#'you guys are in for a treat--welcome to our research project.' is NOT! college level writing!!!!!!!

[spacelesscowboy]

the only thing worse than not doing anything in a group project and getting failed because of it is being accused of not having done any work in a group project, when you in fact, not only wrote your assigned section, but also ended up editing everyone else's sections to be more cohesive bc no one in ur group knows how to write professionally.

[goddessofthundathighs]

INTERLUDE II: FREEDOM

Suggested Listenings/ Songs Mentioned: Luvin U x 6LACK;

Free x 6LACK; River of Tears x Alessia Cara

Prompts Included: “You’re never this quiet, what’s wrong?” & “Delete it. Now.” submitted by @princessstevens & Anon

4 years, 5 months, 19 days, and 12 hours had passed since the last time I saw her face and even now, she was still as beautiful as I remembered. Her hair was pulled back into long passion twists that stopped just above the waistline of the distressed denim jeans. The crisp white hightop Chuck Taylors matched the cropped top that she wore and orange Cateye frames decorated her face. She was regal and after all this time, she still took my breath away.

“Long time no see,” she finally spoke after a beat, regarding me with the smile that used to make my knees weak. I kept my face neutral, not wanting to give my wayward emotions away.

“Why are you here?”

“I missed you.”

“Bullshit.”

“I’m serious, Skylar. I never stopped thinking about you, and the fact that your face is on nearly every billboard in LA doesn’t exactly make it easy to avoid you.”

“You’re an actress and I've been avoiding you just fine, Monica.” I know that cut deep, but at the moment, I didn’t give a fuck. She had no right to be in my shop attempting to profess any type of feelings for me. We had long since ended our proverbial song and dance.

“So you have no words for me? No questions as to where I went or why I did what I did?”

“Monica, it’s been 4 years since the last time we spoke. As always, you got me all excited, talking about marriage, kids, and all that other shit, but then once your parents and family began shunning you for being happy with a woman, you changed. You projected your trauma and pain onto me as though I was the problem. Like I conned my way between your legs and forced you to want a life with me. It’s been the same song and dance between us since college. So forgive me if I don’t welcome you with open arms whenever the wind decides to blow you into my life. I’m not some toy that you can pick up and play with, then put back on the shelf when you feel like you don’t wanna be gay anymore. Your gay has seasons, mine doesn’t. This is me, 24/7 and I’ll be damned if I let you pull me into your pit of indecision and self-pity. I wasted 7 years of my life doing that, I’m good.”

“I think you should leave.” I was so busy fussing that I hadn’t even noticed O’Shea walk back in. Monica stood frozen, obviously taken aback by my speech, but it needed to be said. She took a step closer, regarding me carefully as her hands moved to touch my face. I moved my face and looked towards the exit. 

“I’ll always love you,” she whispered softly as she turned to walk out of the shop. 

“You good?”

“I’m fine, Shea.” I was lying and she knew it, but she just let me go, figuring a needed to be alone. I walked back to my office and called the one person I knew could make me feel better after seeing her. 

“Nola Green Flowers, this is Ruben. How can I help you?”

————————

O’Shea had a way of catching me off guard with her questions. For the last week, I have been actively avoiding both her and Erik, knowing they both wanted to check in with me and my mental state. I mean, I know that they were just looking out for me, but I really hadn’t been in the mood to discuss anything. I wanted things to go back to the way they were before she barged into my shop. 

“Sky?”

“Huh?”

“You’re never this quiet, what’s wrong?” The short answer: everything. 

“If you don’t wanna talk about it, we don’t have to.”

“Nah, you’re fine. I need to. Monica and I met back in 2007. It was my senior year of undergrad and I was in the process of completing all of my exit requirements. She was a cheerleader with the prettiest smile and her skin was immaculate. Like no matter the time of day, she glowed. She was beauty in its rawest form and I was stuck. She was the first girl I had ever looked at and was like ‘wow, she’s beautiful.’” 

“So she was your first girlfriend?”

“Yes. She was the first person, besides Erik that I found homeostasis with. We vibed and connected on a level that I hadn’t seen aside from my fathers.”

“So what happened?”

“In short, she wasn’t feeling it. We dated consistently for about 3 years until everything went downhill.”

“SKYYYLARRRRR!”

That sound never stopped being sexy to me. The way my name spilled from Monica’s lips as I licked and sucked her to oblivion was all the motivation I needed to make sure she’d sleep peacefully through the night as I worked on my dissertation. 

“Come on Babygirl. I know you ain’t tired, I’m just getting started,” I teased as I rolled my tongue against her clit before slipping it into her entrance. She loved when I tongue-fucked her. I could always feel her essence pool up on my tongue before sliding down my throat, and I’d drink it all while staring into her eyes. 

