Page 69 of Devanté
“Wow, so evil and so young,” Noa chuckled.
“I know, right? But Devanté told me that if we grew up and neither one of us was married…we’d marry each other. He proposed with a Ring Pop he had in his pocket from lunch. Got on one knee and everything. I said yes. We kissed. The end.” I felt myself slipping down a honey-coated memory lane. I had to reel it back in.
Noa gasped softly with her hand pressed to her chest. “That is so freaking sweet! Here I was thinking he was a suave asshole like the rest of them. He definitely has swag and charisma but I thought that was where it stopped.”
“Nah, he’s the real deal. I’m the one who messed things up between us. Devanté has always been kind. That’s his mission statement. Be kind and the world will reflect your heart.” I didn’t realize I was smiling like a fool until I felt Noa staring at me with a blank expression. “Yeah…so that’s the reason behind the Ring Pop.”
“You love him.” Her words were plain and clear but I still thought I misheard her.
“What?” I leaned forward a little, narrowing my eyes like it would change what she said.
“You heard me, chica. You love him. And I’m guessing after all these years, he loves you too or he wouldn’t have jumped through the hoops he did to figure out your routine in the morning.”
“I don’t know,” I shrugged. I knew. I was full of shit. I had no problem blurting and babbling it when his dick was deep inside of me. When I was with him, I could say it a million times in English, French, Swahili, Igbo…
Saying it in front of Noa was different. It made things real. Nothing could be real until we mapped things out.
“You’re really playing me like I don’t know you?” She scoffed holding her hand in front of my face, dismissing me from our conversation.
“Ugh. Fine.” I finished my glass of wine and laid flat on my back, staring at the ceiling. “I’m in love with Devanté.” My nerves tingled then stood on end at my admission.
Noa smiled then laid beside me on the floor. Both our pitch-dark hair mixing on the carpet, having a conversation of their own. “Okay so now I have to follow him on Instagram. If you’re in love then I have to be in plutonic love because we all know dick is not for me.”
I cleared my throat and moved a tendril of dark hair from her neck and she moved it right back while trying her best to ignore me. “Nah, we’re going to talk about this hickey on your neck. It’s fading so it’s not new. Have you been covering it with concealer?”
“You know, LA Girl concealer is the truth.” She grinned at me then kept typing Devanté’s name in the search bar on Instagram.
“I bet. So, you’d say that’s about a week old or…”
“We’re here for your business, not mine.”
“I’m going to give you five seconds to respond,” I told her.
“I don’t know about all that but…you should see Molly’s bruises. They’re much worse.”
“I knew it! I knew you were closing in on Devanté’s assistant! You’re such a hoe.”
“Whatever bitch.” Her voice trailed off and she sat up straight. “Devanté has a shit ton of fan pages.” Her voice still sounded…off.
“Yeah, I mean…look at who he is.” I lifted my shoulders then let them fall.
“Um, Blake.” Her brown eyes connected with mine and I saw uncertainty flicker. “Did Devanté tell you he has a baby?”
The free-spinning world came to a screeching, roaring stop. I shut my eyes for a moment then opened them hoping the wine was playing tricks on me. Noa shoved her phone at me and I was forced to see Devanté holding a baby swaddled in a blue blanket.
He stood on his porch while he handed the baby off to a woman with golden hair and ochre skin. A few more pictures showed him looking at the camera. The last one was of his closed door.
My stomach squeezed then flopped over spilling out all the warmth I’d collected like lucky clovers. I was stuck. What the hell could I say or do?
“Blake…” Noa called out to me softly.
“I…I gotta go, Noa. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I don’t remember standing up but I was on my feet and headed downstairs.
“Wait, Blake. Don’t leave like this. You’re upset.”
Upset?
That was a gross understatement. I was crumpled. I went from being a pristine blank sheet of paper awaiting possibilities to being a crumpled ball. Useless. Creased.
