by Love Belvin
“For starters,” she continued. “I didn’t respect your decision to break up. I still cannot. And then my frustration about the next chapter of my life. A year ago, we were clear it would be with you and we’d be engaged around graduation. You’ve been distant all semester long, and it’s made me angry.”
“What do you want, Aivery?”
“I want you, Ashton. I just need for it to be right.”
“What’s right?”
“It’s something I feel, not what I can explain. That’s what I told my spiritual advisor. You’re not the same since I told you about Benjamin. I get it: it was wrong that I withheld that information from you. It was my fault you thought…what you thought.” That she was a virgin. Something that would have been so insignificant back then was now a huge red flag for me. “And I kick myself for it every day, it seems, but it changes nothing.” She turned to be square with me, forehead stretching. “What do you want, Ashton?”
That was an easy answer. “I can say unequivocally I don’t know what I want, at this point. Like you, our future together isn’t as clear as it was before last spring. But what I do feel clearly is this fucking dark shadow hovering over me. I can’t outrun it or eliminate it. Officially breaking it off with you and letting the campus know this time won’t cure it.” Even if we were single and everyone knew, it would still be awkward. We were that much of the BSU culture and would be until we graduated and left. Aivery and I had been together since our sophomore years. “This isn’t an easy fix.”
“Do you still love me, Ashton?” Her chest rose as she licked her lips, awaiting my answer.
Of course, I did. When I drowned out all the anger and silenced the cry of betrayal, there was a genuine love, concern, and desire for Aivery. The problem was those elements were all buried and the passion had been gone. I no longer craved her presence in my life. Was that temporary? I didn’t know. But I’d decided not to kill myself trying to explore it.
“If you don’t love me anymore, why have sex with me homecoming night?”
I scoffed. “Why did you have sex with me homecoming night?”
“Because I love you!” Her neck rolled. “You think I have sex without any feeling? I only give my body when my heart is involved!” The righteous indignation rose at an inopportune time.
“What type of feelings did you have for Pettiford?”
Aivery’s mouth snapped shut and her coated lashes clapped repetitively. As much as I enjoyed reigning as a world class asshole, this was a rare occasion when I wished I’d be defeated. And it was because of this very reaction that my concerns on the matter festered. Who Aivery gave her body to before being in a relationship with me was no more my business than all the women I’d fucked before our relationship was of hers. And let’s not excuse the enmity Aivery carried proudly for NormaJean. That all aside, the fact that she reserved so much information about her feelings for Ben wasn’t something I would give her shit about, but damn sure wouldn’t ignore either.
“And we’re still here.” Aivery’s small shoulders fell as she let go of what appeared to be a long, laborious breath.
“The same impasse,” I agreed with her.
Her head lifted. “How can we advance down the board?”
A slow twist of my neck with my eyes narrowing was my initial response. So much damage had been done. I had never known how quickly peace could be disrupted in a relationship—life for that matter. “If I knew, I wouldn’t be carrying this burden of awkwardness on my shoulders around campus.”
“Benjamin is not a proble—”
“He could have killed me!” Some days, I believe he’d actually tried.
And she knew this, said she had agreed on countless occasions. This had been the issue I couldn’t resolve in my mind. I couldn’t give a shit about not having her virginity. What concerned me was the omission, and what hurt was her being a confidant through the whole ordeal. Aivery and I were dating when I was pledging AOP. Just about the whole campus knew; my mother made sure they did.
We stood, paralyzed by silence, and breathless from anger. Aivery lifted her chin, the warring happening inside of her maddeningly visible.
After countless moments, she sauntered over to me, wrapping herself around my one arm and torso and pushing her head into my chest. “I hope we can move past this,” she murmured. “All of us.”
Me, Aivery, and Benjamin Pettiford.
My head rolled back and I blinked hard and successively. I was speechless, had no more to say. She’d made her position painfully clear tonight. Aivery backed away, paying me a final pleading gaze; for what, I didn’t know.
“I know you’ve had a long day with the travel, and all. I’ll go so you can get some rest.” She waited a few seconds more for me to reply, then headed for the door.
When I heard it close, I ambled over to the peninsula separating the kitchen from the living and picked up the phone. I sent over a text.
Me: You up.
When she replied “Kinda,” I proceeded with explicit instructions.
Then I made a call from the landline. I listened until the automated system picked up for the Charles Harrison Technology building, I then hit the respective number to be redirected.
“Harrison Tech.” His country brogue answered. “How may I help you?”
“I need a favor.”
“Spence?”
“Yeah.”
“Ohhhh!” he cheeped his jolly guffaw. It was infectious on most days. Tonight, my agenda overrode all pleasantries. “Welcome back, broadie! You good?”
I glanced down the corridor to the front door. “I will be.” Snapping out of it, I focused on the task at hand. “Hey, remember that favor you owe me for using my apartment?”
Al texted, asking if he could bring a sophomore over while I was back home. I was fine with it so long as he didn’t fuck in my bedroom.
“Ah, shit,” he droned. “Already, my G? But hold up! I cleaned up behind myself. We spot-cleaned the sofa, man.”
