ZARA's P.O.V
What does he want from me now, after everything? I shake my head, wiping the last of my tears with my sleeve. This man thinks he can just pop back into my life like he didn't break something inside me. Ordering me an alcoholic ans lie that isn't? Trying to trick me into bed?
I let the phone ring on its own, tossing it to the side of the couch.
"Disrespectful bastard", I mutter under my breath.
The phone rings again. I glare at it before snatching it up. "What?"
He pauses.
"Are you crying?", his voice is low and smooth.
"What do you want, Jermaine?", I ask, forcing my voice to steady. I don't want him hearing the crack in it.
"I'm outside", he says, like it's no big deal. But my heart skips a beat.
I pause, trying to collect myself, "Why are you outside?" My words come out harder than I intend, but the small joint in my stomach betrays me.
"Just come out, Zara, and we'll talk if you want."
No, I don't want to. Not now. Not after everything. But my soul....my soul it tired. And maybe it needs to hear something, anything, to make sense of this chaos. "Give me a minute"
I hang up,staring at the phone in my hand. What am I doing? Tolerating him after all that? But it feels like everything is falling apart, so maybe... maybe this time I'll let him in. Just enough to talk about bullsh*t he did.
I roll a joint to calm my racing thoughts, taking my time with it. After a perfect cone formed, I heard downstairs, locking my place behind me.
When I see his car parked by the lot, my body suddenly stiffens. Do I even want to do this? But I keep walking, arms folded and eye puffed from crying. Jermaine steps and lock his eyes with mine as he closes the door. I stop a few feet away, letting him come to me.
"Zara, look I–"
"Come this way", I cut him off, turning towards the smoking area near the pool. It's a nice little sanctuary of peace. There's tables built in with concrete benches, and small ash trays placed in the middle of each. There's also shelves of pot plants and a fountain with flowers surrounding it.
It's the only place I can think of right now where we can talk; I don't want him up in my apartment.
Once we sit, I light up my joint and exhale slowly through my nostrils, watching him take out a Marlboro cigarette box. He pulls out a cigarette and then hesitates; I can tell he's thinking about how I feel about that.
"It's okay", I whisper.
Whatever, it doesn't matter if he smokes cancer sticks. Nothing does anyway.
Jermaine lights his cigarette and than tak a slow drag before speaking. "Yeah you must be going through a difficult time if you don't give a damn about cigarette smoke"
I give him a look; a look that says 'what do you want?'
He sighs, "I haven't been doing good since we last talked,k namsayin? And I can tell the same goes for you", his gaze holds mine like he's trying to pierce into my soul.
