Can't Let Go - A Contemporary BWWM Romance (16 page)

“How
long ago did you date?” I asked.

“I
dumped him right before I met Antoine, so maybe a little over a year ago?” she
said as she stared up at the ceiling. “Yeah, that should be right.”

“So
you only dated for a few months, and a year later he’s still not over you. Are
you sure?” I asked.

“Think
what you want about him,” she said as she shrugged. “I guess I just find it odd
that he moved into my apartment building six months ago and just so happened to
get the apartment right across from mine.”

I
stared down at the table. Out of all the apartment buildings in the city, it
did seem rather odd that he’d just happen to pick hers.

“He
tries to act all casual around me,” she said. “But I can still see it in his
eyes.
That crazy side of him.
That look he gave me
when I dumped him. Gives me chills to this day.”

“So
why did you agree to go out with us that night after the banquet?” I asked. “If
he’s this psychotic stalker that gives you the creeps?”

She
took a defensive stance and sat up straight. “I did it for Julianne. I’d do
anything for her. Plus it was such an awkward conversation to have right then
and there. What could I do?”

She
had a point.

“Look,”
she said. “I don’t mean to burst your bubble. I’m sure you think he’s great and
all, but all I know is Antoine and I are moving out the minute my lease is up.
Kevin needs to move on.”

She
looked down at her watch.

“I
have to get going,” she said as she took a final sip of her coffee.

“Okay,”
I said. “Thanks for meeting up with me.”

She
smiled briefly and fled the coffee shop. The meeting was over just as soon as
it’d started, but I’d heard all I needed to know.

“I
knew it,” I seethed as I flung the door open to our apartment and threw my
purse down on the chair.

“What?”
LaLa asked, looking up from the T.V. “How’d it go?”

“Kevin
for sure dated Ayla,” I said. “And he pretty much stalked her. He moved into
her apartment building to be closer to her, for crying out loud. Who the hell
does that?”

“Huh,”
LaLa replied as she raised one eyebrow. “That is pretty disturbing, but
everything sort of makes sense now.”

“They
only dated a few months,” I said. “Over a year ago. And he’s still hung up on
her.”

“Let’s
be honest,” she replied. “A lot of guys seem to have a hard time getting over
her. She’s gorgeous.”

“You’re
not helping,” I said as I plopped down.

“Even
Demarius brings her up from time to time,” she replied.

“And
it doesn’t bother you?”

“No,”
she said. “It did at first, but I know he doesn’t have an ice cube’s chance in
Hell at ever getting back with her. And he knows that. And it’s not like he
talks about her all the time. He talks about her like you’d talk about an old
friend.”

“Wow,”
I said. “Good for you for being cool about it.”

“He
doesn’t get weird about her like Kevin does, though,” LaLa added. “If he got
all weird about her, then that would raise a flag to me.”

I
let out an exasperated sigh and covered my face with my hands.

“What
do I do now?” I asked. “I really, really like him, Claud.”

“I
know you do,” she said in the most pitiful voice I’d ever heard. “Your phone
just went off.”

“You
and your superhero hearing abilities,” I said as I fished around in my purse
for my phone. “It’s a text. From Kevin.”

“Oh,
geez,” LaLa said as she rolled her eyes. “And it says?”

IS
EVERYTHING OKAY? CAN WE TALK?

I
read it aloud to her.

“What
are you going to say?” she asked. “Do you even want to talk to him?”

“I
don’t know,” I said as I bit my nails. “I don’t know if I can believe anything
he says anymore.”

“Well,
he didn’t exactly lie to you about Ayla,” she said.

“He
lied by omission. Same thing,” I countered.

“True.”

Without
giving it another thought, I reached down and shut my phone off.

“I’m
taking a technology hiatus for a while,” I said.

“Good
for you,” LaLa said as she turned back to her T.V. show.

“Maybe
that will teach him a thing or two,” I hoped out loud.

A
part of me still didn’t want to believe that Kevin was a creep. I wanted to
believe we could make it work and that we still had a chance, but I wasn’t
going to be a pushover.

I
climbed up from the chair and headed back to my room. I had laundry to do. I
had books to catch up on. I wanted to go for a mind-clearing jog.

***
[r1]
 

Monday
morning couldn’t have started out any worse than it did. I’d forgotten to turn
my alarm on the night before. When I woke up at 7:40, I scrambled out of bed as
if the apartment was on fire and jumped in the shower. My hair was greasy from
the weekend, but I didn’t have time to wash it and I refused to go to work with
wet hair. I doused it in dry shampoo, which only made it worse, and pulled it
back into a disgustingly oily chignon.

