I couldn’t take it no more, Prin.
She stopped reading and let it sink in.
She always knew Zay’s life wasn’t easy. He didn’t say much about it, but there were signs: quiet flinches, long silences when she talked about her dad, the way he always looked like he was carrying something heavy, but this felt different. This was deep. She didn’t know how to feel about it yet.
They didn’t message much after that. Just once or twice. But it was enough to shift something. She didn’t see him right away, but the city’s whisper network was alive, especially when it came to people like Zay. Her homegirl’s cousin said he’d seen him sleeping on the bus going down Warren Avenue. Somebody else said he was selling dope with one of his Ether Division boys on the east side.
Turns out he was doing both.
He bounced around and slept on couches and in basements, rotating between his old crew. Ether Division wasn’t done, but they weren’t popping like before either. The momentum had died down, when Zay was locked up and the crew started doing different things. One of them started a hustle moving furniture with his uncle. Another had a warrant out for selling drugs. Nevertheless, their lead producer had plugged them into something major—an indie label booking international shows. Europe. Canada. Japan. It wasn’t a lie. Zay had the MySpace bulletins to prove it.
So they were still together. Just trying to hold on.
When the snow started falling and the buses stopped running, he didn’t want to sleep on a cold floor anymore. Not when he knew where warmth lived.
One night, after a long walk in Timberlands with soaked socks and frozen fingers, he tapped twice on Princess’s bedroom window.
She pulled back the curtain and squinted into the night. She blinked twice until she made out his face. There he stood, mid-knock, hoodie up, and breath that fogged against the cold glass. She slid the lock, pushed the window slowly and stood back as he stepped in.
He looked thinner and tired, but that same softness was still in his eyes when he looked at her as he moved inside. He lookedrelieved. Like, even after all the mess and time apart, she was still home to him.
“What are you doing here?” she whispered. “It’s two in the morning.”
Zay smirked, breath visible through the cold air. “I was in the neighborhood.”
“In the neighborhood? Zay, you don’t even live over here no more.”
“I had a dream you missed me.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Boy, please. What is going on?”
He grinned and stepped aside as she carefully pulled the window down. She turned around to face him. His hands were shoved deep into the pockets of his soaked hoodie. She could see he was almost drenched and tracked snow from his boots onto her carpeted floor. He noticed her looking him up and down with concern and decided to tell her the truth.
“Alright, alright. Truth is, . . . I had nowhere else to go.”
Her puzzled expression faded, replaced by a softness she didn’t even mean to show.
“You’re wet,” she whispered. “Your clothes—how long have you been walking?”
Zay shrugged like it didn’t matter. “Long enough.”
She walked over to her closet, pulled the doors open, and reached up to grab something from the top shelf. He watched her from the window for a moment, staring at her curvy figure as she tried to balance herself on her toes. She was wearing a silky black pajama short set, and he couldn’t keep his eyes off the way they hugged her hips. When she finally found what she was looking for and turned around, he suddenly dropped his eyes to the floor. She caught him staring at her. He wasn’t slick. She just smirked and walked back to him, holding her favorite comforter and a pillow tucked under one arm. She pushed them toward his arms.
“Here. Take these. And take your clothes off.”
He raised a brow but accepted the covers. “Damn, ma. You bold now?”
She rolled her eyes. “Zay. I’m putting them in the washer.”
“Oh.” He chuckled. “So you ain’t tryna get me naked for real?”
“Stop playing,” she whispered and shook her head. “Come in, lay over here. Quiet.”
Zay walked toward the edge of her bed like he’d done so before. He looked around the room he hadn’t been in in months, still smelling like cocoa butter and flowers. He stood still for a second, dripping onto her carpeted floor.
She looked at him.
He looked back at her.
