Changing Stiles

by Elaine Allen

The time on my DVD player stares back at me. 1:10 a.m.

  Yes, one in the goddamn morning, and I haven’t seen or heard from Mr. Reed.

  I called him and his phone went straight to voicemail at ten and again at eleven. I messaged him on AOL.

  No response.

  Frantic, I dial his cell again. It rings, like magic. It stops ringing when a woman answers.

  My heart sinks. A sense of dread flows through it like ink dissolving into clean water.

  I pull the phone away from my ear to check if I'd dialed the correct number. It was his number. So, immediately, I’m thinking why the hell is a female answering?

  “Carter? Babe—

  “I'm sorry. This is Latoya. Carter is busy. I'll have him call you back tomorrow,” she says and quickly disconnects the call.

  I’m up like a bullet. Spaced out, I stare at the phone and dial his number back-to-back as it rings and the calls are sent to voicemail one after the other.

  What the fuck?! I start to pace my bedroom; I scream because there’s nothing else for me to do with my frustration. I knock over a small vase with fresh flowers in it onto the floor.

  By two a.m., there's no return call. No Nothing.

  That’s exactly what I feel right now as the last tears I’ll ever shed for Carter fall down my cheeks.

  Twenty-One

  Alieas

  It’s crazy how timing works. What’s even crazier is how impulsive humans are. I’m burning. I want to speak to Carter, and I think of driving to his house at two a.m. and making a spectacle of myself. But I'd done that shit with Tony and just knew that this time was going to be different, that Carter wouldn’t put me in this position. Here go life teaching me that I obviously don't know shit about love.

  And that maybe love is just not for me.

  My phone rings. It has to be Carter. I turn in a circle quickly, trying to remember where I had tossed the cordless phone as it continuously rings. By the time I found it under the couch, it stopped ringing. Then it begins ringing again in my hand.

  “You feel better?” Justin asks.

  “Nawl.” Fuck love. “But I know what would help me.”

  Justin laughs. “Oh, I got some feel good,” he murmurs roughly.

  “Can I get a couple doses?”

  “Be there in like ten minutes. Call you when I get out front,” he announces eagerly.

  I go to the bathroom and look in the mirror. I’m a damn mess. My eyes are all puffy and red. My damn nose has a little bit of snot around the nostril. I can’t let Justin see me like this. I turn the water on in the shower, quickly take off my clothes, and jump in.

  Fuck love. Fuck love. Fuck love… My mind chants as I wash up. The heat dulling my senses and any ounces of love I had in my heart. Remnants of my tears mingle with the stream of shower water and get washed away. I wet my hair beneath the spray and get lost in the rush of the water. More tears escaped but I shrug them off. I could hear the phone ringing but I don’t budge. Justin could wait. He'd waited this long; two more minutes wouldn’t kill him.

  I get out of the shower, dry off, towel dry my hair for a moment, and quickly brush it into a ponytail. I walk into my bedroom to put some lotion on. I admire my naked body in the mirror over my dresser. It was finally shaped in a way that I had dreamed about my entire life. But when I lift my gaze to my reflection, I only see the pudgy, tall girl with all the self-esteem issues staring back at me.

  I rub some, of my favorite scented oil; lick me all over, on my hands and rub them together then over my shoulders and arms. I roll the vile of oil between my breasts, rub some on my hands to then again rub down my entire body.

  The phone rings and then the buzzer sounds.

  “Buzz me up,” Justin practically begs into the intercom.

  I press the button on my phone that's linked to the buzzer, wrap the towel back around my body, and walk out of the living room. I unlock the door, crack it a little, and just stand there, leaning up against the wall.

  When he opens the door and discovers me standing in what I like to think is an alluring pose, Justin smiles, that one damn dimple winking at me.

  Fuck. I'd almost forgotten how down right sexy he is. Justin rubs his hands together and blows on them to heat them up.

  “Damn, baby,” Justin breathes out as he shuts and locks the door.

