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starcrossedxwriter · 11 months

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Falling Apart Part 1 (MBJ x Famous Black OC)

Warnings: lots of angst… pregnancy loss (but don't hate me! Part 2 is coming!!)

Charlotte shifted uncomfortably in bed, her hand going to wipe a thin layer of sweat from her forehead. The heat in their bedroom was sweltering, a rare and odd occurrence as she and her husband were a rare couple who liked the thermostat at the same temperature: ice cold. She glanced down, unsurprised to find him fast asleep on top of her, his light snores filling her ears.

She was his favorite spot in bed. It did not matter if he went to bed first and was sound asleep when she slid in, he always found his way to her and slept with half of his body draped over hers and his head on her chest. Even on the rarest occasion they went to bed upset, they still found their way into each other’s arms to sleep. Charlotte usually had no complaints though, he was her personal weighted blanket. She missed their sleeping arrangement when one of them was traveling. His weight provided comfort, his touch soothed her, and his body temperature provided the perfect warmth for sleep.

However, tonight she only felt suffocated, literally. Her body felt disgusting, covered in the tacky uncomfortable feeling of sweat from head to toe despite dozing off in nothing but a pair of Michael’s briefs when she got out of the shower.

She pushed against his heavy upper half, hoping to move him so she could cool down for a minute. However, when he did not budge an inch, all she could do was let out a disgruntled huff. Their return to the set of Creed meant her husband was at the peak of his physical strength. He still enjoyed the residual weight of Erik Killmonger and perfected his training for the sequel. However, that meant he was far too heavy for Charlotte’s weak arms to move.

Despite how uncomfortable she felt, she did not have the heart to wake him either. Neither of the pair had been this tired in a long time. 2018 had been a hectic and wild ride for the Jordans, both of them enjoying historic but exhausting accomplishments. While Charlotte started the year deep into the award season circuit, which was fun in some ways but she found it more emotionally and physically draining than anything else, Michael started it with an intense international press tour. And they both only had a week at home together before they packed up to move to Philly for filming. And though Charlotte’s days on set had not started yet as they worked on the boxing choreography and filmed the training montages first, she found that she still could not get enough rest. She felt as if she slept all night and most of the day in between studying her lines and writing Bianca’s songs while Michael was gone and still was exhausted when he got home. It did not help that she was fighting a mysterious stomach bug for the last week either.

And the only thing Michael cared to do when he came home from set was fall into a deep sleep until his early call time the next morning. And it was only week one. However, she knew this was their last stretch. Their entire relationship and marriage had been one project after the other for both of them. Once they wrapped filming, they both would get a break and they could rest. She couldn’t wait.

As she reached for her phone to turn the temperature down in their temporary apartment, a wave of nausea hit her. Within minutes, she felt the very familiar and unfortunate churn in her stomach.

This time, she decided, he would have to forgive her for waking him up. This was now an emergency. She combined her pushes with loud calls directly into his ear to force him out of his deep sleep.

“Babe! Babe! Get off me! Off, off, off! ” She practically yelled at him, part of her feeling guilty for ripping him from sleep so rudely. But she was in a race to beat her internal ticking time bomb and make it to the bathroom or any trash can before it went off. To his credit, despite the jarring wake up call, he rolled off her immediately.

Charlotte ignored his groggy “W-what’s wrong?” his gruff, sexy, sleepy baritone not having its usual effect as she darted out of their bed, barely making it to the bathroom before her dinner was staring back at her.

She groaned as her stomach forced any and all substances out of her body, her side cramping with the pain of each heave. She was so distracted by the pain of each heave that she did not even notice Michael behind her. He wrapped her robe around her nude body and held a wet towel to her forehead as he rubbed soothing circles on her back.

“G-go b-back to bed, love. You gotta be up in two hours,” she whispered as she leaned her head into her hand, the other going to massage the sharp pain growing in her side. “I’m sorry. I’ll b-be ok.”

“Els. Please.” While he appreciated his wife being concerned about his schedule, the idea that he could ever just roll over and fall back to sleep knowing she was sick ten feet away was preposterous. “What happened? Something you ate?” He grabbed a hair tie from the bathroom counter and pulled her hair back, knowing she would not get to bed anytime soon if she had to spend the rest of the night washing her hair.

“W-we ate the same thing yesterday and you s-seem totally…” Her words were cut off as she was forced to bury her head in the toilet again. However, Michael understood what she was intending to say. And despite his exhaustion, he did feel totally fine.

