Page 48 of Chemistry: The Chemist

A newfound appreciation was quickly acknowledged with a look in Eden’s direction. No one had ever sat next to me in the passenger seat, not if we didn’t share blood, and hardly then.

That position had been dedicated to her, created just for her. Without her influence, I wouldn’t have copped the new whip. I was fine behind the tint of the truck I’d purchased for Aden to chauffeur in.

“Are you going to say anything?”

There was nothing to say. We both knew how we’d gotten here; there was no need to dwell. I’d been clear on the first date. She was chasing excitement that would end with niggas on her conscience every time. Reiterating myself with words was pointless.

Action. Eden needed to see shit caving for her to understand the severity of her actions. Until she figured her shit out, a body could drop every fucking day. I wouldn’t lose a second of sleep because of it. The decision was hers. She could oblige or keep her black dress on standby.

“You could at least tell me where my date went!” She huffed, folding her arms in front of her.

To hell. I didn’t let the words out, but I most certainly considered it.

“You was planning to give that nigga pussy that belongs to me, Eden?”

I struggled with words, finding it hard to convey my deepest, truest feelings. They felt useless. There was more important shit to digest.

“Miste—”

“Chem!” I stopped her before she could finish.

“Huh?”

“My name is Chem.”

“Chem?” she whispered. “K-e-m?”

Because I didn’t think she needed every detail, I simply nodded. That was not how my name was spelled, but I wouldn’t correct her.

“Where is he?”

Throwing caution to the wind, I slammed on the brakes, mid-expressway. Horns caved, sounding all around us. Screeching tires sent Eden spiraling. Her neck twisted from one side to the other. Her eyes grew three sizes larger. I watched as her chest raised and fell almost immediately after.

“What the f?—”

“Don’t eve—” Composing myself felt impossible, but I managed. “Don’t ever ask me about another nigga, Eden. Don’t so much as think of, remember, or dream about another nigga when you’re with me.”

The initial shock had worn off. The fact we were at a complete stop in the center lane of the busy highway still had her panties in a bunch, but the fear of it all had subsided.

She chuckled in disbelief. “You have some nerve, Chem. Barging into my life, treating me to a night that felt un-fucking-real, and then leaving me to fend for something at least half as decent because I wasn’t left with a name, number, address, signal, or anything. And out of nowhere, you come waltzing back into my world, demanding all these things as if what I want doesn’t matter.”

“That’s all that matters, Eden,” I slipped. Those words weren’t meant to see the dark of the night.

“Bullshit, Chem!” she barked. “Because I’ve wanted you for six whole days and you have not been reachable. You have been MIA.”

I’ve been there the whole time.

Instead of revealing my hand, I revved the engine, putting the city further behind us. The pain in her confession had my chest hurting. Felt like fifty hollow tips had penetrated it at once. I struggled to breathe, struggled to think.

“Make better choices, Eden.”

“What do you mean, Chem?” she asked, never tearing her eyes from the road to look at me.

She was furious. So was I, but I was ready to fuck that shit right out of her. Ready to remind her of the magic we’d made all those nights ago.

Too many nights ago, I admitted.

“His nails… they were dirty. Niggas of that caliber shouldn’t have the privilege of seeing your face, hearing your voice, smelling your perfume, or witnessing your smile.”

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