It was well after ten at night when I pulled up to the Charles Harrison Technology building. Before I came to a full stop, I saw Al, in his white lab jacket and goggles resting on his head, coming out of the side door where he agreed to meet me. But he was empty-handed.
I cut the engine on my Ducati and asked, “Where they at?”
“Listen,” he started. “These shits can get me in trouble if they’re broken or lost. Why do you have to have them, man? You can get on this new social media platform the department is coding. It’s going to be huge! Shit.” He wiped down his forehead just as if being inspired with another idea. “I can even give you a test run on the AI horse we’re almost done with. It’ll be able to walk the shores of the ocean when we’re done with it.”
“I’m not interested in a robot horse. I want the remote helmets, Al,” the warning in my voice carried. Al loved initiating deals, then changing the rules of it after he got what he wanted. Tonight, he wouldn’t win. “Are you saying no now?”
He took a deep breath, head hanging as he turned for the door. “No, man,” he muttered.
I waited while he reached inside with one leg extended out, holding the door of the building open. He then pulled out a rolling cart with two remote helmets atop.
“How long you gone be?” His lips were tight, head low. Al was heated.
“A couple of hours,” I advised while pulling one of the helmets over my head. I secured the other on the back of the bike. “Thanks.” I offered a smile when kicking the stand to go.
“Spence.”
“Yup.”
“My academic career rests on you bringing these back unscathed.”
“And that’s what I shall do.”
He switched weight on his hips. “Why do you need these anyway? You taking Aiv out for a ride? Y’all don’t need these features.”
Last month, Al and I took our motorcycles out for a ride when he wanted to show off his department’s latest invention. It was a pair of remote helmets that allowed v
oice communication and had GPS navigation and a vast music library installed. I didn’t understand the phases of developing technology and how it went to patenting, but he made it clear the project was still being worked on. We enjoyed it the day we rode out, and tonight, I wanted to use it for a specific feature.
“I got my phone on me. Won’t be out all night.” Al would be at the lab sometimes until the sun rose, working and tweaking. I doubted if I was inconveniencing him past being an unauthorized user of the university’s technology products. I started the engine, tossed him a nod and took off.
Less than ten minutes later, I was in the back of Greener dormitory. My headlights caught long thick legs in tight, dark leggings and sexy, pointy-toe heels. She stood with her hands tucked in her black hoodie. Of course, she had to add her boyish twist. Even the tomboy made the mismatch effortlessly tantalizing. I cut the engine once in front of her and heaved the helmet from over my head.
“You pull up to Greener with that loud ass engine. Wow!” Her glossed lips parted wide.
I shrugged, arrogance being a comforting companion. My eyes roved over the building. “Yeah, and?” Tori rolled her eyes that seemed deeper tonight, captivating. “Do you know who Richard Theodore Greener was?”
She rolled her eyes again; fighting a grin. My chest expanded in knowing I’d created it. “School me again, Mr. BSU.”
A small snicker fluttered in my belly. “Greener was the first African American to graduate from Harvard. And in case you didn’t know, Blakewood’s mantra, on the low, is fuck Harvard; we’re better. He went on to be a dean, I believe at Howard, which is noble, I guess. But our second mantra—on the low—is fuck Howard; we’re better.”
Laughter spurt from her lips. “You’re too stupid to be so smart.”
I nodded, accepting that summary of myself.
When she quieted, I gave a neck bow. “You’re welcome.”
“What?”
“Your texts from last Tuesday. You said thanks for the phone, clothes, and shoes without my prompting.” I thumbed my chin. “Good girl.” I couldn’t help the groan in that last sentence.
Instantly, her features morphed into that of a ten-year-old’s, her eyes falling away, cheeks descending. Gazing into the distance, she asked, “You came all the way over to Greener to be a smart ass?” Tori bit her bottom lip when her eyes returned to me.
“I came to say thank you, too.”
“For what?”
I pulled the second helmet from the holding. “For blowing your flight allowance this semester on coming to check on my crying ass all the way in Jersey.” That look of child-like innocence had returned, and I lost Tori’s eyes again. “How did you know I’d need it?” I tried for a softer tone, not wanting to turn her off.
“When my Margaret died, I felt alone.”
“And you didn’t want that same state of mind for me?”
Tori peered at me deeply before shrugging. “You’ve been a mean asshole to me, but the friendliest and…” Her regard fell to her Louboutins. Then her eyes rolled up to me again. “…generous. I ain’t know what type of support you had. Didn’t know you had such a big family.”
“But you know I’ve got a girl.” My regard leveled with hers.
Her eyes rolled at that implication. Yes, the asshole reared its head, but I couldn’t help it. Something identifiable—something sadist in me delighted in my cruelty to her. It was similar to the satisfaction I took in gifting her shit. I enjoyed fucking with Tori McNabb.
I tossed my chin. “C’mon, Nabby-girl, let’s ride out.”
Her eyes blossomed. “Me? On there?”
I nodded, grinning mildly. “With me, yes.”
“I—I ain’t never been on no motorcycle, boy.”
I patted the seat. “Then I’ll be your first ride.” I smirked.
