Aurora

 

“I can't do this anymore?”

"Do what?" I asked, stepping out of the shower we just shared.

Marshon stopped in the middle of the bedroom with the towel wrapped around his waist and pointed his accusatory finger between us. "This," he snapped as he searched for a pair of black boxer briefs from the top drawer.

I looked at my boyfriend of three years like he’d lost his mind. What did he imply we couldn't do this? “What are you talking about?” Wrapping the towel firmly around my waist, I sat on the edge of the bed as if I was going to grasp what he was informing me better.

He steadied himself by grabbing on the edge of the dresser and stepping inside the underwear. Straightening his posture, he rolled his eyes. “See, there you go acting like you don’t recognize what’s been going on.”

I held up my hand but realized it was shaking. I lowered it immediately. I didn't want Marshon to know I was nervous despite the shakiness in my voice. I couldn't wrap my head around what was happening. A few minutes ago, everything seemed peachy-king. But now?

Swaying his head, he marched to the closet and carefully pulled out a duffle bag. He started stuffing the few clothes he had inside.

“’Shon, are you freaking serious right now?”

"Very."

I pointed toward the bathroom. "What was that a few minutes ago?" The pitch in my voice elevated.

He looked up and smiled. "I guess a proper goodbye."

Getting upset wasn't the way to go, but I went there. "If you knew the end of tonight, then why go there with me?"

"For old-time sake, I guess." He shrugged.

The audacity said it all on his narrow, strait-laced face. I felt used. I jumped to my feet defensively and moved aggressively toward my phone.

"What are you doing?" I heard from behind me.

"What I always do," I angrily blurted, lifting my phone to my face.

The moment I felt his commanding presence behind me, I knew it before I could react. Marshon snatched the phone and held it captive behind his back. "That's your damn problem!" he hollered.

I instantly faced him menacingly and folded my arms across my chest. "What does that supposed to mean?"

He flicked his wrist. “You're always running to him like he’s your man instead of me.”

Clapping my hands irked him. And I didn't care at the moment because he didn't care about mine. "News flash, you’re not my man,” I said twisting my neck with an attitude. "And if I decide to call my best friend, then so be it. You don't get to tell me what to do anymore. Now give me my phone back."

His expression turned ice cold. He shook his head and removed the phone from behind his back.

Within reach, I seized the phone and went to my shortcut, tapping 'BFF' from my contacts list.

While he blatantly ignored me, Marshon continued packing his belongings.

I turned my back from him as I pulled out a long tee shirt from the drawer, dropping the towel and pulling it over my body.

“What's up?”

“Hey, Mal---” Before I could get another word out, Marshon nabbed the phone from my grip once again. “What the hell?”

He ended the call. “He will always be your problem if you don’t learn to let him go.”

Learn to let him go. He was my best friend! I jerked my neck and arched my brows because I was beside myself. I would argue with anyone about my best friend. To me, Malcolm was never the problem. He was my confidante and supporter. As I thought to tell Marshon about himself, my phone started ringing. We both looked down at the nickname I saved as his name.

He chuckled bitterly. "BFF...huh? Yeah, I wonder why I was never called that."