“This is the third time this week, Els. This and the fatigue… You gotta go to the doctor.”

She leaned on the toilet seat, her body sinking in slightly with defeat. She was trying to avoid the doctor at all costs, her usual MO. But when Michael insisted, she knew better than to fight him on it. He was relentlessly cautious when it came to her health, because to his frustration, Charlotte was not.

“I’m fine, babe.”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “You promised we wouldn’t do this anymore, Els.” He reminded her of the promise they both made to make their health more of a priority.

Charlotte was no stranger to pushing her body to its physical limitations. It was Michael’s biggest pet peeve. He thought he was a workaholic but his wife often made him feel lazy. And like most people overly committed to their work, her health often took a backseat to everything else. And it was not just work, Charlotte would prioritize Michael, both of their families, and her friends over her health, often to her own detriment. It was not that she did not take her health seriously, she did. However, she took the mantra “the show must go on” to heart. Unless she was unconscious or on a stretcher, she would always find a way to put one foot in front of the other and keep moving. Was it a toxic way to think? Maybe. But had it guided her for her entire career and life? Yes. Which meant, try as she might, it was not a switch she could just turn off because her husband did not like it. She performed and worked through countless injuries and illnesses that should have landed her in the hospital or doctor’s office but her mental will to perform outweighed the physical pain. And after one long and scary night in the hospital while they were dating, Michael did not allow concerning changes in her health or behavior to go unchecked for very long anymore.

“Fine. But it’s probably just a stomach bug or something.”

“Then the doctor can give you medicine to help you feel better faster. But I’d rather know it’s just that than watch you suffer like this.”

She was thankful for Michael’s assistance in standing as her legs had fallen asleep beneath her.

“I know, I know. I’ll go to the doctor, promise.”

“Thank you. Wanna get in the shower first? You’re drenched. Can’t get back into bed like this.”

“T-Thanks, babe. I’m sorry, I-I know you have a long day tomorrow.”

Michael chuckled. “Can’t control getting sick, honeybee. Don’t worry about it. Brush your teeth, I’ll start the shower and grab you some medicine. Get some rest and I’ll make an appointment with the studio doctor in the morning.”

A soft smile formed as she watched him leave to find her medicine. She had truly found the most attentive and perfect partner. Most of her friends’ complained about how their husbands were utterly useless when they were sick. But Michael was the exact opposite. His protective nature meant he also took amazing care of her when she wasn’t feeling well. Though he could also be overbearing at times, it was a sign he cared and she loved it.

She showered quickly and slid into one of Michael’s sweatshirts before he helped her get situated back in bed with medicine and a trash can by her side. She drifted back off to sleep within seconds of her head hitting the pillow.

Despite having to get up in two hours, Michael stayed awake and watched to make sure she was comfortable and resting. He could tell that her sleep was not particularly restful in how she shifted in their king bed uncomfortably. Occasionally, he reached over and dapped her forehead with a towel, noticing the beads of sweat reforming.

He hated that he had to leave her all day the next day, knowing his wife was unlikely to actually rest and relax to fully recover. But he knew he did not have much of a choice. He studied her for about half an hour before he drifted off to sleep for a quick nap, his arm wrapped tightly around her waist.

***

Charlotte paced back and forth in their apartment, waiting with bated breath for the sound of Michael opening their door. He finished training just a bit ago and should have been walking in the door at any moment. Every minute she waited felt like a new emotion, a rollercoaster between excitement, anxiety, joy, and more anxiety. She continued pacing, giving herself a pep talk to increase her courage until she heard his key turn the lock.

“Hey baby,” she offered brightly.

He threw his bag down and wrapped an arm around her waist, one hand going to cup her face as he examined her.

“How are you feeling? You didn’t call me after your appointment. What did the doctor say?”

“Yea, sorry about that. I didn’t call because I didn’t think it was news to give over the phone. First and most importantly, I’m fine.” She assured him, his entire body visibly relaxing at her words. “Doc said I’ll be fine to go to set on Monday, no issues.”

Michael could not hide his confusion. He was happy there was nothing serious but that did not explain why she was sick. “Ok, did he figure out what was wrong?”

“Yes. But there’s nothing he can do. Said it should clear up in the next month or so.”

“What?? Nah, give me his number. Ain’t no way you can deal with whatever the hell this is for another month. And if he knows it’ll clear up, why can’t he prescribe some medicine or some shit?” Michael ranted as he walked to his bag to grab his cell phone. “I’m calling your doctor back home, babe. That’s fuckin ridiculous.”

