Chapter Eleven: Marked(Zay’s POV)
651 Words
Zay
Most people don’t really see me.
They see the chain, the car, the way girls bite their lip when I walk by.
They see the tattoos, the gray eyes, the soft voice that only gets low when I’m either about to laugh... or lose my s**t.
But none of that is me.
The real me don’t talk much.
The real me watches. Measures. Remembers.
And right now? The only thing on my mind is her.
Lyric.
A girl I ain’t even touched yet.
And still — she got me trippin’ quietly, while some other girl lay next to me in my bed wearing my t-shirt like she means something.
She don’t.
“Zay,” the girl whispered, rubbing my chest. “You okay?”
I looked down at her — brown skin, thick lashes, stomach pierced, thighs wide. She was bad. The kind of bad I usually keep around for a couple weeks.
But all I could think about was how Lyric don’t even try... and still got me shook.
“I’m good,” I muttered.
She smiled, leaned over to kiss me, and I let her. But there was nothing behind it.
She ain’t even taste right.
Later that night, I got up, went to the kitchen, and grabbed my phone off the counter.
I opened Lyric’s i********:. No new posts. No thirst traps. Just that one mirror selfie from weeks ago.
Hair in a puff. Lip gloss shining. Hoodie on.
Still made my jaw clench.
That’s the s**t I like. Quiet. Unreachable. Mine.
I hit the sneaker site and picked a pair I been eyeing — all-black Nike Dunks with silver lace tips. Clean. Soft flex. Size 7. Her size.
How I know that?
She ain’t tell me.
I paid attention.
After placing the order, I sent the text:
Zay:
Wear these to the party.
Don’t let nobody touch you.
That’s all I said.
She didn’t respond right away. She never do. And that’s why I want her.
Smoke pulled up a few minutes later, letting himself in like always. He dropped down on the couch and tossed his hoodie off.
“You still got that one chick here?” he asked.
“Nah, she left.”
“She fine,” he said, cracking open a soda. “But I’m guessing she not the one you dropping sneaker money on.”
I raised an eyebrow. “What you talking about?”
He smirked. “Janiyah told me. Said her best friend lowkey caught your eye. Said she quiet, got a job, mind her business.”
He paused.
“Said you ain’t hit yet.”
I stared at him for a second, then went back to checking my phone.
“So?”
Smoke laughed. “I ain’t judging. I’m just surprised. You usually don’t wait on nobody.”
“She different.”
“She your girl?”
“Nah,” I said, leaning back. “Not yet.”
“Janiyah said she the soft type. Think you can handle that?”
“I don’t need to handle her,” I said low. “I need to protect her.”
Smoke whistled. “Damn. This some real soft obsession type s**t, huh?”
I didn’t smile.
“She mine. She just don’t know it yet.”
My phone buzzed again.
Lyric.
Lyric:
These are fire.
You really didn’t have to do that.
Zay:
I did.
Don’t argue with me.
Lyric:
Okay.
I stared at that little word.
Okay.
Short. Sweet. Soft.
Just like her.
“She get the shoes?” Smoke asked, glancing over.
I nodded.
He shook his head. “If this party get messy, I’m blaming you.”
I looked up, dead serious.
“It won’t get messy… unless somebody touch her.”
And just like that, the line was drawn.
She wasn’t mine on paper.
Wasn’t mine out loud.
But in my mind?
Lyric was already claimed.
- Writer
