His Soft Obsession

Chapter Nine: Get You Something Nice

It had been a week since that night.

Since Zay pulled up on me like I was his secret and his statement at the same time.

And in that week, I stayed focused.

School. Work. Sleep. Repeat.

I didn’t let myself obsess over every text or replay that soft touch on my cheek. I stayed in my lane — just like always.

But every now and then, his name would pop up on my phone.

Short messages. Quick questions. No pressure.

Still, I felt him.

I walked into the house Thursday night, key in the door, bag on my shoulder, and hair frizzy from the heat in the mall.

Mama was sitting at the kitchen table, folding laundry.

She looked up.

“You been coming home late all week,” she said. “Where you been running?”

I tossed my bag on the couch and pulled my shoes off.

“I got a job,” I said. “At the mall. Bath & Body Works.”

She blinked. “You? Working?”

I nodded. “I been clocking in after school. It ain’t full-time or nothing, but… I’m trying.”

She folded a towel slower this time, then gave me a look that wasn’t harsh. Just curious.

“Okay,” she said finally. “Look at you, being independent and shit.”

I smiled a little. “Something like that.”

The next day, they handed me my first check.

It wasn’t crazy money, but it was mine.

I stared at it like it was proof I existed. That I could earn. That I could provide — even if it was just for myself right now.

After my shift, I FaceTimed Janiyah.

“b***h,” I said, holding the check up to the camera.

She screamed like I just told her I was pregnant with a rapper’s baby.

“You got paid?!”

“I did.”

“Oh, we outside this week,” she said, flipping her bonnet off her forehead. “I’m free Wednesday. We going to the mall, and you buying something stupid. Shoes. Lip gloss. A jacket you don’t need. All of it.”

“I was thinking sneakers and a new outfit or two,” I said. “For that party.”

“Yesss,” she whispered. “Let me style you. Please. It’s my calling.”

That night I felt good.

Like I was finally stepping into something that felt real. Not rushed. Not fake.

Just mine.

Around 10:42PM, my phone buzzed.

Zay.

Zay:

You up?

I stared at the screen.

Then typed:

Me:

Yeah. Why?

Zay:

Just thinking about you. That job wearing you out?

Me:

A little. But I like it.

Zay:

You got that check yet?

I smiled.

Me:

Today.

Zay:

You buy anything for yourself?

Me:

Not yet. Going to the mall Wednesday.

Zay:

Good. Get you something nice. You deserve that.

I blinked at the screen.

Zay:

You been on my mind more than I expected.

My fingers hovered over the keyboard.

Me:

That a good thing?

Zay:

I don’t let things stay on my mind unless I want ‘em there.

That message sat heavy in my chest.

Then he sent one more.

Zay:

And I want you there.

I didn’t respond right away.

I just laid back on my bed, one hand over my heart, phone on my chest.

Because sometimes the quietest nights be the ones that say the most.