Page 8 of You Made a Fool of Death with Your Beauty
Feyi broke up with Milan two weeks later. It wasn’t because of Nasir, not exactly, and it wasn’t quite a breakup, because they technically weren’t even dating. It was just that somewhere along the way, Feyi had started to feel like it wasn’t enough.
“But he’s so pretty!” Joy whined over brunch. “He can’t be that bad in bed.”
“He’s not bad at all! It’s just … it’s good. It’s nice.”
Joy winced. “Nice is not how you want your stroke game described.”
“It’s … pleasant?”
“Oh God.” Joy laughed. “Just stop. You’re killing both me and that poor guy’s reputation.” She signaled to a waiter for their mimosas to be refilled and looked at Feyi, tapping her acrylics against her empty glass. “What more did you want from him? A relationship?”
“Nah, fuck that.” Feyi dabbed at the corner of her mouth with her napkin, then dropped it into her lap, sighing. “I don’t know, really. More … oomph? More sparks? That first night in the bathroom was amazing, but the more we did it, the more … settled he became?”
“Same shit every time, huh?”
“Yo, like a restaurant where the menu never changes.” Feyi shook her head. “I tried asking if he wanted to switch it up, but it just … never happened.”
“So you want, like, more passion.”
“Maybe? Doesn’t that just fade eventually?”
“Oh, please.” Joy leaned back to let the waiter refill her glass. “Y’all weren’t some married couple going on their eleventh year of monotonous fucking or some shit. Doesn’t apply.”
Feyi smiled a thank-you at the waiter, then ran a finger along the cool edge of her glass. “He felt comfortable. Like a friend.”
Milan hadn’t seemed bothered when she told him she wanted to stop the sex. He’d asked if they could still hang out once in a while, and to her surprise, Feyi had been open to the idea, curious to see what it could look like without the fucking.
“Yikes.” Joy grimaced. “So what you’re saying is, Milan’s a goddamn teddy bear.”
“Shit. I guess I didn’t wanna fuck a teddy bear.”
Joy put down her mimosa. “Bye. You’re done.”
“I’m sorry!” Feyi laughed. “But it’s true.”
“Well, he had a good run.” Joy raised her glass. “To Milan, the teddy bear who’ll always be there if you do need your guts rearranged.”
Feyi mock gasped, her lips curving in amusement. “That’s cold. He’s a person.”
“Like you give a fuck. Toast, bitch.”
They tapped their glasses together, a clear bell over the table.
“To Milan,” Feyi said.
Joy put down her glass and narrowed her eyes, already done with him and plotting ahead. “Okay, now, think about what you want next. Like what you really want.”
“I might take a break from this,” Feyi replied. “I don’t know if I want to get all intimate with someone else, you know?”
Joy ignored her completely. “Ooh, you need someone real nasty. Suck your toes and shit. Let you put a thumb in they ass. Keep it spicy.”
Feyi gave up. “I worry about you sometimes.”
“Worry about yourself. You’re the one who just cut off your dick supply.”
“Whatever. Tell me what’s going on with you.”
Feyi ate her poached eggs, listening as Joy told her about the married woman she was seeing, her therapist’s strong disapproval, the thrill she got from sneaking around with her. She made the appropriate sounds, but Joy’s question about what she really wanted still simmered at the back of Feyi’s mind, like an irritating splinter. She knew what she wanted, and if she was being honest, she’d known it since that night at the bar, but Feyi didn’t want to want like that. She didn’t want to think about Nasir’s fumbling declarations or the way he looked at her, like he wanted more than her body. Feyi preferred to believe that he didn’t know what he wanted, and she most certainly preferred to ignore how good it had felt to be seduced by that kind of attention.