Black by T.l Smith Page A

pass out. And it's never long after we have fucked. I have to tell him something tonight, something that I need to do, something that's missing in me and he needs to understand. I don't know how we will, I just hope it's not the end of us.

    “I think we should talk.” He’s naked, breathing heavily above me. My hands are above my head, being held there by his hands. He slams into me again, my eyes are closed, pure ecstasy taking over me. I manage to open them to see he’s looking at me, watching me. He likes to do this, he likes to see me. Where I can’t help but close my eyes, it’s instinct, too much, all at once taking me over.
    “No,” he says, pulling out, leaving me on the floor. He stands naked and walks to the kitchen. And a beautiful sight. His ass is sculpted, no fat what-so-ever, his back is powerful, just as the rest of him. I manage to sit up though my body is sore. The light from the fridge shines on him, making him look so much more powerful than he already is.
    “I have things to tell you.” I catch the bottle of water as it’s thrown at me. He cocks his head to the side, assessing me.
    “I don’t want to hear them, Rose.”
    “Why?”
    “Our bubble is fine just the way it is, don’t burst it,” is all he says, then walks to his room, shutting the door and leaving me out. I don’t bother following, it’s a waste of time. He wouldn’t let me in anyway. When he comes out ten minutes later, he’s fully dressed in gloves and a black suit with his hair neatly styled.
    “Going to get lucky?” I joke, standing and finding my dress, sliding it over my body.
    “Yes.”
    I swing back around, half dressed. He’s joking, I can see it now, but the joke hurt, more than it should have.
    “Where are you going?” I ask, placing my shoes on while he watches my every move.
    “I have work to do, Rose. I have more to do than fuck you.”
    “Good, so do I. I have plans tomorrow. Don’t pick me up.” His forehead crinkles as he assesses what I’ve just said. He stands there, then turns away, picking up his keys. He nods for me to follow. I do without so much as a word.
    He’s never taken me home after I have spent an afternoon with him. I’m always there when he wakes up, dressed and ready for work. He’s always right on time, ready to take me to work, without me even telling him when I start.
    He stops at Casey’s house, parks his truck in the front yard. It’s dark and her lights are out. She must hear us though as the kitchen light flicks on, so I turn to face him. His eyes stay ahead, not looking at me. I reach for the handle, then pause, thinking of what I should say.
    “Will you call me?” I ask just as my hand is on the door, ready to open it. My back is to him, I can’t face him—he’s shut down.
    “No.”
    “I’ll call you,” I say, stepping out. He doesn’t say anything else, he just drives off like nothing ever happened.

 
     

    I watch her from my truck even though she didn’t want to see me tonight. But that doesn’t mean I can’t see her. She’s outside a school, her hand is pressed up against the fence, her long blonde hair down. It flows around every time the wind catches it. She looks sad, more miserable than I’ve ever seen her. Her eyes are red and her mouth is tight. I wonder what it is that makes that look on her face like her world has been broken so badly that there’s no repairing it.
    But I can’t wonder.
    I shouldn’t even be here.
    But I just can’t help myself.
    She’s like a drug, my own personal fucked up drug.
    And I can’t stay away, no matter how hard I try.
    It’s not good for either of us, this fucked up thing we both have going on. We’re both as cracked as one another. Both as shattered as each other. Two shattered hearts cannot make it right. It would just cause an avalanche of feelings, feelings neither of us can bare.
    She opens the gate, the kids running all around the playground. I sit forward so I can see clearer. She drops to