Talk To Me | •Slow Down Sequel•

Chapter 13- (Plez DON'T) CuT me oFF.

Ayona

I was ready to storm out of the coffee shop. I wanted to leave, but he grabbed me. "Yona, stop running off every time I try to talk to you."

"Tory, let go of me."

He'd had a hand on my waist, stirring things in me feelings I'd wished were gone. It'd always amazed me, how he had so much strength but still, he handled me like fragile art. 

I groaned, Porsha was going to hear an earful about this bullshit. "It's Tory, now?" I didn't say anything. "Just come sit with me, we gotta talk."

People were starting to look, as if Tory might've been trying to kidnap me.

For a second there, I was tempted to start screaming, "Help!! Help!!", but I resisted. That would've been petty and it probably would've fucked him up professionally.

I didn't fight him as he guided me to a couch in the very back. I sat down, sipping my lemonade. He eyed me, probably waiting for me to utter the first word, but I was determined to stay closed off. I didn't need him.

"How've you been?" I rolled my eyes, "I guess this what we doing now? Acting like this a high school reunion." He shook his head, "You always had a smart ass mouth on yo-"

I needed to get out of here, "Yea, how you think this came to be?" I asked, my hands naturally came up to cradle my protruded stomach. A few more moments went by, "Is he the father?" He looked hesitant to ask the question, but the fact that he'd asked me anyway grated my nerves.

Naturally, as a defense mechanism, I'd went and hit him with a low blow. "If you were, I'd be with you. Now wouldn't I?"

I knew I'd went too far, he'd looked like I'd looked him in the eye and shot him—without hesitating. The look in his eyes, hurt me. I didn't know why I'd gone there.

I loved-- no I still love him. I was too stubborn to think, I'd ever find someone to care about me and love me, so I was pushing him away. And by the look in his eyes, I knew. I knew that was all it would take, for him to leave me.

His eyes searched mine, looking for any signs that I was hopefully lying, but I'd mastered hiding my emotions over the years. My heart had grown cold—a block of ice now laid in my chest over the years of pimping—hence the reason why I'd clung to Khalil, unfortunately.

Only after I'd met him—Daystar Peterson—did it thaw out in the slightest.

He tore his gaze from mine, his hands coming up to cradle his head. In that moment my hand itched to touch him, comfort him, but I refrained from doing so.

"I'm so damn stupid," I heard him mutter. A sharp pang echoed in my chest.

Without so much as a look, he got up. "Don't worry about Porsha setting anything up. It won't happen again. Take care of yaself." He left.

I watched his back, trying to internalize every detail of him. Once he was out of my sight, nervously I grabbed my lemonade, sucking through the straw. No amount of lemonade could help me drown out what I was feeling.

I wished the couch would swallow me as a few people sitting by me judged me with their eyes. "What?!" Grabbing my purse and my empty plastic cup—only a few cubes of ice laid within—I got up, on the way out of the shop. I threw the cup in a trash can near the exit, and headed for work.