Page 65 of Roman Blake
That made my chest hurt.
I grabbed my clothes, got dressed in his bathroom, and left a little note on his nightstand ‘cause I ain’t feel like hearin’ his mouth about me ghostin’ without sayin’ nothin’.
Thanks for last night. I needed it.
Then I left.
I told myself I was doin’ him a favor.
Whatever he felt for me wasn’t healthy.
And whatever I was startin’ to feel back? That shit was dangerous.
For the next week, I pulled back…for real this time.
No late-night pull-ups.
No comin’ to the club just to see him.
No layin’ up on his couch pretendin’ we was “just chillin’.”
When he texted, I answered dry.
When he called, I let it ring and hit him back hours later, if at all.
At first he pressed.
Where you at?
You good?
You mad at me?
Then… nothin’.
The last two days, my phone had been silent as hell.
No Roman… No “text me when you home.”
No “you eat?”
Part of me felt relieved.
Another part of me felt… off.
Like I’d got used to somebody lookin’ for me and now the quiet was loud as fuck.
But I told myself this was what I wanted.
He was finally gettin’ the picture.
He’d realize I wasn’t built to be nobody’s woman and we’d both move on.
Right?
“Girl, you not hearin’ me,” April said, shakin’ her head as we walked out of Longhorn Steakhouse after dinner one night. “Royce said he had to tell Roman to chill.”
I frowned. “Chill on what?”
