Page 33 of I Need It

“Basically… no more sex and probably no more friendship either.”

“I didn’t say anything about us not being friends.”

“But we won’t talk as often. It seems me being here in a friend capacity is hard for you too.”

“We won’t talk as much. I want you too bad. That would be like torture.”

“Okay.”

I stood from my stool and went to the couch to get my purse. When I returned to the bar area, he was standing. “Well, again, thank you for everything. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

As I tried to walk by him, he grabbed my arm, pulling me to him, and kissed me. The way his lips caressed mine, it was like he was trying to convince me to change my mind. My middle was pulsing, hoping he was going to give me more action. I knew better though. Christian stuck to what he said for the most part. He wasn’t easily persuaded.

When I pulled away, it felt like my heart had fallen to my feet. I felt so heavy. I went to the back door, and he opened it for me and walked me to my car. “Call me when you get home, Mya, so I know you made it safely.”

The lump in my throat was becoming harder and harder to swallow. I nodded then got in my car as he hit the button to lift the door. After cranking my engine, I didn’t waste any time backing out of his driveway. Before I could completely drive away, the tears had already started falling. It felt like I’d lost something special because of my hangups. My mind was telling me I’d done the right thing, but my heart was saying otherwise.

I quickly wiped the tears from my face as I glanced around to see which way I had to go. There weren’t many streets in Nome, so it was extremely hard to get lost or turned around. When I saw the highway to my right, I knew that was the way I needed to go. I should’ve kept my ass in Houston instead of disrupting Christian’s life, making him think we had a chance.

If loneliness was fatal, I would be dead by now. I had been in this apartment for a month straight, not even getting out to go to the store. I had groceries delivered. It wasn’t like I was eating much these days anyway. At least I had gotten my book done. It had done well on the charts, but not as well as I would have liked.

It peaked at number twenty in African American Romance then fell rapidly. I knew why though. I didn’t promote the book like I should have. I just didn’t have it in me. I hadn’t really been interacting with my reader’s group either. I had been sleeping quite a bit. The plus side of things was that I hadn’t gained any weight. I’d lost a few pounds. That didn’t hurt. Being a full-time author definitely packed the pounds on at the beginning of my journey.

I wasn’t exercising like I should. I was always sitting at my computer, most times, eating junk food. If I wasn’t at the computer, I was in bed. Christian and I had talked a couple of times, but that was only because I had called him. To say we had only been talking regularly for two weeks, I felt attached. It was like I had some kind of separation anxiety going on or something. I didn’t like that at all.

Going to my Keurig, I brewed a cup of coffee and went back to my laptop. I’d already outlined the next book. I began the story last week. Not so surprisingly, the main male character was tall, light skinned, with black wavy hair and pink lips. Christian had been plaguing my thoughts, and he made his way to my writing. My last character was just like him, and it seemed this one would be too.

I didn’t want to be an author that was perceived as being prejudiced or biased, not writing about all shades of black men, but for right now, that was who I would be. If that wasn’t proof that I needed him, I didn’t know what was. Still…

My pride wouldn’t allow me to reach out. My money was dwindling, and I’d only gotten paid a week ago. When I tried to pay my rent, I realized Christian had paid it. The office lady told me he had paid three months. I got a cashier’s check and sent it to the diner’s mailing address for him. I didn’t hear back from him about it. I figured I wouldn’t though. He didn’t send it back, but I hadn’t talked to him at all since then.

I tried calling him to make sure he’d gotten it, but he didn’t answer, and he hadn’t called back. My check was only four grand this month, and my bills and necessities had practically eaten all of it. I started wishing I would have just kept that money. Again, my pride stepped in and said, No ma’am. Send that man his money.

As I sat back at the computer, my phone chimed. I grabbed it to see a message from my dad, checking on me. I hadn’t talked to him much either, and that was highly unusual. I sent him a text back. Hey, Daddy. I’m doing good. What about you?

Right after I sent it, a wave of nausea hit me. I ran to the bathroom and dry heaved for what seemed like an hour. I had only been in the bathroom for five minutes. I wet a towel with cold water and laid it on my face then my neck. That felt so much better. I was probably feeling that way because I wasn’t eating enough. I hadn’t been doing anything but drinking water mostly.

I went to the kitchen and made a sandwich then went back to my desk. The sluggishness I was feeling was starting to wear me out too. It wasn’t like me to be feeling like this. After eating my sandwich, I decided to do something about the way I was feeling. The last thing I wanted was to be depressed. Motion would help me out of this funk I was in.

I got dressed and decided I would go to the gym to workout. The membership I had was just sitting there. I was paying those people just to hold my spot in case I showed up. They were going to be shocked when they saw my name. My phone chimed on my way out the door. I glanced at it to see a message from Daddy.

Once I locked up and had gotten to my car, I checked it. I’m fine baby. When you gonna come sit?

I slightly rolled my eyes. Because I was a writer, my editing eyes didn’t rest, not even with text messages. My daddy misspelled shit all the time. He was probably doing that talk to text shit, and Siri couldn’t understand his country ass. I knew he meant visit, not sit.

You know what? I may try to come this weekend.

I cranked the engine and made my way to the gym. Before I could get to the interstate, I had to pull over and throw up. Every bite I took of my sandwich had come up, and now I felt horrible. I didn’t know what was going on. Maybe I was coming down with a stomach bug or something. I made an illegal U-turn and went back home. There was no way I would be driving to Mesquite day after tomorrow if I was still feeling like this.

When I got to my complex, I ended up throwing up in the bushes near the walkway. I felt like shit. I could literally lie on the sidewalk and cry. Walking to my unit, a lady saw me and walked over. “Are you okay?”

“I feel horrible. I keep having to throw up.”

“Oh my goodness. Let me help you to your unit. Where are we going?”

I pointed the way, and she allowed me to lean on her a bit. When we got to it, she took the key from me and unlocked the door. I immediately ran to the bathroom. If she had an ulterior motive for helping me, she would get away with it, because I was in no shape to be worried about her. When I came out, I saw her in my kitchen, getting a bottle of water from my fridge. She extended it to me with a soft smile on her lips.

“Thank you so much.”

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