Page 48 of Devanté
“What else do you want?” I asked. The way my stomach was flopping told me exactly what he wanted.
“You already know, Blake. I told you, I was in love with you.”
“You said was,” I pointed out, finger outstretched. He reached across and grabbed my index finger, a playful smile on his lips.
“You can’t turn that kind of heat off. I know we were kids back then but we both felt it. We felt…something. I think we were both scared and unsure though.” With my finger still trapped against his warm palm, he said, “I’m not scared or unsure anymore, Blake. I want you. I still love you.”
My world tilted and spun.
I blinked rapidly, trying to sort my thoughts out but they swallowed me whole leaving behind bones, muscle, and logic. I wanted to spit the three words right back at him. I wanted to pour them on his dark skin and watch him glow with the gravity of my love because I knew how powerful it was. I knew how much I loved Devanté and there was nothing stronger. It’s why I couldn’t get him out of my head over the past eight years. He was the one thing I couldn’t heal.
Now I knew it was because he didn’t do anything wrong. I needed to confront my fear. I needed to admit that I was scared of how he made me feel. I was scared of how I made him feel too.
As confident as I was, the thought still haunted me that I wasn’t good enough for someone like him.
“Devanté, I love you too. I don’t think I ever stopped but…I have a boyfriend.” The word boyfriend fell from my lips like a clunky stone. Devanté let go of my finger and the simple gesture stung.
“The guy from those comedy videos?” he blurted, a scowl eating his features and turning them dark. I nodded and pushed scrambled eggs around on my plate. “Jesus, Blake. I thought that was a stupid ass rumor. I knew you worked on his Blue Boyz campaign…”
“Wait, you knew I worked on his campaign? Have you been stalking me?” I tried to mask my laughter but it came out anyway. He shrugged and looked down at the half-eaten croissant on his plate. “It’s not a rumor. We’ve been together for a year. We live together and everything.” My eyes widened and my brows lifted as I thought about the nightmare my own house had been lately.
“Live together? Shit. Things are serious then.” The sound of my fork tines on the plate seemed to echo in the air.
“It’s weird,” I admitted.
“Are you in love?” His question was bold and immediate.
“Um…I…” Words dribbled from my lips with no concrete meaning.
“Leave him, Blake.”
“Wow, you don’t waste time, do you?”
“Why should I?” He said, taking a bite of his food. “You don’t love him. Honestly, even if you did, I’d tell you to leave him.”
“You can’t do that…” I sighed, wishing my mimosa was endless. “Besides, how do you know I don’t love him? I never answered you.”
“That was all the answer I needed. You’re a sure woman. You know what you like and don’t like. Love and don’t love. If you loved him, you would have said so, unequivocally.”
“You get on my nerves,” I groaned.
“Because you know I’m right.”
“You think you’re right. Still haven’t changed,” I smacked my lips and finished my food.
“I’ve changed but not at my core.”
“Good.” I tipped the champagne flute up and let the last tart drops of my mimosa slip down my throat. Even though I wasn’t looking, I felt Devanté’s eyes on me. Stuck to my skin like sweat. Slipping along the sides of my face and gliding down my neck.
How could one look linger like that? I still felt him looking even after he raised his hand for the check. While we waited for our server to hand us the bill, I asked Devanté what he’d been up to for the past eight years.
“I’ll tell you everything if you let me take you out tonight.” The waitress slid the check to Devanté and he signed and tipped heavily all while stealing glances at me. It was like I was his favorite show and if he looked away from a second too long, he’d miss the most crucial part. I couldn’t remember the last time a man made me feel so important.
Had he always looked at me that way? My thumping, beating, thudding heart answered that question for me.
Yes.
I was too young and too rooted in insecurities to notice. Now, I knew who I was and I knew what it meant when a man, even Devanté Morgan, looked at me like that. I rubbed the back of my neck and steadied my rapid breathing.
