"Nia." Her name softly fell from his lips and she soaked in his sweet breath like a pancake to syrup. Her eyes were low and she was watching his chest rise and fall. She couldn't look at him just yet. She was frozen in place.
With just this brazen...
Nia had last spoken to Malcolm 6 days, 19 hours, 47 minutes, 24 calls and 33 messages ago.
And it felt like fucking forever.
And it was. In Malcolm and Nia's world, one day without speaking felt like a year.
And it was bothering Nia. It was ruining her life's general contentment and happiness. It felt like everything was out of order. With each call she had made and message sent, she had been trying to make everything right again because this inconsistent communication was a disruption; a new lack. It was like every unanswered effort was causing a black hole in her life and Malcolm's missing presence was swallowing her up. This radio silence was deafening and brutal, and– leaving too much dead air for Nia to think.
Think thoughts about her feelings. All of these fucking feelings she was feeling. These feelings that she couldn't get a handle on, no matter how hard she tried.
And that was what bothered Nia the most... Nia felt out of control.
Nia. Felt. Emotional.
By now, all of Nia's affection had dwindled, and was replaced with determination – the only of Nia's tried and true characteristics that seemed to be left. But there was also anger – a lot of anger – and sadness, and empathy, and...
love.
So much in fact, that she was actively fighting her better instincts every other second from getting up and going to see Malcolm just too hold and soothe him because it felt so foreign. So odd, and out of place. Not because it was Malcolm, but because never before in her life had Nia ever felt so convicted to care for someone. In fact, never before in her life had Nia ever felt so much.
The only reason she hadn't popped up at his apartment yet was ironically because of Colin and the small nuggets of reassurance he had been giving her.
It had been a week after game night's implosion in her living room, and she sat grasping at alternate routes to her very best friend while her very best *almost* boyfriend watched her get ready to go out with the girls.
"So did you speak to Mac at work today?" Nia asked as she neatly dabbed at her lips with the glossy tip of a brush. She admired the shimmering milky brown colour adorning her mouth in her mirror before her eyes focused on Colin.
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"Nope." His reflection didn't look back at her.
"Okay, but did you try?" She tried to delicately place the closed tube of lipgloss down, but it hit her dresser with a smack instead.
"Nia, baby," Colin started as he propped himself up on an elbow while the rest of his body spread across her made up bed. "Imma give you the same answer I've been giving you all week. 'Yes, I tried. No, he doesn't want to talk to me.' But honestly at this point, I'm not interested in being blown off by him anymore. I really was only checking on him for you."
