' 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗦𝗘𝗡𝗗 𝗠𝗘 𝗦𝗪𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗜𝗡 ' › D. SWING

24.

( two weeks later )

Rhonda.

I had been helping Donald around his house for about two weeks now, and he was slowly healing since he was on bed rest majority of the time. Every other day, the doctor would send a nurse over to check up on him and each time, they would say he's better than he was the last time they saw him. He wasn't, though. I mean, physically speaking, he was progressing. But, psychologically? It had gotten pretty bad. Donald was always a closed-off kind of guy but now he was extremely antisocial and depressed. Barely spoke, barely ate, and barely showered so I would have to run his water for him. He didn't even bother getting his hair cut anymore. He let it grow out and honestly, it looked terrible. But he was still my Donny, though most women wouldn't even bother to look his way right now. Most of the females he got attention from only "cared" because of his looks, dick, and money. They didn't really try to get to know him, or understand him like I did. Regardless of all that he had done to me, I loved him. That wasn't going to change because our relationship is deeper than minor issues like cheating and a few words here and there. Yeah, we fall out a lot but we were best friends—family, even. He was all I knew.

Nasir wasn't too happy that I was staying in Los Angeles under the same roof as Donny but I ignored his frustration. I couldn't just leave him in the condition he was in just because Nasir was feeling insecure. If he didn't trust me, he shouldn't be in a relationship with me. It's pointless stress.

I walked into Donny's spacious master bedroom holding a tray of food and beverage. I knew he wouldn't eat large portions so I had given him small ones and a bowl of peanut butter for his protein. He hated eating it but I wasn't going to watch him lose weight and possibly starve to death.

"Ugh. This bullshit again? Come on, Rho. Ease up on the peanut butter", he complained as he picked up his fork and knife, cutting into the smoked salmon. I just rolled my eyes and sat down on the edge of the bed next to him, reaching forward to run my fingers though his matted fro. He hissed as my fingers snagged his hair, getting caught in his naps. "Ah! Quit, damn!", he blurted as he moved his head away, quickly eating what was on his fork.

I laughed, "You need to let me do something to that head of yours. Look like a crackhead did your edge up for a nickel and two pennies."

"Ha ha ha. Very funny", he said, trying not to laugh only to smirk instead, revealing that he was amused.

I giggled and gently ran my hand over his hair again as he flinched, "Relax, cry baby." He kissed his teeth and continued to eat his food, side-eyeing me. My hand traveled down to his face, resting onto his cheek. He still had faded bruises but he looked a lot better than he did at the hospital. He almost looked like himself again. Beginning to relax, he leaned back against the headboard, chewing as he looked at me. "What?", I asked, grinning slightly while tilted my head sideways a bit.

He chuckled softly and looked down at his plate, getting another forkful and putting it in his mouth, smacking louder than necessary as he spoke, "Why you ain't cook like this when we were together?"

My jaw dropped and I used my hand to lightly punch his shoulder while he laughed at me, "Fuck you, alright? My food wasn't nasty."

"It wasn't good, either", he added as he laughed some more. His smile. God, I loved his smile. The way his eyes the corners of his eyes would wrinkle a little and his gums would show when he's smiling or laughing too hard. I hadn't realized I was staring until his laughed slowly died down and he looked at me with concern, "What? I went too far?"

I slowly shook my head, my eyes still focused on him. I analyzed the structure of his jaw, the curve of his nose, the arch of his brows, his eyes that looked as if a candle was behind them while they blazed of a rare but light shade of brown. They were beautiful. I always disliked the fact that he would hide them with sunglasses but that was his preference majority of the time. He said he didn't like when people stared at him because it made him nervous. Nervous like he was now. He cleared his throat and shifted along the bed as his gaze fell back down onto the tray that was on his lap. Before he dig his fork into the plate again, I placed my hand on his wrist, stopping him as I leaned closer to press my lips against his forehead. He exhaled a breath he had apparently been holding as he set the fork back down before lifting his head so we were looking into each other's eyes. I can't describe the feeling that came over me. I didn't know why I kissed him. I didn't know why I yearned for something more than just our current friendship. It was like a magnetic pull—like gravity joining us together, our lips soon finding one another causing heat to flush through my body as chills ran down my spine. The kiss was slow and sensual, passionate and captivating. It was mesmerizing. The feel of his lips as they moved in unison with mine. His hands that latched onto my anatomy, caressing and groping it's areas of interest. I couldn't pull away. I didn't want to. Unfortunately, the kiss was cut short as he eased his head back to look at me, his expression filled with pain and anguish. I wasn't sure what to say. Had I done something?