Page 22 of Body Language (Mind, Body, & Soul #2)

Kendrix

I ain’t even gon’ lie. Since the moment Pretty left that damn club, flipping me the bird like I was some weak ass man, she’d been stuck in my head like my favorite hook.

I tried to bury myself in work. Meetings. Calls. Even hit the gym like I had demons to sweat out. It didn’t matter. Shorty was in every thought.

And the wildest part was that she was probably somewhere laughing, legs crossed, sipping on champagne somebody else bought, like I wasn’t still tasting her on my tongue.

That shit had me tight. It wasn’t even about the sex. Hell, we ain’t even fucked yet. My dumb ass. It was the way she moved. That confidence. That cutthroat feminism that made me feel like I had to step my game up just to stand next to her.

But at the same time, it pissed me the fuck off.

I knew she was the type to remind you every five minutes that you didn’t own her. That she could walk away whenever the fuck she felt like it. And that was cute… until I realized I wanted her walking to me, not away from me.

I leaned back in my chair, staring at my phone like I could force her name to pop up.

Nothing.

Not a text. Not a missed call. Not even one of them little “wyd” joints.

“Aight, Pretty. Bet.”

I told myself I wasn’t about to chase her. I wasn’t that nigga. But the way my chest felt heavy as hell when I imagined her with somebody else… Yeah, I was lying like shit.

I already knew I was gone call her. Matter fact, I was two seconds from pulling up unannounced. I try not to get like that but when I lock in, I lock in.

The bar was so quiet that it made a man sit in his thoughts too long. I looked over at my brother, Kross.

He leaned back, smirking. “You been off your game, bro.”

I chuckled low, shaking my head. “Damn, can’t I just sit and chill with my brother without an interrogation?”

“Nah,” he said, sipping his drink slow. “Not when you look like you fighting with yourself. That’s not business stress. That’s woman stress. Spill it.”

I stared at the glass in front of me before I picked it up. “She different, Kross.”

His eyebrow shot up. “Different how?”

I exhaled, feeling stupid as hell for even saying it out loud.

“She want titles. Without them, she says she moves how she wanna move. At first, I thought she was just running game… but she stands on it. And the wild part is that I respect it. Shit, I like it. But it’s messing with me because I ain’t gon’ lie.

I want more than what she’s offering right now. ”

Kross’s smirk faded. He studied me for a second, his usual playboy grin wasn’t there. “That sound like me and Rivah.”

I looked up. “You serious about her?”

He nodded, eyes distant like he was picturing her. “Dead serious. She got this way of making me want to be still. Like I don’t gotta run nowhere, don’t gotta prove shit. She calls me out, makes me better, and don’t even realize she doing it.”

For a second, we just sat there in silence. Two niggas who spent most their lives dodging feelings, now confessing like we was at Sunday service.

“You know it’s crazy?” I said finally. “I thought Kairo would be the only one to fold. Married at eighteen, swore he had it figured out. Fifteen years later, he out here risking everything for some dumb shit.”

Kross shook his head. “Yeah, he’s putting everything else above what’s really important. I never wanted anyone in my space longer than a weekend. Rivah changed that. Got me thinking about shit I used to laugh at. Sunday mornings. Family dinners. Shit, even a future.”

I let out a dry laugh, rubbing the back of my neck. “Sound like you in deep.”

He shot me a look. “Sound like you are too, bro. You ain’t talked like this since…”

He didn’t finish. He didn’t have to.

I ain’t never told nobody this. Not my brothers. Not my pops. Not even my mama. But fuck it, you gone know, because maybe if I say it out loud, it’ll stop eating me alive.

Her name was Megan.

I met her when we were kids, running around while our dads did business.

At first, her old man wasn’t with it. Me hanging around his daughter like I had a chance in hell.

But you can’t stop what’s meant. We grew up together.

Laughed together. Then one day, I looked at her and realized she wasn’t just the girl with the big smile and louder laugh and I wanted her.

Senior year of highschool, we were in deep.

No games. Just me and her. She got pregnant, but only we knew.

She was scared as hell that her daddy would’ve lost his fucking mind.

I was ready to man up. Ready to give her everything, ready to protect them both.

Then one rainy-ass night… she was driving home from cheer practice. Lost control. They said she went quick. That she didn’t feel anything. But I don’t believe that. I believe she was scared. And I wasn’t there.

I lost her. And the baby.