Tori paid a few seconds to consider it. When she stepped off the curb relief flowered in my belly. I assisted with the helmet until I felt it wouldn’t cover her head. When I lifted it off, her hand went to her ponytail. It was obstructing the helmet. Without permission, I yanked at her scrunchie until her woolen hair was released and fingered it to the nape of her neck. Tori stood stock still with parted lips as I had my way with it.
“There.” I smiled. “We made it work. Now come on.” I gestured behind me. “You can hang onto my shoulders like a girl, if you need to.” Grinning arrogantly, I faced ahead.
Tori didn’t need my shoulders. She positioned herself to swing her right leg over the bike. But she tried to avoid touching me when adjusting herself onto the seat. The space between our seats was narrow and she couldn’t ride holding onto it.
I reached behind, placing her heels on the respective metal bars. Next, I found her trembling hands and placed them on my waist. Then I tapped the button I recalled allowing us to communicate through the helmets.
“This is a contact sport, Nabby-girl. You’re gonna have to squeeze your thighs around me.”
The sharp inhale echoed through the speaker in my helmet made me snicker. I powered the engine and pushed off.
We were silent cruising through campus. Once outside, I picked up speed and traveled down a road I knew would get us to where I wanted to go: nowhere.
To kick off our journey, I asked, “Are you ready for Tuesday?”
Her second fight of the semester was here at Blakewood in two days.
“I’m ready in my sleep. I stay ready.”
“Good.” The sweet force of air felt amazing and the moon chased us. Sounds of the roaring engine competed with that of her breath in my ears, thanks to these helmets. “Now, tell me more about your Margaret.”
I felt Tori’s arms and thighs flash-squeeze around me before relaxing. After a spell, I heard soft, comforting, and intriguing swishes.
“She told me to never fall for long distance truck drivers or guys who ride motorcycles.”
I laughed. “Why?”
“My Margaret said they’re loners and not good companions. But men who ride motorcycles are worse.”
“Why?”
“Because they purposely choose a small vehicle with high speed to not carry baggage and to get out of dodge in a hot ass hurry. And they love with the passion they ride with, but the speed, too.”
I laughed. “You believe that shit?”
“I believe everything my crazy Margaret said. Yup.”
I hadn’t laughed so hard and merrily in what seemed like forever. “So, you’ll never date a long-distance truck driver or a dude with a motorcycle because of what she said?”
“Oh, I’ll never date.”
Shit…
15
-Then-
She still hasn’t sent me a dime…
I didn’t want to think about that, but I had to. It was now safe to. I could now think about how I’d been away from home for close to three months without the money that was rightfully mine. My mother hadn’t been returning my calls either. She did call my room and left a message two weeks ago when I was in class, saying not much of shit at all. But that was better than Cut. He hadn’t called, and I seriously doubted he’d been in touch with Trisha to see how I was faring away at school.
Fuck them! screamed in my echoing head.
As the guy from Walden University, where my opponent was from, watched, Trisha cut the last roll of gauze with special scissors, ready to move on to the roll of tape. My wrist and knuckles were covered in white gauze while my palm and fingers were bare. The sight of a gauzed hand excited me deep within. I made sure to stretch my fingers out and extend my arm as it rested over a thick towel for cushion on the back of a folding chair I sat in.
“Feels good?” Trisha asked, wrapping the tape around.
I nodded. “Yeah, good.”
“Your eyebrows are amazing.” She winked, attention quickly returning to my hand. “Your hair looks good, too.”
That made my mind go where it didn’t belong. Ashton. Yesterday, he’d arranged for hair, nail, and pedicure appointments. And his gener
osity didn’t end there. Apparently, I had an account similar to some of the bratty princesses on campus, whose parents loaded money on their BSU grooming accounts so they could stay prettied up. I felt it was silly, but more than that, I thought it was something he liked. Like, girls with their hair, nails, and feet done. And because Ashton Spencer liked it, it foolishly intrigued me and I went along with. Just like I went along with the clothes, the cell phone bill, and him calling me up at ten o-clock on Sunday night, telling me what shoes to wear to meet him behind my dorm.
Was I stupid? Would I just do whatever this guy ask me to? Since when did I care what people thought of me to the degree of obeying them? I’d actually gotten my eyebrows waxed again yesterday. It was the most painful shit in life! But I did it. I sat through the pain, believing the end result would be pleasing someone. When I sat and considered my actions, I felt weak. My heart skipped a beat and belly flipped. And this was the mental place I didn’t need to be in, much less before a fight.
“Thanks,” I finally returned to Trisha.
I don’t know why my attention went to the tall, thin white guy standing over us with crossed arms. He wore a Walden University windbreaker jacket and his long, straight blond brows almost reached to his eyes as they strained over my hand. Trisha said Walden was in Northern California. I wondered if he lived near a beach with how bronzed his skin was. My opponent tonight, Kerry Hill, was a senior at the university, and had apparently just one loss and three wins by way of knockout. She was taller than me with a longer reach. Luke had been giving me the same pointers all day.
“The deejay’s gonna be up soon, Tori,” Luke called from behind me.
“He’s going to ask for your walkout music.” Trisha’s eyes lifted to me again.