  I plaster a smile on my face and let out a playful laugh. Justin kicks off his shoes, shrugs out of his blazer, and lets it fall to the floor. Then he just grabs me by the front of the towel.

  Next, he kisses me as we unleash eight months of pent-up desire in a feverish frenzy of twisting tongues. My heart is racing because my body readily betrays it. My girl starts speaking in her favorite language. I’m soaked; the familiar pulsing, beating between the folds of my womanhood has me dragging him further into the kiss.

  “Boah must've really fucked up,” he slurs into my mouth.

  Don’t mention him. All I want to do is forget about “boah”

  Just fuck and forget. I used to be so good at it. Here I was thinking I could finally have real love and have it love me back.

  Just fuck and forget, I tell myself as Justin pulls the towel from my body.

  Holding my waist, he guides me backward, into the living area. Justin hisses through his teeth as he takes in the sight of my naked body.

  He kisses my hand. His eyes are glued to mine as he places his hand on my chest to feel the thumping of my heart. “It’s beating fast. I'd never hurt you,” he reassures me as he leans in to kiss me again.

  Just fuck and forget… The pain… The promises...

  Him.

  Justin cups my left breast in his hand and bounces it, testing its weight. He gently toys with my nipple, rolling it between his finger before taking it into his mouth. He laves it greedily with his tongue.

  Closing my eyes as the warring sensations build, I feel the slight force of energy igniting the familiar tingle. I hold his head to me as he feeds. His free hand drifts along my skin, traveling the curves of my body before resting it at the small of my back and begins to feast on both breasts. One to the other. He clasps me tight, fingers digging in.

  A moan escapes my lips, and I run my tongue lazily over my bottom lip. I bite down on it to trap the next one before it oozes out.

  “You smell good enough eat,” he huskily whispers in my ear. He licks the inside shell then travels to nibble on my earlobe. Tongue, slick and wet, trails a thin line down my neck, burrowing in the delicate and sensitive hollow as he playfully takes a bite.

  Fuck and Forget… There's no turning back now. I'm drowning.

  In a misty vision, I see the “me” that I was claiming to be, sitting on the edges of the shore. She stands up and lifts her hands up to shield her eyes from the sun to get a better look, attempting to spot an iota of her in me. Off in the distance, past the safety line, I'm waving, arms flaying in the air. After a moment, she puts her hands down. The search is over; she can't see me. She turns and walks off in the distance.

  Away from me.

  An appreciative moan escapes as the tension of the inner war I'm waging dissipates.

  I broke our kiss, faintly tasting the sweetness of Grand Marnier and swallowed. I push him back a step, just enough that I could reach down to unbuckle his belt. I unzip his jeans as he quickly does away with the buttons on his crisp white shirt.

  Seconds pass as I admire the results of his daily trips to the gym. Ripples of muscles jump beneath my roaming fingers. I push the shirt from his broad shoulders, letting my hands travel over his well-toned arms. He grasps my hips again, fusing our bare chests to one another. He wraps his arms around me and in one fell swoop, lifts me off my damn feet.

  Justin walks across the room and presses my back up against the wall. He kisses and playfully grinds himself into me. I laugh, still a little amazed that he was capable of lifting me, even with my significant weight loss. Greedily, he sucks the bare skin along my collarbone, which I’m sure will leave a mark.

&n
bsp; “What’s up, ma? You too quiet,” he murmurs.

  He's talking too much. I close my eyes and Carter's smiling face forms perfectly in my mind.

  I can't do this…

  I don’t realize that I'd said it aloud until Justin lifts his hands to frame my face and ask me to open my eyes.

  “Alieas?” His forehead dips to touch mine. He sighs heavily to get his lust in check before he leans back and looks me in my eyes and says my name again. “Alieas?”

  My heart trips. It’s not too late.

  “I’m soooo sorry, Justin,” I nervously let out.

  He steps back and lets me go.

  Embarrassed, I lift my hands to my mouth. “I'm so sorry,” I mumble again. I slide from between him and the wall and race across the room and into my bedroom.

  I frantically dig through my drawers for something to cover up in and I grab Carter's ball shorts, a sports bra, and one of my sorority t-shirts.