I
slipped on a pair of wrinkly slacks and a button down blouse, grabbed a granola
bar and my purse, and headed to work.

I
sneaked in the back door and stopped at the coffee station in the office. If
anyone had noticed I wasn’t at my desk yet, maybe I could pretend I’d been
getting coffee the whole time? Because everyone knows sometimes it can take an
extra fifteen or twenty minutes to get coffee.

I’d
worked for the Harrisville Tribune for three years, and had never once been
late for work. I’d only called in a handful of times. My record was almost
spotless. I could only hope that today wouldn’t tarnish that.

With
a cup of black office sludge in my hand, I bee lined it for my desk and fired
up my computer as fast as I possibly could. My eyes scanned the room for any
hint that Julianne was making her morning rounds. The coast was clear, thank
goodness.

Several
minutes later, immersed in my emails, I heard the familiar click of Julianne’s
heels coming towards me. I spun around in my chair and planted my signature
professional smile on my face.

“Good
morning,” I said to her. I was feeling less than chipper on the inside, but I
didn’t want her to know that.

The
look on her face was nothing short of disgust and a little bit of terror as she
saw my wrinkled, frumpy get up and my greasy, half-assed up do. She was not
used to ever seeing me look anything less than polished.

Her
brows furrowed as she stared a few seconds too long. I was waiting for her to
give me some sort of lecture on professionalism and dressing the part.

“Rashida,”
Julianne said as she braced herself on my desk. “I wanted to talk to you about
something.”

I
closed my eyes as I waited for the lecture to start.

“We’re
going to feature Ayla’s wedding in the Lifestyle insert for the Sunday paper,”
she said. “I think it would be a big draw and give us that extra push for
readership.”

“Yeah,”
I agreed. “It’s going to be a beautiful wedding. It should be featured.”

“We
want to target readers from 20-25,” she continued. “Your age group.”

“I
see.”

“Which
is why I would like you to do the write up,” she said, her lips slowly curling
into an excited smile.

“What?”
I said as I nearly jumped out of my seat. “I figured I had a few more years yet
before you’d let me write anything!”

Julianne
laughed. “This is your shot, kid. I’m giving you a chance to prove yourself.”

“Thank
you!” I said. I wanted to hug her, but I knew it wouldn’t be appropriate.

“It’s
also my way of thanking you for taking Ayla under your wing,” she said. “She
mentioned you two have gotten together a couple times now. I think she really
likes talking to you.”

“Really?”
I was a little flabbergasted, but I wasn’t going to admit that.

Julianne
nodded. “I wouldn’t say it if it weren’t true.”

“It’s
nice to make new friends,” I lied through my teeth. I didn’t consider Ayla a
friend. Not yet. She was more like a resource.

“Of
course, since you’ll be writing about her wedding, you’ll need to actually
attend her wedding,” Julianne said. “Bring that cute guy you brought to the
banquet. I’m sure Ayla wouldn’t mind if you brought a date.”

“Are…
you… sure?” I asked. I wasn’t sure it was a good idea, but I refused to go
alone.

“Absolutely!”
Julianne insisted. “So the wedding is the second Saturday in April. Obviously
you have all the details in your files, but if you could show up beforehand
while they’re getting ready and interview both Antoine and Ayla, I think that
would be really sweet. We’ll have a photographer there too to snap some
candids. I think this is going to be a great piece in the weekly. Probably one
of our top pieces of the year!”

Julianne
walked off with a smile across her face and her eyes in a daze as she probably
fantasized about winning another award or boosting sales above and beyond the
anticipated margins for the year. She always aimed high no matter what, and it
almost always worked out for her. She was savvy, and I admired that about her.

The
moment Julianne and her infectious energy left my cubicle, my eyes filled with
tears. Antoine was really getting married. Kevin may or may not work out for
me. The reality that was my life was really starting to hit me.

“Rashida,
you all right?” I heard Michael say as he approached my desk.

I
wasn’t in the mood to deal with him.

“Yeah,”
I said as I smiled and tried to fight my misty eyes. With a smile, sad tears
could easily look like happy ones.

“Why
are you crying?” He looked puzzled.

“Julianne
just offered me a chance to write a major piece for the Lifestyle weekly,” I
said. “I’m just really happy.”

Michael’s
eyes moved from side to side, as if he didn’t think it was that big of a deal.
He was the kind of guy who’d be perfectly happy writing about movies every
single day for the rest of his life.