Tappin' On Thirty by Candice Dow Read Free Book Online

folded his arms and leaned on the sink. “Taylor, I guess I needed to know too.”
    â€œNeeded to know what?”
    â€œIf I still cared about you. I hadn’t thought about us for years. When you put it out there Friday, I thought you were trippin’. When we kissed, I felt like . . .”
    He shrugged his shoulders like it was so simple. I longed to hear him say he needed me in his life. I desperately asked, “What did you feel?”
    â€œWhat did I tell you last night?”
    As I struggled for each response, I felt guilty. His ability to communicate his emotions is what separated him from every other man I’ve dated. Was this a result of me hurting him? Did I create this stoic man in front of me? I pouted. “I don’t know.”
    â€œI don’t think I’ll ever love anyone like I loved you.”
    He stressed the past tense on his statement. Still, I clung to his every syllable. I gazed into his eyes. “So, what’s next?”
    He hugged me. “I don’t know. We’ll see. You know I’m in a relationship.”
    The sting from his honesty silenced me. He was a grownass man and not the little sucker who used to be madly in love with me. I proceeded to get ready for work. Scooter watched TV until I was done and didn’t appear interested in discussing our future.
    We had coffee and debated current events. I scrutinized his words and gestures and found nothing but a man who belonged to someone else. Who is she? Finally, I grabbed my things and we walked out through my garage. Outside, he grabbed me and held me tightly. I searched for more in the embrace. Offering me just an inkling of hope, he kissed my cheek and promised to call.

5
    SCOOTER
    J ust when I settled with not having it all, the full package waltzes back into my life and claims she still loves me. For the life of me, I had no plan to be driving to my parents’ house this morning overwhelmed with confusion. Guilt stricken, I read Akua’s messages. WHERE ARE YOU? WHAT ARE YOU DOING? CALL ME.
    How could I come home for three days and find myself questioning if she’s even the person I want to be with?
    When I walked into my parents’ house, my mother was up and ready for work. As soon as I opened the door, she grunted. I walked into the kitchen and kissed her cheek. She twisted her lips. “Where have you been, boy?”
    â€œAm I grown?”
    â€œYeah, you’re grown, but when your little girlfriend starts ringing my phone at seven in the morning . . . she put her hand on her hip. “Then, I got the right to ask where you been.”
    My eyebrows wrinkled. “She called here?”
    She nodded inquisitively.
    â€œWhat did she say?”
    â€œI didn’t answer. Hell, I didn’t know what to tell her.”
    I kissed her cheek. “You’re my girl.”
    She rolled her eyes. “Uh-huh.”
    I laughed. “I drank too much last night and I crashed over my boy’s house.”
    She rolled her neck. “You don’t have to lie to me.”
    â€œMa, you’re a trip.”
    She grabbed her keys and walked to the garage door. “Look who’s talking.”
    I smirked, and she said, “Boy, don’t you come here and lose your mind.”
    I contemplated calling Akua with the scent of another woman reeking on me. Instead, I hopped in the shower first. The urge to smoke a cigarette kidnapped my senses. Smoking is a habit I picked up in medical school as a stress reliever. Knowing its effects forces me to try to kick the habit, but I can’t seem to shake it. Akua’s constant warnings have decreased my intake, but still in stressful situations, I revert back to my dependency.
    I carried the cordless phone outside, along with a pack of Marlboro Lights. I took a puff to dismantle my guilt before dialing my girl.
    After a quarter of a ring, she picked up. “Where the hell have you been?”
    I took another puff.