“Baby, I’m about to cum!” Bingo. I replaced my tongue with my fingers and slid up her body to place long, wet kisses down her neck and chest. One swipe of my thumb across her clit and she was squirting, soaking my fingers and sheets with that sweet nectar that had me addicted to her. I kissed her softly, massaging her legs and thighs to work the feeling back into them as I was sure they were numb. She hummed peacefully, thoroughly sated and drowsy from our session. 

“I often caught myself watching her in awe, wondering how I got so lucky to be in the presence of someone so authentic. Though I was a fairly good person, I sometimes felt as though I didn’t deserve her.”

“I don’t think I wanna do this anymore..” My heart stopped as I looked into her eyes. 

“It was fun while it lasted, but this lifestyle isn’t for me.”

“I wanted to yell. Fuss about her wasting my time for the last 3 years, getting my hopes up with talks of the future and children, but I let just let her go.”

“What did your dads say?”

“Papa Simon was crushed because he hated to see me cry, but Papa Ruben was like Erik. They both said that something felt off about her, but they kept quiet because they saw how happy I was. After we broke up, I drowned myself in my research. I made it so that I didn’t have time to nurture a relationship and therefore get my heart broken again. Then like clockwork, she’d pop back up every year or two, get back in my head, and drop me like a bad habit. It got to the point where I wouldn’t tell anyone she was back because I wasn’t sure how long she’d stay. Things finally ended in 2015. After 3 years of consistent dating followed by another 4 of on and off again flings, I was done. I couldn’t keep setting myself up for failure no matter how much I loved her.” 

“How did you cope with her being gone?” “Erik. Sometimes I would call him to vent and he’d take me shopping or out for ice cream to take my mind off her.”

“Not to change the subject, but when was the last time you guys had sex?” The question was calm like she was merely asking about the weather. “I know it’s blunt, but it’s been weighing on my mind for a while.”

“Before Monica, I had never had sex with a woman so, at the time, sex with Erik was all I knew. It was convenient and it was great. After her, I knew no man could ever touch me or make me feel that way again. We had sex for the first time since college four years ago and that was when I knew that being with a man wasn’t for me.”

“So y’all haven’t had any type of sexual encounters in four years?” I shook my head no.

“So then why does he—”

“He likes to get you riled up. You’re the first girl that understands and accepts our relationship. Everyone else always says that there’s no way that we can continue to be platonic given our history.”

“There’s nothing to misunderstand about the two of you. It’s very clear that you guys have a bond that isn't inherently sexual and or romantic in nature. At least not between you.”

“I think so too, but everyone has their own opinions. I remember his last girl, Lynda. She always thought that there was more to our relationship and that I was trying to steal him away from her. In actuality, I was trying to save her life, but that’s neither here nor there.”

“Save her life?! Oh goodness. What she do?”

“Long story.”

“Bitch I got time.” 

“Well…”

The sound of the phone ringing interrupted our story time and impromptu bonding. 

“Dr. Green? It’s Oya. Could we meet in person? I’d like to discuss the toys you recommended.”

————————

I’m going down, and you have watched me drown // In a river of tears, lost beneath the stream

Under the waves I’ve found the strength to say // the river of tears has washed me clean

Alessia Cara has a way of singing my soul. I sat at my desk, nursing a bottle of Hennessy as my text thread stared back at me. My mind had typed and retyped the message, yet nothing seemed to thoroughly convey everything I was feeling. I sighed, chugging the rest of the bottle before letting my fingers dance against the keys. 

All I ever asked of you was honesty. We have both always been super busy individuals so time wasn’t an issue, but I needed you to be your true self and I see now that you struggle with that. No matter how much I love and care for you, I can no longer allow you to make my heart your home whenever it’s convenient for you. I need someone that will shout their love for me to the heavens all the time, not just in the bedroom. I need someone that’s as raw and authentic with me as I am with them. So consider this my goodbye, I hope life treats you well. 

I watched the grey bubbles appear before a reply came through. To my surprise, I had just poured my heart out to the wrong person and his response was simple. 

That was beautiful. Delete it. Now.”

Of course I’d accidentally sent the message to Erik and as usual, he was right. She didn’t deserve my tears or an explanation of my feelings. I pushed myself up from my desk and wiped my tears as I walked upstairs to my bathroom. After a long, hot soak in the tub followed by my other Self-Care Sunday rituals, I changed my sheets and crawled into bed, vowing that tonight would be the last night that I cried for Monica Sanders.

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