That shit changed me. Broke me. I swore then that I’d never love a woman again.

So yeah, when Arlette came along later… it wasn’t love. Never was. But when she pulled that pregnancy test out and she lost that baby after that accident, it fucked with my head. Triggered everything I buried. I felt like I owed her, like if I walked away, I’d be betraying Megan all over again.

So, I stayed. Even when I didn’t want her. Even when she started showing me who she really was. It wasn’t about her. It was about my guilt.

And the fucked-up part? My family never knew and still don’t. People who knew I dealt with Arlette thought it was because it was something to do. Nah. It was trauma. It was me trying to fix something I couldn’t.

Niv is the first woman since Megan that made me even want to breathe love again. First one I wanted to risk being around my family. First one that got me thinking about futures I said I ain’t want no more.

And that’s the scariest shit of all. Because I already know what it feels like to lose it all in one night.

The drive to her place felt longer than it really was.

Truth was, I could’ve closed my eyes and made the trip blindfolded.

I gripped the wheel tighter than I needed to.

It wasn’t nerves. Nah, I don’t get nervous.

I’d been with many women. Dated ‘em, spoiled ‘em, fucked ‘em, and left ‘em. None of it ever shook me. But she did.

Hell, I still remembered the way she looked at me across that poker table. She didn’t say a word, but told me everything I needed to know with a little sway of her hips. Like she spoke a language only I could hear.

I ran a hand over my beard.

That stunt Arlette pulled at the club was uncalled for. Niv had every right to be pissed. I knew she was probably looking at me sideways, like I couldn’t keep my house in order. And I’d be damned if she lumped me in with them weak-ass niggas who thrive off chaos and let their women war for sport.

That wasn’t me. And I wanted her to know that wasn’t me.

I was driving through quiet streets, headlights bouncing off houses until I hit hers. You could tell she’d picked it for her people, not herself. That right there made me respect her more. She wasn’t living for show. She was living for her siblings that she carried on her back every damn day.

I pulled up to the curb and just sat there for a second. That was the part where most men would back off, give her space, and wait for things to blow over.

But I wasn’t about to let her slip.

Pretty, you up?

Her reply came fast:

Nope. Just texting you telepathically in my sleep.

I smirked, shaking my head. Smart ass.

Come outside.

Couple minutes later, the door cracked open. Then she stepped out in sweats and a bonnet, looking like temptation dipped in cocoa and comfort. Damn. She was the only woman I knew who could look like that and still make a nigga wanna risk it all.

She folded her arms. “What do you want? I got Netflix waiting on me.”

I leaned on my truck, eyes running down her frame like I paid the mortgage on it. “How was your time last night?”

Her face softened for a second, then she sighed. “Really good. And even ended very well.”

The way she said it… calm, real, no performance. I had to tell myself not to read or think too deep into her response. Otherwise, I would’ve been ready to put a bullet in somebody for being a part of her “ended very well.”

I cleared my throat. “Look, Pretty… I like you.”

She tilted her head, that bonnet catching the porch light. “Kendrix, a lot of men like me. That’s nothing new. But I don’t give them my attention.”

She took a step closer. “So what do you have that sets you apart? Because I thought it was something… but when you had your bitch doing reckless shit, I realized you aren’t worth my attention.”

Then she turned back towards the door like I was already dismissed, but I followed her.

“Goodnight.”

“Wait.” My voice came out rougher than I planned. “Give me a minute to prove what makes me different.”

She turned back slow, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised. “You got sixty seconds, Mr. Givelle.”

I nodded, pulled my phone out, scrolled to one contact that I’d just unblocked, and hit call.

“Hello?” Her voice popped up fast. Arlette.

Arlette picked up on the first ring, loud already.

“Arlette, listen to me and listen to be closely.”

Niv tilted her head like she didn’t expect that tone.

“Excuse me?!”

“You heard me. I just canceled every card you had tied to me. Every last one.”

Her breath hitched through the speaker. “What the fuck you mean—”

“I mean I wired thirty thousand to your account. That’s more than you’re owed. More than enough for you to move on, maybe move away, and start a life without using my name as your crutch.”

She started going off again, voice rising like static, but I didn’t let her finish.

“You’ve been overdue, Arlette. I let guilt keep you around. But that shit ends tonight.”

She screamed, “You can’t just erase me! And move away? GivGold is mine! If I’m not the face, then who the fuck is?!”