Page 4 of Ex- Factor

The rain had started in the middle of the game we hadn’t watched and hadn’t let up.

It had that steady rhythm that tapped the windows just soft enough to feel like ASMR and make me sleepy.

Everybody else—except Silas—had left a few hours ago. Angel packed up her man and her son. West and his girl left hand-in-hand, giggling like they were headed home to do some grown-up shit.

Silas had volunteered to help me clean up. I woke up and my apartment was immaculate, which I hadn’t expected from him. Then he helped me upstairs because I’d had too much wine and not enough water or food.

Now I was lying on my back in bed, wondering why I let this man stay over when he asked—claiming he came with Cassius and Angel and would drive their car back in the morning since they took an Uber.

I didn’t even pretend to object.

I was pulling a Donte all over again. Getting too excited, too fast, about a too-fine-ass man.

And I didn’t know shit about dealing with a white man, but then again, they were probably just like Black men and I was overthinking.

But then also… Silas felt different.

I can look back and see how it was my fault for forcing something with Donte that never really had a future. He told me that from day one and I hadn’t listened. I was trying to find comfort in chaos, hoping if I loved him enough, he’d become the man he wasn’t.

But Silas—he made the space feel lighter, and nothing felt forced between us. I could tell he was a fuckboy in the past, but he seemed like he wanted better for himself. And who was I to judge him?

I heard the bathroom door open before I turned to look. I had showered before him and was snuggled under the covers in a pair of tights and a t-shirt. No lingerie or cute little pajama shorts like I wore when I usually let a man stay over. I didn't need him thinking he was fucking tonight.

He came out with a towel slung around his neck, gym shorts hanging from his hips, no shirt, wet hair slicked back like he was auditioning for a movie.

And God damn—his body was everything.

He was toned, lean, and cut. My gaze drifted down. There were tattoos everywhere.

The centerpiece was a phoenix. It wasn’t a cheap tat—it looked like something you paid a few thousand for because you wanted to show off.

There was a jester’s hat that matched his personality. Under it was script: If a clown wore a crown, I’d be a king.

And a peacock feather in all different shades of blue.

I ran my tongue across my teeth, thinking about the kiss from earlier.

Okay, I admit it—he was sexy.

He walked over and sat on the edge of my bed, his eyes scanning my face.

“You’re so pretty,” he said.

“I know,” I replied. I wasn’t being rude or cocky. My granny always said never take the truth as a compliment—because then you’ll start doubting it when nobody says it out loud.

I lifted a hand, curious and drunk-bold. Well, I had always been bold, but I’d blame it on the liquor tonight. My fingers landed on the peacock feather. I traced it with my fingertips—his skin was hot to the touch.

“You’re braver than I expected,” he said, catching my wrist. He pressed my hand flat against his chest. His heart was thumping fast.

“You see what you do to me,” he said, all smooth. That sent a ripple through my whole body—

I swallowed hard.

My mouth had suddenly gone dry, and my pussy was hot enough to melt my panties.

He continued.

“And now you gotta take responsibility for it.”

I sighed.

Ooh chile, Jesus be some discernment—because he had me ready to do something I was almost positive I wouldn’t regret in the morning, which was exactly why I didn’t need to do it.

I was healing. Trying to work on myself.

I needed to be alone for a while.

I tilted my head, let my eyes trace his face. “Silas…” I started, not even knowing what I was about to say. I stopped myself and switched gears.

“You don’t even look drunk,” I said, squinting at him.

“I’m not.” He smirked. “I did a lot of coke when I was younger. A few glasses of liquor do nothing to me. I tricked you into letting me stay because I just needed a few more hours with you.”

I pulled my hand back, blinking. “You always this honest?”

“Not always. Hardly ever.”

I studied his face.

He wasn’t joking.

“Damn,” I said. “Well, thanks for the honesty. Why now?”

He just shrugged, like it didn’t cost him anything to share.

“Because lying didn’t get me anything worth keeping, so I stopped.”

Then he laid back on my bed like it was his. Arms folded behind his head. Hair still wet, dripping onto my pillow.

I didn’t know what to do with this. I wasn’t used to honesty from a man.

A beat of silence passed before he spoke again.

“So what happened?” he asked, voice low. “Since the club. With him. Your eyes aren’t so sad anymore.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re nosy.”

“I am. West told you that. And I’m persistent.”

“I don’t want to tell it,” I said honestly. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Tell me anyway.”

I turned toward him, one leg bent up on the comforter.

“You’re pushy. But what happened was… he got married. To my ex-best friend.”

His brows lifted slightly. “Really? One of the women at the club?”

I nodded. “Yes. They got a baby on the way and everything. Real happily-ever-after type shit. Or so it seems on Instagram. My loss always seems to be another woman’s win.”

Silas stared at me for a beat, then said, “What’s his name and address?”

“What you mean?” I asked.

“I’ll go beat his ass.”

I laughed. Loud and real.

“You sound crazy.”

“Not crazy. I just don’t like to think about you hurting.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“Don’t need to,” he said. “He hurt you. That’s enough.”

I looked at him for a while. Let the silence fill the room between us.

The rain picked up again outside, tapping harder on the windows.

He didn’t say anything else. Just stayed there. Existing. Calmly.

I should’ve been suspicious of this man, saying all the right things, but for some reason… I wasn’t.

“You’re different,” I whispered.

“Is that a good thing?” he asked.

I nodded. “We’ll see.”

We talked after that. Not about Donte.

About dumb stuff. About Ekon.

I told him about my granny and how much I missed her.

Eventually, my eyes got heavy. My words slowed. I could feel myself drifting, my body relaxing into the mattress.

“You falling asleep on me, Eshe?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Goodnight then,” he whispered.

And right before I slipped under, I felt him brush his lips against my forehead.

That shit would have been my undoing if I wasn’t so sleepy.

I would’ve given him some coochie.

And that was worrisome, I thought—just before I slipped into Neverland.