Page 42 of A Little Kissing Between Friends

Jucee

Breaking the Seal

We’re just friends.

We’re just friends.

We’re just friends.

I had to keep repeating it to myself in hopes that the chant would actually affect the pure, uncut rage I’d felt at seeing Lil Miss Afro Puffs at the door of Rhythm & Rainbows. That was compounded by the pure, uncut rage I’d felt when Poppa hugged her and barely spared me a glance. That wasn’t how we treated each other.

Well, it wasn’t before.

And, like it or not, things were different now. It likely didn’t help that I’d been missing in action for the past week. I’d needed time to process, but time did not heal these wounds, because being away from Poppa felt more like a punishment than a necessary device for healing. It was because I missed her as much as I did that I called her back a couple of hours after ignoring her call immediately after leaving the studio.

“You mad at me?” was how Poppa started the conversation. Surprised, I burst into laughter and felt the tension in my shoulders lessen. I could handle humor.

“No, Poppa. I’m not mad at you.”

“So then you’re coming over later to watch the music awards, right?”

My lips parted as I tried to work that out in my head. I didn’t actually have a reason to say no, other than my concern about being alone with her.

We are just friends.

We are just friends.

We are just friends.

With my mantra repeating in my mind like stock market ticker tape, I agreed to go back to the scene of the crime. It was dramatic, but it was exactly how I felt. However, if I wanted to maintain our friendship, I was going to have to get back to doing the normal things we did together. That meant saying yes when my mind was asking me if that was such a smart idea.

Saying yes is precisely how I ended up in this predicament.

You know when you go out drinking and you’re throwing ’em back all night without having to pee and shit is cool? You’re having a great time, laughing, twerking on your friends, and singing every song the DJ plays at the top of your lungs. Your bladder is being the MVP of the night, holding you down, allowing you to stay on the floor having a good-ass time, but then you have that one drink that puts you over the top and suddenly you have to pee so bad you might not make it to the bathroom in time. And once you pee, it feels glorious, like you’ve poked a hole in a water balloon and the swollen bubble is deflating at a rapid pace.

The problem is, once you pee that first time, you’re no longer able to hold it in for longer than fifteen minutes, and now you’re running back and forth to the bathroom all night.

You broke the fucking seal.

That’s how I felt about sleeping with Poppa.

Nearly a year without having sex had made me mellow. Even with grinding my covered pussy in folks’ faces for a living, I didn’t even desire to change that fact. One night with Cyndi Thomas changed that. I’d been activated, and now I was in go mode. We were just supposed to be watching an awards show, but I was unreasonably horny and unable to do anything but fantasize about the things I hadn’t gotten the chance to do to Poppa.

Each scenario of how I wanted to twist her up like soft pretzel from a baseball concessions stand was playing on my mind the entire time that I sat next to her that night. I couldn’t even pay attention and definitely couldn’t have told you who won what, even if I needed that information to save my life. If Poppa noticed I was distracted, she didn’t say anything, and I was too zoned out to catch any curious looks she may have aimed my way. I didn’t even know the show was over until the lights came on and Poppa tapped my foot. Her touch got my attention, but it took me a second to come out of thoughts of her calves on my shoulders.

“You aight?” she asked, eyebrows raised, her expression a mix of concern and amusement.

Lifting my arms above my head, I stretched and nodded. “Yeah, I’m good.” I stood up and grabbed my keys off of the coffee table. “I’m getting sleepy, so I’mma head out though.” I was the furthest thing from sleepy but what I was wasn’t something that could be addressed in her presence, so it was best if I bounced. Amani was with Samir because Pooh had a recital and it didn’t make sense to bring him home late, and I was off on Wednesdays, so there was no other reason for me to leave but to keep from trying to jump her bones again. That was a good enough reason, to be honest.

Poppa stood up as well and frowned. “Since when do you need to leave just because you’re sleepy?”

I refused to answer that. It had only been a few hours since I’d seen her all hugged up with another woman, and I clearly wasn’t as strong as she was. There was no way I could have a fucking sleepover like we hadn’t just been hunching less than two weeks ago. Grabbing my shoes from the side of the couch, I bent to step into them and tie my laces. Righting, I faked a yawn and headed toward the front door.

“I have a bed, I’m gonna go sleep in it. No biggie.”

If she wanted to say more, she’d have to say it to my back, because after I quickly pecked her on the cheek, I damn near sprinted toward the front door. I could feel her presence at my heels as she followed behind me, and I for sure felt her eyes on my ass with each step I took. It had been in her eyes that she didn’t want me to leave, but just like me, she was holding back in an effort to preserve something that I hadn’t thought was in danger. That was okay. I didn’t want her to feel backed into a corner, but I had my boundaries and if I did nothing else, I was gonna stick to them. Curled up under someone who was adamant about us keeping things in the box they’d always been in wasn’t a brand of torture I wanted to subscribe to.

I was steps from the door, hand extended toward the knob to let myself out, when Cyn grabbed me and pulled me over to the side, out of the path to the door. Startled, I blinked at her.