Things We Lost In the Fire

When U Love Somebody

Prince's Perspective

"Hi." Twisting the diamond encrusted ring on my pinky, I watched as Jasmin teetered on her heels. Shifting her gaze from me to Morgan and then back on me, it was clear she was attempting to assess the situation.

She had an unreadable expression on her face as she finally croaked, "Hey."

Morgan clapped her hands together and began pacing backwards. "Well, I'll leave you two alone, my work here is finished. Thank you for the wedding gift."

"Your welcome Morgan, congratulations again." Turning to watch her sister prance back to the ballroom, I observed her tense demeanor. Rubbing her hand up and down her upper arm, I didn't understand why she was acting so shy around me. I haven't seen this side of her since I first laid eyes on her.

One of my recurring fears with her being away was that the longer she stayed away, the faster she would fall out of love with me. It's unapparent where her feelings are at right in this moment. I took it as some sign of hope when the glint from her diamond bracelet caught my eye.

"Where's your ring?", I asked her, concerned as to why she would take it off when she knows the meaning behind it.

She looked down at her bare hand. "I didn't want people hounding me tonight about whether it was an engagement ring or not. Why are you here?"

"You said if it was meant to be, I would find you. Do you not want me here?" That was a question I really needed answered. I felt like her leaving so abruptly was a ploy to avoid this hurdle. She's been back in town and we still hadn't seen each other. This was the only sure way I knew she'd have no choice but to hear me out.

She stumbled on her words as her big brown eyes became glassy. "N-No, I mean I do want you here. I'm glad you came."

An uncomfortable silence fell between us momentarily. Giving her one long look over, I noticed she had slimmed down some, but not too much. The curvy silhouette that I cherished was still prominent. Biting down on my bottom lip, I asked her, "Jazz, why are you standing all the way over there?"

She shrugged, "I don't know, maybe because we're in public." After three long months of yearning for her touch, I could care less who saw us together.

"Come here."

Slowly but surely she walked towards me, her healthy hips swaying in that peach taffeta dress. Pulling her into me by her waist, the tenseness she once had faded away. Burying my face in her neck, the familiar scent of her favorite Yves Saint Laurent perfume and coconut oil filled my nostrils.

She shuddered as I placed a tender kiss directly below her earlobe. As I inched closer to her sweet spot, she said in a low voice, "Maybe we should go somewhere and talk."

The ride to her house was a quiet one. Popping in a tape compiled with some blues tracks I had been working on, a smile formed on my face when out of the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of her nodding her head along to it. Extending my arm over the middle console, I intertwined my fingers with hers.

Stepping foot into her house felt surreal. As she told me to make myself at home, rather than the good memories we shared here, the first thing that crossed my mind was the fight we had. The pained look on her face when my harsh words cut through her haunted me.

Filtering through the magazines on her coffee table, my heart sunk as I saw a brochure for a pre-school in Orlando. I had to get to the bottom of this.

Flipping through her newest issue of Ebony magazine, I heard her bedroom door creak before she appeared around the corner in nothing but her oversized black and gold NPG jersey. Clutching a bottle of unscented body lotion in one hand, her straightened ebony locks bounced against her shoulders as she floated towards the sectional. She cut her hair?