Carnal Stimulation

INTERLUDE II: FREEDOM

4 years, 5 months, 19 days, and 12 hours had passed since the last time I saw her face and even now, she was still as beautiful as I remembered. Her hair was pulled back into long passion twists that stopped just above the waistline of the distressed denim jeans. The crisp white hightop Chuck Taylors matched the cropped top that she wore and orange Cateye frames decorated her face. She was regal and after all this time, she still took my breath away.

"Long time no see," she finally spoke after a beat, regarding me with the smile that used to make my knees weak. I kept my face neutral, not wanting to give my wayward emotions away.

"Why are you here?"

"I missed you."

"Bullshit."

"I'm serious, Skylar. I never stopped thinking about you, and the fact that your face is on nearly every billboard in LA doesn't exactly make it easy to avoid you."

"You're an actress and I've been avoiding you just fine, Monica." I know that cut deep, but at the moment, I didn't give a fuck. She had no right to be in my shop attempting to profess any type of feelings for me. We had long since stopped our proverbial song and dance.

"So you have no words for me? No questions as to where I went or why I did what I did?"

"Monica, it's been 4 years since the last time we spoke. As always, you got me all excited, talking about marriage, kids, and all that other shit, but then once your parents and family began shunning you for being happy with a woman, you changed. You projected your trauma and pain onto me as though I was the problem. Like I conned my way between your legs and forced you to want a life with me. It's been the same thing between us since college. So forgive me if I don't welcome you with open arms whenever the wind decides to blow you into my life. I'm not some toy that you can pick up and play with, then put back on the shelf when you feel like you don't wanna be gay anymore. Your gay has seasons, mine doesn't. This is me, 24/7 and I'll be damned if I let you pull me into your pit of indecision and self-pity. I wasted 7 years of my life doing that, I'm good."

"I think you should leave." I was so busy fussing that I hadn't even noticed O'Shea walk back in. Monica stood frozen, obviously taken aback by my speech, but it needed to be said. She took a step closer, regarding me carefully as her hands moved to touch my face. I moved my face and looked towards the exit.

"I'll always love you," she whispered softly as she turned to walk out of the shop.

"You good?"

"I'm fine, Shea." I was lying and she knew it, but she just let me go, figuring a needed to be alone. I walked back to my office and called the one person I knew could make me feel better after seeing her.

"Nola Green Flowers, this is Ruben. How can I help you?"

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O'Shea had a way of catching me off guard with her questions. For the last week, I had been actively avoiding both her and Erik, knowing they both wanted to check in with me and my mental state. I mean, I know that they were just looking out for me, but I really hadn't been in the mood to discuss anything. I wanted things to go back to the way they were before she barged into my shop.

"Sky?"

"Huh?"

"You're never this quiet, what's wrong?" The short answer: everything.

"If you don't wanna talk about it, we don't have to."

"Nah, you're fine. I need to. Monica and I met back in 2007. It was my senior year of undergrad and I was in the process of completing all of my exit requirements. She was a cheerleader with the prettiest smile and her skin was immaculate. Like no matter the time of day, she glowed. She was beauty in its rawest form and I was stuck. She was the first girl I had ever looked at and was like 'wow, she's beautiful.'"