[De] Attachment (A PartyNextDoor Story)

.19

~~ Nakita T. Ncube ~~
Friday June 20th 2014
Toronto, Canada.

I open the door with my apron on. He's stood on the other side holding a little box.

"It's your weed" he says. I kiss him before letting him in.

"You're early" I say.

"Just wanted to check you ain't plotting on me" I roll my eyes as I walk into the kitchen. "It smells good in here. Damn what are you making?"

"Chicken parmigiana and spaghetti." I say as I walk over to the oven. I open it to check and it still needs a few more minutes.

"You listen to Peter Tosh?" He asks me taking note of the song that's currently playing.

"Yea. All of that. Bunny Wailer, Sizzla, Buju, Capleton"

"Little reggae fan I see"

"Umm huge reggae fan. Reggae is my favourite genre"

"That hurts my heart. RnB should be your favourite"

"Why cause you're an RnB singer?"

"Exactly"

"I'm sorry but it's reggae. Reggae has the right vibe. You could listen to dancehall, roots reggae or Ragga and still get that vibe"

"You live and breathe music" he says.

"Are you okay?" I ask as I look at him after shutting the oven.

"Yea I'm okay" he says but to me it's evident he's lying. I walk over to him and put my hand on his face. He picks me up, setting me on the counter.

"You're so small" he says as he stands between my legs.

"I'll beat your ass. But not right now cause you're sad"

"I don't really like talking bout shit" I rake through my head searching for the words to say. I cup his face in my hands.

"Zikhula futhi wabelane amaphiko" I say.

"I don't know what you said but that was beautiful" he says making me smile.

"It's a Zulu proverb. It means no stake ever grew old with the bark on"

"Babe I have no idea what you're trying to tell me" he just called me babe.

"I'm not a pro at this but it means the truth will come out so you might as well let it set you free" I say.

"I can say the same for you" my heart thuds in my chest.

"We're talking bout you" I say.

"True. Okay basically-"

"I'm not forcing you to tell me lmao. I'm just saying you need to talk about it" I hop down off the counter.

"Nooo I gotta tell you now" he says grabbing my arm.

"My pasta though" he chuckles as he lets me go. I walk to my pasta. I grab the pasta strainer and place it in the sink. I stand on my tip toes as I look into the pot. I pick it up and pour it into the pasta strainer. Once it's strained, I pour the pasta back in the pot.