Page 112 of Call Me Mrs. Taylor

“I can’t get Raya out my fuckin’ head.”

They all groan at once, a chorus of frustration.

Jovan smiles sheepishly. “My bad. I told them about the lying and shit.”

“It’s whatever,” I say with a shrug. That ain’t even the worst thing she did, so I can’t even be mad. “She’s in my brain. What am I supposed to do?”

“Fuck somebody else!” Bron yells. The family in front of us turns around to glare.

I finish the rest of my beer under their concerned stares, but when the Falcons score, it draws their eyes away from me and gives me a brief respite.

It doesn’t last long.

As soon as the extra point is good, they turn all their attention back to me.

“Bruh, what you need?” Dayton asks. “An exorcism?”

They laugh. I shoot him a look, but he ain’t entirely wrong. She’s like a demon haunting my soul.

Titus, at least, doesn’t look as amused as the others. He nods slowly as he chows down on his nachos.

“I mean…I get it,” he says.

Bron screws his face up. “Don’t validate this shit, man.”

Titus shrugs. “I’m just saying. Some women get in deep. Be embedded in your brain.”

“Then get her ass up outta there,” Jovan says, gesturing around us. “Open your eyes, man. Stadium full of bad ones.” He nods toward a group of women a few rows down. “Ain’t none of them catching your eye?”

I barely glance before shaking my head. “Not interested.”

Javon’s mouth drops open. He turns to the others. “Yall hearing this? It’s worse than I thought.”

I roll my shoulders to ease the tension settling in. “It ain’t even about that.” I signal a girl for another beer. “I’m not bringing nobody else into this shit. It ain’t fair.”

They probably think I’m talking about my mental state, and yeah, that’s part of it. But it’s also Raya and what she might do to another woman. She’s clearly the type to crash out. On me. On my date. Even herself.

I can’t take the chance.

Even broken up and at a distance, her crazy ass is still controlling my life.

“And the lying shit,” Titus says. “That’s really something you can’t get past?”

Jovan and Bron ball their faces up.

“You serious?” Jovan asks. “The bitch can’t be trusted. That’s some legit psycho shit.”

“Don’t call her a bitch,” I say before I can stop myself.

All four of them stare at me.

“Yo, you defending her?” Bron says. “Even now?”

I drink half my beer, my eyes on the field. “Just watch the game.”

And that’s the end of it. For them. Forme, not even the Falcons’ victory could improve my mood.

My first love was Bianca Wilson. Took her to prom, lost my virginity, thought we’d get married. That kinda first love. I was sick when we broke up. It was amicable, both of us leaving for college, but that didn’t make it hurt less.

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