He was not wrong about that.
Hop kept going.
“But the way I like it, you’ve had night after night of comin’ to know. So you knew what you were doin’ and you also knew, I said, ‘come here’, you come there. You know you’ll get your times to play but you also know I’ll fuckin’ give them to you. That’s the way I roll, the only way I roll. And last, you know you get off on that so do not try to bullshit that you don’t. So, no games. You pulled that shit anyway, knowin’ I wouldn’t be down with it so I was pissed. Then I sat on my bike, thinkin’ I shouldn’t haul ass but come back and work it out and as I was decidin’, I saw your light go out. You didn’t phone me. You didn’t text me. You didn’t even call my fuckin’ name as I walked out. I’m here, I’m gone, all the same to you. So, again, I’ll ask, that’s it?”
I wasn’t entirely certain I understood his question at the same time, scarily, I thought I did.
I went with what I thought but did it gently, “Honey, you know we don’t have that.”
I found I was right when his mouth got tight right before it opened to say, “And you know, two weeks, no cool down, fuck, if anything, our fire is blazing brighter; that’s bullshit.”
Oh God.
“Hop—”
“Or I thought so until your fuckin’ light went out.”
He stared at me.
I stared at him.
Neither of us spoke.
This time, Hop didn’t break it and it went on so long, it felt like the silence had become a weight and it started getting heavy on me. Heavy in a way I couldn’t breathe.
I had to breathe. I had to let something out. Therefore, I had to share.
Just a little bit.
“I don’t have anything to give, Hop.”
His response was immediate. “That’s bullshit, too.”
I shook my head.
He shook his, dropped his arms from his chest and came farther into the room, stopping at the foot of the bed.
“Tyra will get it,” he declared then added, “eventually, and if she doesn’t, who gives a fuck? We do.”
I felt my breath catch.
We do.
He got it.
I got it.
We got it.
We absolutely did.
It was a drug for him like it was for me. He was my crack. I was his.
He’d just admitted it but I already knew it.
Thirteen nights, dark until dawn.
Feeling the hollowing of my belly whenever he left.
Counting the minutes until he came back.
I liked that he got it. I did. God, I did.
But I couldn’t let myself like it.
I also could absolutely not let myself have it.
“It isn’t Tyra,” I told him.
“You told her about us?” he asked instantly.
I shook my head again.
“It’s Tyra,” he stated, and he was right but only sort of.
“It’s more, Hop,” I informed him.
“Share,” he ordered on a clip, leaning in slightly and visibly losing patience.
“You don’t get that,” I said softly and carefully.
“Fuck me, babe, seriously?” he ground out then threw a hand toward the bed. “You knocked yourself out to make me wild. You told me your fuckin’ self. Why, Lanie? Why the fuck would you pull out all the fuckin’ stops to make a man already drunk on you drunker?”
Oh God.
He was drunk on me.
Drunk.
On.
Me.
I knew it but it felt good that he said it, right out, no lies, no hiding, no games.
My mind screamed, Do not process that, Lanie!
“I was just—” I started, scrambling to hold myself together.
Hold myself back.
“Don’t deny it, babe. Remember you came to me.”
“For one night,” I reminded him.
His hands went back to his hips as he bit out, “Jesus, that’s bullshit too.”
“It isn’t, Hop. I told you then exactly how it was,” I returned.
“You lied then and you’re lyin’ now.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I’m not,” I snapped but it didn’t sound angry. Stupidly, I didn’t control it and it came out sounding desperate.
His head jerked. He heard it.
Then he gave it to me.
“You’re searchin’ for it, same as me. If you haven’t found it, fuck, babe, same as anybody.”
No, no I wasn’t searching for it. I was, years ago. Then I thought I’d found it. Then I lost it.
And I wouldn’t even allow myself to think he was searching.
“I’m not,” I denied.
“Serious as shit, Lanie, that’s bullshit too, worse than the rest ’cause you’re not only tryin’ to feed me that shit, you’re forcin’ it down your own fuckin’ throat.”
This had to stop.