Chapter Twenty-Four: What Love Looks Like
590 Words
Lyric
They didn’t even wait till I was gone.
Soon as Smoke kissed Janiyah like he was tryna break her damn soul in half, the sounds started.
Bedroom door slammed. Laughter. Moaning. Headboard tapping like Morse code.
I grabbed my bag and dipped.
I didn’t need to hear all that. I wasn’t tryna play third wheel to a toxic-as love scene.
I walked the whole way home.
Didn’t even plug my headphones in. Just let the wind hit my face while my mind spun in circles.
When I got home, I expected silence.
Instead…
I walked in and froze.
Zay was in the living room. Sitting on the couch. Chopping it up with my mama like he was family.
He stood up the second I stepped in.
My mama grinned like a teenager. “Lyric. Look at your man bringing me flowers like he trying to get my blessing.”
She held up a little bouquet of corner-store roses in a blue plastic wrap.
“Girl, he said you like white roses. How he know that?”
Zay looked at me, calm. “You told me. You just ain’t know you did.”
My mom waved her hand. “I like him.”
I wanted to melt.
We went to my room and shut the door. I didn’t even sit on the bed. I paced.
Zay watched me for a minute before asking, “You good?”
I turned to him, arms crossed. “I was at Janiyah’s. It got… weird.”
He stayed quiet, letting me vent.
“She found a message from some girl on Smoke’s phone,” I started. “And instead of walking away, she sent him that ‘I’m done’ text.”
He smirked, a little. “Bet that didn’t stick.”
“Nope,” I said, rolling my eyes. “He pulled up. They argued. Then they… made up. Loudly.”
Zay nodded slowly. “Toxic.”
“I walked home,” I added.
He raised an eyebrow. “Alone?”
“I was fine,” I said quickly.
He licked his lips and shook his head. “Next time, call me.”
That wasn’t a suggestion. It was a command — coated in sugar.
I finally sat next to him on the bed.
We were quiet for a while.
“I think Janiyah’s in love with him,” I said. “Like for real.”
Zay leaned back on his palms. “A lot of girls fall for the one that break ‘em first.”
“You think he’s bad for her?”
Zay shrugged. “He ain’t good. He ain’t bad. He Smoke. He do what he want — till someone make him wanna change.”
I looked at him. “You ever had that?”
He looked back. “You asking if I ever changed for someone?”
I nodded.
He shook his head slow. “Nah. First time I even thought about changing… was you.”
Butterflies. Chest tight. Stomach flipped.
He reached out, grabbed my thigh gently, and added:
“I ain’t perfect, Lyric. But I’ll try for you.”
We didn’t kiss.
We didn’t touch more than that hand on my thigh.
But the silence between us was loud.
And full.
Then his phone buzzed.
He checked the screen, jaw clenched slightly.
“Gotta go handle something,” he said, standing up.
I walked him to the door.
He turned back at the steps and said:
“I’ma see you soon.”
And then he was gone.
- Writer