  I know I still have to face Justin because he doesn’t leave. He isn’t the type to just leave. I suppose he's sober enough to want to discuss it, but I am completely mortified. I palm my forehead and just stand there for a moment.

  Suck it up, heffa. This could’ve gone way left. This man could have raped you. Gather your composure and go handle your business.

  I take in a deep breath, effectively sucking it up and heading out to the living room. Justin’s shirt and pants are back on and he’s sitting on the couch, rolling up a blunt.

  He clears his throat when I sit beside him. “You mind if I blow?”

  I shake my head. And before I can stop or control it, a shameful tear escapes. I quickly rub my bottom eyelid, praying that the familiar cloudiness in my head doesn’t mean that I'm gonna start balling all over him.

  And of course, I do…

  Justin takes a toke, holds the smoke in his mouth, and then blows it out. “So, you definitely love dude.”

  I nod and mumble, “Yes.”

  He is quiet as he tokes it two more times. “Damn, Lieas,” he blows out the words in a puff of smoke.

  “I'm sorry. I'm so embarrassed.”

  “You?” he laughed a little. “I was hype as shit,” he drawls. “You look good as fuck, but I ain’t no nut ass dude.”

  “I know.” I can't apologize anymore because this was so fucked up of me to have done this to him.

  He flicks the ashes in the blunt wrapper then taps the blunt out on the paper. He let his head fall back to rest on the back of the couch.

  “Damn, ma. You cool as shit. What happened with boah?”

  My emotions wild, I ignore that I'd just had my tongue down his throat and tell him. I can't believe that he is listening. This is why I feel connected to him. While not in love, I care for him. I had even kind of missed him. Now, I feel even shitter.

  Hurt people hurt other people. The thought bounced around in the hollows of my heart.

  “Thank you, Justin,” I say, grateful that he hasn’t flipped out on me.

  The marijuana must have started taking effect because his eyes were lowered and he had a drowsy twist to his lips. “Can I chill here til the morning?” he stammered as he dragged his hand down his face, hoping it would bring down his high. “C’mere,” he slurs.

  I nod and lean back into his arms. I quickly fall asleep.

  Hours later, this is exactly how Carter finds me— asleep. In another man’s arms…

  Part Two

  Time. So precious, it waits for no man…

  Twenty-Two

  November 2013

  Friday

  Alieas

  Reunited and it feels so good…

  Yeah-the-fuck-right. The amber eyes that assess me are skeptical, harsh and reflect shades of downright distrust. Still, I search them for a fleck of forgiveness, understanding, and possible warmth.

  I'm coming up empty.

  I built up the courage to glance down at his ring finger and was relieved to see it free of bands and any tan lines. My gaze peruses the rest of him, devouring every inch from head to toe. Digesting him with my soul, I revel in the visual delight that is unadulterated, raw, uniquely him.

  Masculine as fuck! Still handsome as ever and confidently owning that shit.

  The hair that I once braided in straight backs is now tapered down to a sea of black waves infiltrated with a few noticeable grays. The goatee had grown into a full beard, leaving my mouth dry. I'm officially on the beard gang train.

  Yes, Lawd!

  The damn-near uncontrollable need to take him in my arms and plead my case is stomped out as the once-happy-fan clears her throat. Our eyes meet again after my daring exploration of him, and then I turn my attention to her.

  “So, y'all know one another?” she thoughtfully inquires as the prolonged silence and unspoken tension continues.

  “Yeah. In passing,” he explains, diminishing our months of love to a fleeting moment in time.

  My heart expands painfully in my chest at the unfeeling characterization of what I'd professed to be the love of my life. And even though we have many mutual friends, today is the first time I've seen him since our breakup. “Come on if y'all taking this pic,” he states, his words tinged with annoyance.

  I put on the show face, and she poses, once again, as he snaps the picture and then hands the phone back to her.

  There's clear confusion marked in the woman's pretty face, but she accepts his word and reaches her hand out to mine.

