Sweet Nothing | Aaliyah x J. Cole

13

Liyah runs on the treadmill, skin glistening with sweat. Her headphones are on, blasting high energy hiphop. Her legs burn threatening to give in beneath her. The treadmill reads four miles so far. She won't stop until she hits six.

Last night— the club, Aziz, Jay, then Jay spending the night— and this morning— the talk over breakfast— are stuck on loop in her head. She hadn't thought feelings could change so quickly.

It had taken her a year to be disgusted enough with Jay to walk away. And it only took him one night and three words to undo that.

I love you.

She throbs between her legs, almost feeling his hot breath to her ear as he repeats the words. She pushes harder on the treadmill. Why hadn't she mentioned it to him over breakfast? Was he expecting her to say it back? Did it mean he wanted to be... official?

The questions drown her mind. When her lungs start to burn and her vision begins to wane, Liyah jumps off the whirring treadmill, hands above her head, and tries to catch her breath.

Being official with Jay would've meant everything about six months ago, preferably before Regine entered the picture. Liyah can't imagine herself saying no if he wanted to make it real, go public with her, be exclusive.

But she wonders, why did it take for her to try to move on for him to finally make a decision?

She returns upstairs to her condo and showers off the night and the workout.

I love you.

It's like a song stuck in her head. The melody of his voice, the rhythm of his labored breath, the beat of his strokes as he sang.

She wonders how his conversation with Regine will go. If he really didn't have anything with the girl, it should go fine. No strings attached means no hard feelings, right?

Wrong. Liyah knows better than that. Hell, look at me, she thinks. So much for no hard feelings. As she gets dressed for the day, she  just hopes he's telling the truth, that there was nothing there between he and her...

—

"What did I just do?" Jay is sitting at the desk in his bedroom, leaning back in the cushioned chair. He can still smell her on the clothes he's been wearing since the party. But he doesn't want to shower. It would be like washing away the euphoria, the truth.

I think I do love her.

Don't I?

He hasn't been able to move from the chair since he'd come home from breakfast with Liyah. He'd mostly been thinking about the future, where things would go from here.

Saying he loved her would change things. It should change things. No more late nights and early mornings. No more of her silent passivity.

They could have dates. Vacations. He imagines bringing her home for Thanksgiving. Yeah. Ma would love her, he thinks about it.

But there was Regine. He'd have no future with Liyah unless Regine was completely out of the picture. She'd made that clear.

He works up what to do in his mind, the different approaches he could take. He's got to talk to somebody about this.

Not any of his homies— no, they're still playing the field. He doesn't want that.

Somebody with sense, somebody who valued family. His uncle Quincy.

He calls him up, gives him a bare minimum rundown.

I got this shorty.

I've been feeling here for about a year.