
I didn’t sleep.
Not really.
I just laid there, hoodie still on, pillow pressed tight against my chest like it could stop my thoughts from spiraling.
How the hell did Zay know my name?
It kept replaying in my head like a loop I couldn’t break. The tone in his voice when he said it wasn’t casual. It was calm. Certain. Like he’d been knew who I was.
And that scared me more than anything.
By the time morning hit, I was cranky, running on two hours of sleep and a stomach full of nerves. I got dressed slow—oversized tee, ripped jeans, and the same sneakers from yesterday. I ain’t feel like trying today. I barely even felt like existing.
“Lyric,” Mama called, knocking on my door. “You up?”
“Yeah.”
“You walking again?”
“Yeah.”
“You don’t gotta keep doing that, you know. Jamal don’t mind—”
“I do.”
Silence.
Then footsteps fading down the hall.
She knew not to push me when I used that tone.
I took the back way to school. Quieter. Fewer eyes. Just the sound of birds, cars, and the occasional bark behind a fence.
My thoughts were loud though.
Too loud.
He knew your name.
Why you? Out of all girls on the block, why’d he notice you?
You ain’t special.
But then my other voice spoke up—the one that barely whispered.
What if you are?
I made it through two and a half classes before my phone vibrated in my bra.
Unknown Number:
Check outside.
My heart jumped.
I stared at the screen, lips parting like it could help me breathe.
Who—?
I already knew.
I slid my phone in my pocket, told the teacher I had cramps (which technically wasn’t a lie), and walked straight out the side door of the school.
The sun was hiding behind clouds again. Wind blowing just enough to make my hoodie flap. I scanned the street—
And there it was.
The Benz.
Parked across the street like it had every damn right to be there.
Zay was leaning on the hood now, arms crossed over his chest, all black everything—hoodie, jeans, watch that probably cost more than my mama’s rent.
No smile. No words.
Just him. Watching.
I crossed slowly, every step heavy like I was walking into something I wouldn’t come back from.
When I got close enough, he finally spoke.
“Took you long enough.”
I crossed my arms, chin lifted. “How you get my number?”
He shrugged, lazy and unapologetic. “I know people.”
“That supposed to impress me?”
“No. Just letting you know I don’t move sloppy.”
I bit my lip, holding his gaze. “Say my name again.”
His head tilted just slightly.
“What?”
“You said my name yesterday like you already knew me. Say it again.”
He stared for a second, then stepped closer.
“Lyric.”
The way it slid off his tongue made me feel warm in places I ain’t wanna talk about.
“You watching me now?” I asked, voice low.
“I noticed you.”
“For how long?”
“Long enough to know you don’t talk to just anybody.”
He wasn’t lying.
“And you think you special?” I asked, eyebrows raising.
“No,” he said, stepping closer—too close. “I know I am.”
My heart was going crazy in my chest.
His scent hit me—clean soap, faint cologne, and something warm underneath like smoke and sweetness.
I swallowed. “You don’t know me.”
“Not yet.”
“Why you care to?”
“Because every time I see you, I can’t look away.”
I blinked, caught between running or leaning in.
Nobody ever said that to me. Not without laughing after.
Zay wasn’t laughing.
He was serious.
Dead serious.
“I don’t trust people,” I whispered.
“I don’t ask you to. Just don’t lie to me.”
I nodded slowly. I didn’t know why… but I believed him.
Before I could say anything else, he pulled something from his hoodie pocket.
A folded piece of paper.
He handed it to me.
“What’s this?”
“My real number,” he said. “Call it next time you walking alone.”
He turned and got in the car without waiting for me to respond.
The Benz pulled off, clean and smooth.
Again.
Just like that.
Gone.
But he left something behind.
Me.
Standing on the sidewalk, heart racing, holding a number written in the neatest handwriting I’d ever seen.
And this time?
I wasn’t gonna let it go.
- Writer
