I
Love My…
MAN
(Nicole’s Story - Part 4)
By Sabrina Lacey
Cover Image of “Nicole” © Ollyy
Cover Image of New York © Songquan Deng
Licensed through Shutterstock.com
© Sabrina Lacey
Lacey Publications
All Right Reserved
This
is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and
incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a
fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual
events is purely coincidental.
No part of this book may be
reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by
any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise,
without the express written permission of the publisher.
NICOLE
Outside Ella
I call to him, “Michael!” but he’s too far
down Stuyvesant Street to hear me. Dodging faceless strangers, I break into a
sprint and desperately again cry out, “Michael!” I’m running as fast as I can
to the man who nearly broke me. This is the last thing I ever thought I’d be
doing. Michael knocks my confidence sideways. He always does. His energy is so
much stronger than mine it makes me feel weak. It’s like I’m looking for him to
tell me who I am. But he’s also like a drug, a drug that wakes me up and makes
me feel alive even though that feeling is acquired through pain. I need pain
now, because it’s my only option. I might as well be yelling save me . That’s what I really want.
“Michael!!!”
He turns around like he doesn’t believe it’s
really me calling his name. His dreadlocked friend looks at me, but his emotions are either nonexistent or
unreadable. Michael’s though, they’re written all over his face, as clear and
vibrantly as a lit up Billboard in Time Square. He’s shocked, his dark Spanish
features creased as he squints, his hands flowing out from his body as though
to receive me. His friend gives him a tap twice on the shoulder and leaves,
crossing the street to give Michael – to give us – space.
I stop just short of slamming into his arms.
My addiction wants me to run into them, but there’s a part of my heart that’s
screaming no ! We stare at each other
as I gather my breath and intentions. He tilts his head, both agitated and
relieved. I feel the same way. What are my intentions? Now that I’m here, I
don’t know what to do. What can I say to him? What am I doing here?
Suddenly…irrationally… I wish my girlfriends would come get me. But I shove
that desperate desire down deep to the place everything my guardian angel is
screaming at me. I’m sorry, Angel. I
don’t want to be good or do the right thing.
Not tonight.
“You waiting for me to say something?” He
runs his fingers through his long dark hair, sketching my lips with a slow
look. He’s confused. So am I.
“I don’t know,” I whisper, my eyes darting
from his eyes to his lips, and back again. I want to kiss and I want to slap
him.
Michael surprises me with a jealous angry
growl. “So, where’s that guy? Why aren’t you with him tonight?”
Anger boils in my chest immediately. He
means Mark and I don’t want to hear it. “Excuse me? What guy?”
Incensed, his eyes darken as his nostrils
flare. “You know which one! Oh fuck me. Don’t look away, Nic. Just lay it all
out on the table. I’m not fucking around here!”
My eyes flash as I meet his again. “Are you
kidding me?” I’m being loud, but I can’t stop myself from yelling. How dare he
of all people tell me not to hide. I poke him hard in the chest. “You think you
have the right to grill me about anyone, when you were married and never told
me? Why don’t you lay it out on the
table, Michael? Because I lay it alllllll out now.” I sweep my hands out from
my body. “It’s alllllll out. Ever since you broke me, believe me, it is OUT
there! I’m not afraid of emotions anymore, so don’t
Love My…
MAN
(Nicole’s Story - Part 4)
By Sabrina Lacey
Cover Image of “Nicole” © Ollyy
Cover Image of New York © Songquan Deng
Licensed through Shutterstock.com
© Sabrina Lacey
Lacey Publications
All Right Reserved
This
is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and
incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a
fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual
events is purely coincidental.
No part of this book may be
reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by
any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise,
without the express written permission of the publisher.
NICOLE
Outside Ella
I call to him, “Michael!” but he’s too far
down Stuyvesant Street to hear me. Dodging faceless strangers, I break into a
sprint and desperately again cry out, “Michael!” I’m running as fast as I can
to the man who nearly broke me. This is the last thing I ever thought I’d be
doing. Michael knocks my confidence sideways. He always does. His energy is so
much stronger than mine it makes me feel weak. It’s like I’m looking for him to
tell me who I am. But he’s also like a drug, a drug that wakes me up and makes
me feel alive even though that feeling is acquired through pain. I need pain
now, because it’s my only option. I might as well be yelling save me . That’s what I really want.
“Michael!!!”
He turns around like he doesn’t believe it’s
really me calling his name. His dreadlocked friend looks at me, but his emotions are either nonexistent or
unreadable. Michael’s though, they’re written all over his face, as clear and
vibrantly as a lit up Billboard in Time Square. He’s shocked, his dark Spanish
features creased as he squints, his hands flowing out from his body as though
to receive me. His friend gives him a tap twice on the shoulder and leaves,
crossing the street to give Michael – to give us – space.
I stop just short of slamming into his arms.
My addiction wants me to run into them, but there’s a part of my heart that’s
screaming no ! We stare at each other
as I gather my breath and intentions. He tilts his head, both agitated and
relieved. I feel the same way. What are my intentions? Now that I’m here, I
don’t know what to do. What can I say to him? What am I doing here?
Suddenly…irrationally… I wish my girlfriends would come get me. But I shove
that desperate desire down deep to the place everything my guardian angel is
screaming at me. I’m sorry, Angel. I
don’t want to be good or do the right thing.
Not tonight.
“You waiting for me to say something?” He
runs his fingers through his long dark hair, sketching my lips with a slow
look. He’s confused. So am I.
“I don’t know,” I whisper, my eyes darting
from his eyes to his lips, and back again. I want to kiss and I want to slap
him.
Michael surprises me with a jealous angry
growl. “So, where’s that guy? Why aren’t you with him tonight?”
Anger boils in my chest immediately. He
means Mark and I don’t want to hear it. “Excuse me? What guy?”
Incensed, his eyes darken as his nostrils
flare. “You know which one! Oh fuck me. Don’t look away, Nic. Just lay it all
out on the table. I’m not fucking around here!”
My eyes flash as I meet his again. “Are you
kidding me?” I’m being loud, but I can’t stop myself from yelling. How dare he
of all people tell me not to hide. I poke him hard in the chest. “You think you
have the right to grill me about anyone, when you were married and never told
me? Why don’t you lay it out on the
table, Michael? Because I lay it alllllll out now.” I sweep my hands out from
my body. “It’s alllllll out. Ever since you broke me, believe me, it is OUT
there! I’m not afraid of emotions anymore, so don’t
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