  “It was nice meeting you.” The slender outstretched fingers are also ring-free. “I guess I'll see you tomorrow,” she says softly, almost afraid to now speak.

  “Of course. I'll look for you, Deidra.”

  Carter doesn't utter another word before he walks off. Deidra follows him with one glance back at me.

  Yes, if in passing means in-fucking-love, I think to myself.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Carter

  In passing? Maybe that was a little harsh, I consider as I made my way through the exit doors. She looked fucking amazing. Extra tall, kinda thick, and fine.

  I can’t even figure out why I'm annoyed. I had wanted to stay in tonight. Mira has a couple friends over, but Deidra insisted that we make a Target and pizza run.

  I hate being thrown off.

  Alieas’ appearance did more than just throw me off; it knocked the wind out of me. There was a moment of complete shock on both our parts. Alieas just stood there, mouth hanging to her chin. If I didn’t know any better, I could swear her golden eyes were pleading, wounded, and seeking at least one ounce of feeling from me.

  But I wasn’t ready for her. To give in to that demand of emotions was something I was still working out. She was still bold as ever, her eyes examining every inch of me. My dick grew hard as if he could sense her eyes on him. And when our eyes collided, I swear there was a faint smirk on her lips.

  Impatiently, I shifted my weight from one leg to the other. None of my brain cells are going to work after this.

  Sometimes, you think about dipping your toe in the pool and fate comes alongside and pushes you all the way in. I was going to contact her.

  “So… exactly what was that?” Deidra finally asks once we were settled into the car.

  I walked off, had needed some air after taking their picture. So, I told her that I’d meet her at the car instead of waiting for her at the register.

  “What was what?” I reply, feigning ignorance and pulling out of the parking spot.

  “You never said you knew her,” she starts.

  I’m so not in the mood to have this conversation. The way I’m feeling, it’s going to lead to a place I’m not sure she wants to go. We are already going through the motions, halfway together/halfway broken up. She wants things that I'm not ready for with her. That I don't want with her. I guess it was as simple as that. “I didn’t know that I had to tell you about every woman I've been with.”

  Deidra glares at me, twists her lips, and rolls her neck. The brown eyes that are usua
lly patient and trusting now bear a hole through me with a hint of anger. “Carter?”

  More annoyed with her than I should be, I sigh and shrug. “Why the hell you mad that we bumped into someone I used to talk to?”

  “I saw how y'all were looking at one another.”

  And? “Stop making stuff up where there is nothing. I haven't seen her in over ten years—”

  A hand went up to stop me from continuing my now rant. “I know when you're lying. And your dick got hard when she was staring at you because I know that dick print well. And to make matters worse, you didn't even introduce me.”

  I’m flabbergasted at her keen observation. It doesn’t surprise me that she noticed; women notice every damn thing, and there was no use denying it, so I kept it neutral. “I'm going to take you home now.”

  She expels an angry puff of air then she points accusingly at me. “Are you fucking her, Carter?”

  There was the reason for her anger. Right off, she is defensive. She has no idea how I know Alieas, and she the hell mad already. And it’s not like anything I say will make it any better, but damn.

  “What did I just say?. I haven't seen her in over ten years and, I am not fucking her.”

  She sucks her teeth and impatiently stares at me. I take it the folded arms and angry eyes mean that she is pissed. “You damn sure looked like you wanted to. So, are you going to tell me what’s going on or not?” she demands.

  “I used to love her,” I admit while assessing and planning my next move.

  “And?” she inquires, waiting for more.

  Throughout our eight-month relationship, I’ve shared pieces of myself with Deidre but have kept the innermost aches to myself. Not sure if I'd ever admitted aloud that Alieas had hurt me to anyone. Fuck, that she'd broken into pieces what was left of my heart. Nawl, I couldn't admit that to anyone, so I left out the specifics. The most she knew about my romantic past was there was someone I loved and we hadn't worked out because the woman wasn’t willing to give me what I needed.

  That was then and this is now. My heart has since healed. Many, many relationships and “situationships” later, it is still intact.