Page 1 of Wiley A.F.

1

Z

My boyfriend rubbed the sleep from his eyes, rolling over as he pressed his lips to my forehead. “Morning, beautiful.” He smiled.

When he breathed inward, I did the same, letting my nose inhale the lingering scent from the cologne he had dabbed on his neck last night. Being with him was just as easy today as it was at the beginning of our relationship. Life with Malcom never felt forced or made things harder. Us being together made absolutely no sense to the judgmental assholes who often voiced their unwanted opinions. As soon as people’s eyes were set on him, I was certain they envisioned someone different as his girlfriend—I didn’t fit today’s standards of having the perfect body type according to their thoughts. Where his tattooed-covered skin was toned and fit, mine was softer and definitely more curvaceous. The thing was, I’d never lived up to society’s standards in spite of my outward appearance. In fact, I made it a point to go against the grain, so to speak, as often in life as I was able. Some might say I was a rebel of sorts; others—the ones who weren’t brainwashed by the hand-picked bullshit that the media fed us—would simply know I was more of a wolf in sheep’s clothing than an actual sheep.

“Morning, Malcom.” I yawned while I stretched my arms above my head and flattened my palms against the headboard. Pure bliss blanketed my body, and I closed my eyes, a low moan popping out of my mouth.

“Careful, Z. Make any more noises like that, and I’m not letting you out of this bed.” He pressed the bulge of his boxers against the side of my hip.

“Any other day, my love, any other day,” I groaned. “I can’t be late today. Corey will murder me. No questions. He made that abundantly clear when he wrote me up last week for myhabitual tardiness.” My voice was nasally when I added the last part, saying it in my best Corey voice, and I robotically nodded my head.

“He won’t fire you. He’s still pissed you chose me instead of him.” Malcom and I had dated for two years in high school before we broke up right after our senior prom, not wanting to do the long-distance relationship. It was funny. We thought it was the best decision for everyone, that it was the “grownup” thing to do. As it turned out, we weren’t as smart as we thought. We were both miserable without the other.

My eyebrow popped high on my forehead. “That was years ago, Malcom. Besides,” I shrugged, “I’m not really his type.” I grabbed his hand, kissing the back of it as I rolled out of bed. I wasn’t lying about being late. I needed my job, and despite how little money I earned in comparison to the amount of work I did, I actually enjoyed the job itself.

“You really don’t see yourself the way everyone else does, do you?”

“If you’re referring to an absolutely unordinary woman who is unbelievably awesome, then yes, I do.” I shrugged him off a little.

“Ezilynn, you are the most breathtaking woman to have ever graced this earth. You could bend the will of every man you wanted by simply batting your eyes. I’m not sure what I did to deserve you, but I will spend every day thanking God for you.”

I pulled my uniform top over my head as I blew out a small pent-up breath. I was never one for all of the lovey-dovey praise, but hearing all those words come from such a bad boy type did something for me, and yet, they never exactly set well with me either. It wasn’t that I didn’t believe he meant the words. He did. He had never lied to me. I was never able to place where the uneasy feeling that briefly flitted into my mind every time he spoke to me with such sentiment came from, but I refused to tell him about it. Of course, it made me a shit for not being as honest with him as he was with me. I wouldn’t bring him down with my negativity, though.

“I love you, too, Malcom.” Plastering a smile onto my face, I turned to look at him, and my insides shrank as I prayed he didn’t ask me about putting my ring on again. He was a very patient man, but even he had a breaking point. I was sure I would eventually break through it; hopefully, that was not happening today.

“That’s my girl.” His hand smacked the exposed skin peeking beneath my shirt, “Now, get that ass dressed. No other man will ever see any of this. It’s mine. I made sure when I gave you the ring.” His eyes darkened, and his voice deepened.

My thumb traced the absence of a ring on my ring finger, both of us more than understanding what he was not so eloquently hinting. He proposed, and I accepted without hesitation. I loved this man. As soon as he slid the ring onto my finger, it was as if I forgot how I had the ability to breathe. Maybe I wasn’t as ready as I thought to share the rest of my life with him. Of course, Malcom being Malcom told me I didn’t have to wear it until I was ready and that me accepting his engagement was enough for now. That was six months ago, and the finger I promised to proclaim our upcoming marriage to the rest of the world still remained ringless.

***

“Shit, Z, if you aren’t going to marry that gorgeous man, cut him free, and I’ll happily walk down the aisle with him,” my best friend admitted with a giggle after I filled him in on what had happened in my life since the last time we saw one another. Running his well-manicured hand through his frosted hair, his tongue pressed against his upper lip as he ripped the top off a packet of sweetener. He paused before replying, “He is Malcom, but he’s still a man, honey. We don’t like to be told we can only have part of something. We’re selfish creatures.”

“I know, David. I should be over the moon to wear that rock. I feel so bad. It’s just—”

“Something isn’t right.” He shook his head, and he raised his hands, smacking his palms against the small table between us.

My muscles jerked, and coffee sloshed around the rim of my cup, some splashing onto the table. I glared at him through narrowed eyes. As long as I’d been friends with him, his theatrics should not be able to startle me, but they still managed to surprise me more often than not.

“You need to forget your grandmama’s hoodoo voodoo juju beliefs and just be happy.” I opened my mouth to protest, and he lifted a hand again, his palm stopping only a few inches from my face. “Don’t you dare give me some type of spiel that you would give someone else who would undoubtedly believe you because you could almost convince a gay man he hated dick and that in itself is a talent? But let me remind you that I do not fall into that category. I will call her myself just for affirmation if you try to deny me this truth.” He was serious and would, without a doubt, speed dial her in a heartbeat if I pushed him to do so. This wasn’t the first time he had used my grandma as his ace up his sleeve.

“You’re such a hag sometimes.”

“Takes one to know one. It’s why we work.” He waved me off, picking up the small wooden stick, dramatically plopping it into the depths of his coffee.

He was mostly right. It didn’t matter how crazy I thought my grandma was; she was a big part of me. I’d always sworn I would never give in to her superstitions, yet, here I was, refusing to completely commit to a man I promised to marry simply because I had a persistent nagging hunch that was probably nothing more than being nervous.

Although I was less than happy about him calling me out right now, this was one of the biggest reasons David and I worked as friends. He saw what no one else did. Even when I did not give an explanation, he knew the answer. Of course, the fact he was also friends with Malcom probably didn’t hurt. His true loyalty was with me, or so he had reminded me constantly since Malcom and I began dating. Always telling me I would win him in the divorce in the event Malcom and I ended our relationship. He proved this to be true the first time Malcom and I split, so I had no reason to think otherwise. Really, I hoped I never had to find out. David was my only friend other than Malcom, and a girl needed someone she wasn’t having sex with to vent to.

I shrugged, blowing into my cup, before sipping the black coffee. “David, there’s something I can’t put my finger on. No man worships a woman like he does me without having secrets. Deep dark secrets.”

“Z, why does a man have to have a reason to shower the woman he wants to spend the rest of his life with with unconditional love and praise? Can’t he just be a man who loves a woman? Honestly, though. What could he possibly have that one of us wouldn’t have found out by now? He moved here…” his voice trailed off as he thought.

“Our sophomore year,” I answered without a second of hesitation.

“Right. How many secrets do you think he could have hidden before turning eighteen?” He gasped, cupping his fingers over his mouth. “Maybe he is a serial shoplifter. Would that stop you from marrying that beautiful man? Oooo, what if he’s a closet porn addict? Like he likes to watch people lick pinky toes or something extremely nasty like that.”

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