MJ
She freaking cut the call on me. Again.
I sighed, tossing the phone on the bed and running my hands through my unkempt hair. The strands snagged between my fingers, a reminder I hadn't combed it in days. She’s so frustrating — stubborn, infuriating. Here I am trying to apologize, and she just cuts my call as if I'm not worth her time.
A soft knock interrupted my thoughts. "Ma'am the food is ready," one of the house staff announced, from the other side of the door.
“Coming,” I muttered.
I took the stairs two at a time, the smooth oak banister a cold brush against my fingertips. The dining area stretched out like a void. The mahogany table gleamed under the overhead chandelier, its long surface empty except for a single place setting at the far end. The sheer loneliness of it all made me hesitate at the threshold.
This table used to be full. My mom at one end, my brothers squabbling over mashed potatoes in the middle, and me trying to referee. Now, the only sound was the faint hum of the refrigerator in the adjacent kitchen. The chairs stood like gravestones, each one marking a happier time.
“Are you okay?” a young voice asked.
I blinked, startled out of my reverie. The maid—barely older than thirty—was looking at me with wide, concerned eyes. Her black uniform was neatly pressed, her hair pulled into a low bun. She offered me a plate of pasta, the steam curling into the cool air.
I nodded stiffly, taking the plate and heading back upstairs without another word.
Once in my room, I placed the dish on my desk, untouched. If I were with Sonia, we’d be laughing about something stupid right now, throwing bites of food at each other across the table. But here I am, alone, with no one to talk to.
Should I call her again? Even if she shouts, at least I’d hear her voice.
My phone dings several messages popping up.
Lynn: Hey MJ, I want to tell Sonia the truth, I cannot bear not having her as a friend.
Me: Do you want more money?
She replies immediately and by now I feel like i'm about to explode.
Lynn: I just wanted to tell you in advance.
A flash of rage overtook me. Before I could stop myself, I hurled the plate against the wall. It shattered, the pasta splattering like blood across the cream-colored paint. My chest heaved, and my hands trembled as I pressed them to my temples.
What’s wrong with that crazy bitch? She can’t do this. She won’t do this. I won't let her.
The clock on my nightstand glowed red. 7:13P.M. I typed a quick message to Sonia, stabbing at the screen.
Me: When will you return
Minutes crawled by. No reply.
Me: Can I come get you?
Nothing
Me: I know you can see my text
Finally a response.
Sonia: What do you want MJ?
Me: To talk
Sonia: We're already talking
Me: Are you coming tomorrow
Sonia: Yeah and I'm changing rooms
The words hit me like a punch in the gut and my pulse quickened.
Me: You can't
Sonia: I already decided
I could feel the anger in her words. There was no convincing her now—not over text. This was a face-to-face conversation.
That night stretched endlessly. Every time I closed my eyes, my mind conjured images of her—Sonia smiling, Sonia laughing, Sonia with someone else.
Would they kiss? Would they share a bed? Would she touch someone else the way she touches me? Sonia can't change rooms.
When the first rays of sunlight broke through the curtains, I threw myself into the shower. The hot water did little to relax me, and my thoughts raced as I planned what to say.
By the time I arrived at campus, my head was pounding, my chest ached, and the lack of caffeine gnawed at my nerves. The walk from the parking lot to the hostels felt miles longer than usual.
The hallway was eerily quiet, the scent of disinfectant lingering in the air. I fumbled with my keys before finally unlocking the door to our shared room. It was just as I had left it—or worse.
God help me.
I tried to clean. I really did. But the chaos seemed to grow with every swipe of a cloth or rearrangement of furniture.
“Yoh,” Martha called, strolling in like she owned the place. She plopped onto my bed, her loose braids spilling over her shoulders.
“Not now,” I snapped, frantically collecting her pens from the ground. What does she need all these pens for?
“What are you doing with her stuff?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Nothing that should concern you.”
Martha’s sharp eyes softened for a moment, but I wasn’t in the mood to notice.
“Martha what is it?” I asked, pinching the bridge of my nose.
“Why are you so concerned about Sonia?” she pressed, her tone laced with curiosity.
"Why did you tell me Kora slept with Sonia?"
Her eyes widen and she sits properly on the bed. " Sonia slept with Kora!"
"No, so why did you tell me that they did."
I wouldn't be in this mess if she hadn't opened her stupid mouth.
"I said they kissed and left together in the morning."
I fall on the floor, letting my gaze pierce into hers. "Do you like her ?" She asks, her voice tinged with vulnerability.
“No.”
She shakes her head, opening the door. “—yeah keep telling yourself that.”
I collapsed onto the bed, my head spinning. I’m supposed to be focused on basketball, on classes, on anything but this girl. And yet, she’s all I can think about.
" Martha I thought I told you I want to be alone," I yell, when the door creaks open.
" It's not Martha."
The voice has me on my feet. The knot in my chest was unraveling yet it was only getting bigger. Her natural hair framed her face in a soft halo, and her eyes were tired but guarded.
“You’re back,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Mhmm,” she replied, dropping her bag onto the bed and scanning the room. My nails dig into the flesh of my palm and all the air is sucked out of me. Is she noticing?
“Please don’t move out,” I blurted. The desperation in my voice made me cringe.
She raised an eyebrow. “Why should I stay?”
“Because of you.”
Her expression softened, just a little. For a moment, there was silence, the weight of unspoken feelings filling the space between us.
"Why did you send me that voice mail?" She asked, sitting down.
"I was mad and jealous."
" Jealous of who?"
"Kora.”
YOU ARE READING
The Sweetest Fruit ( Tomboy 🏳️🌈Love Story )
Romance[18+] Sports College Romance. Cover art by@emilycatewrites
