Distractions (D. SWING)

42

No Going Back

Giggling, I scoot closer to DeVante in the seat.

Hours following my departure, I still have a swollen face. After he scooped me up and into his arms a force hit me in my gut. Next thing you know, I'm ugly crying all the way to our terminal across the airport. My emotions were at an all time high and Dalvin staring at me from the other side of the group only made me feel awkward. He isn't going directly back with us. Says he got some unfinished business. I didn't care to about anything he had to say. I was too busy crying, knowing that my moment will be printed in five hundred Right On! and Tiger Beat magazines within the next month. Sometimes I forget that even with no album, no single, no anything with the exception of a World Music Awards performance three months ago, I'm still not all the way out of the spotlight.

"I'm just sayin', like, how is that shit that wide? And, fo'real, l–like on a real fuckin' tip... what could make you think a mothafucka' wanna' put his dick that? Gone fuck around and have to file a missing persons case messing with them hoes."

Sighing, I shake my head against his shoulder. "I really wonder if your parents realize they made you this way because you are too much sometimes," I laugh. "Really."

As my laughter dies dow, DeVante says, "Now you know they didn't make me this way." I let a sentimental moment slip past... as I am far too emotional right now. His eyes glance over at me as a response to my silence. "You straight, right?" My head nods against his shoulder. "I ain't see you cry like that... ever, I don't think."

"It won't happen again," I assure him.

His fingers gently tap against my back as I watch his leg swing. "Good." Smacking my lips, I lean away from him to mug him. "I can't spend the rest of my life with no punk. That's too much for me. I'on do too many tears like that."

"Well if you're spending the rest of your life with me, you should expect some occasional tears." The swinging of his leg rises in the cadence of it's left to right tick. I adjust the blanket around myself as I begin to realize what he'd said to me. My head tilts to the far left, fueling all internal amusement in regards to his words. "The rest of your life," I question. His lips curl inward as they purse and he nods his head in confirmation of what term I've questioned. "What makes you think I want to spend the rest of my life with you?" I mean... Ladies and gentleman, forever is a mighty long time.

He chuckles to himself lowly. "Because I wanna' spend mines with you."

"Why?"

I know what I'm doing and it is not doubting him, I understand if that is what it looks like. In all actuality, I only want to see how comfortable he feels expressing his emotions towards me in a deeper sense. I wish he could be more open. Here we are going on almost two years of an official relationship and he is still having a hard time completely being emotionally free when it comes to me.

It makes me wonder. It makes me wonder a lot of things. I know who hurt me, I know how he hurt me, I know when he hurt me, I know where he hurt me and I know how old I was. I can go down the checklist for all three of them.  One thing he's never gone into detail is why he is so afraid of loving me. Is it his pride? Am I the reason he is afraid of love? Does my past second-handily haunt him? I cannot think of any other set of reasons that could contribute to the constant apprehensiveness that he carries on his shoulders when it comes to self expression. I can't blame it on his lack of mental connection between his brain, heart, and vocal expression abilities. He can try when he really wants to.

He frustrates me!

But who am I to force him into a position that he clearly isn't ready for. After all, I did give him full creative control of this relationship. So, who am I to critique driving from the passenger's seat? No one. I refuse to waste my breath until I'm blue in the face and we crash right into the pole on that one particular island following the exit off of the freeway to get home.