If he had not been so angry, Charlotte would have laughed at his agitated mumblings about a doctor he did not even know. She supposed she should not keep the vague answers going and tell him outright. She knew there was a cuter way to do so but she also knew Michael would not let a vague diagnosis stand for long enough to put together a true surprise. The lack of fanfare surrounding this momentous occasion would have to be forgiven.

“Put the phone down, babe.”

“Nah fuck that. Was the doctor white?? Cause they’ve been comin’ out with more and more articles about doctors ignoring Black women’s pain. I’ll fuckin sue his whole practice. And I’m gonna tell Steven tomorrow. The studio needs to vet these people be-”

“Babe!” She grabbed his arm to stop him from firing off a million texts that could ruin a man’s career. She pulled the phone out of his hand and locked it, throwing it on the counter. “He can’t prescribe me anything or do anything because there’s nothing to do for morning sickness. But it should go away in the next trimester.”

Her big eyes bored into his expectantly, waiting for the words to catch up with him. She teetered on her heels as she waited, Michael mouthing the words quietly back as if he had not heard them correctly.

“Morning sickness… but that’s…” he scratched his head, his eyes growing wide with shock as he glanced down to Charlotte’s stomach.

She offered him a teary-eyed smile, one of her hands resting on her stomach. “Surprise?” She chewed on her lip as she waited for him to say something, literally anything. “Michael or Michaela C. Jordan’ll be here in 8 months or so.”

“Y-You’re pregnant?”

She nodded. “7 weeks.” She let out a yelp and a giggle as Michael grabbed her and swept her off her feet, spinning her around.

“We’re gonna have a baby?? That’s why you’ve been sick?”

“Y-Yea. Of course now it seems obvious. But I only got through half the symptoms before he told me I needed to take a pregnancy test. Given the timing, pretty sure it was the Black Panther premiere or your birthday,” she laughed. She eyed him anxiously, her hands clutching his forearms as she braced herself for an answer. “Y-You’re excited?”

“Of course I’m excited. I’m fuckin’ ecstatic. I-I’m gonna be a dad. I fuckin’ love you so much, baby.” Charlotte giggled as he peppered her face with kisses and his hand went to her stomach.

“You still gonna love me when I’m hormonal a-and fat with swollen feet?” She laughed, wiping away her tears.

“I’ll give you all the foot rubs you want, baby girl. God, I love you so much.”

Her head rested on his chest as he held her. However, after a moment he pulled back and lifted her chin to his eyes.

“H-How do you feel?” He asked, so wrapped up in his own emotions that he did not even know if Charlotte was happy. He assumed she was but he also knew it was different for women, they had to sacrifice so much for almost a year to have a baby. And their lives were just about to slow down, he could not fault her if she was not pleased with the timing.

“I’m excited. Nervous,” she laughed. “But I think it would be weird as hell if I wasn’t. W-we talked about this so much. The timing is a bit earlier than we planned,” she admitted. “But I’ve always wanted to be a mom and I couldn’t have picked a better man to knock me up,” he chuckled. “So yea, I’m really happy.” She covered her mouth and her eyes fell closed as she yawned.

“Why don’t you go lay down while I figure out dinner? Cool with takeout? You gotta rest while you grow the next greatest actor of a generation anyway?”

“You’re already choosing their career for them??” she asked as she headed toward their bedroom.

“Definitely. They’re gonna wanna follow in mom and dad’s footsteps, of course.”

Charlotte threw back the covers and climbed into their bed, laughing at her husband’s antics. She flopped down dramatically on the pillow, the beast of sleep already coming to claim her again.

Michael sat on the bed next to her, his hand going to her belly as soft snores filled his ears. He just held his hand there, mesmerized by his wife and the life they created together.

***

“You know, I woulda gotten pregnant longgggg ago if I knew it would get me these pancakes on a regular,” Charlotte teased as her husband moved around their kitchen and cleaned up from breakfast. The sweet taste of apples and cinnamon filled her mouth as she took another bite, a soft moan escaping her lips. “It’s like a taste orgasm.” She wiggled her hips and shoulders as if to do a dance in her seat that signified her pleasure.

All Michael could do was laugh at her antics. He had made her those pancakes before going to set almost every day that he had a late call time. It was extra effort, but worth it to see the smile on her face and ensure she was eating.

“Anything for you.”

She eyed him for a minute, her manicured hand letting the fork fall to her plate. “You know you don’t have to do this? I love it and they are delicious but you’re gonna spoil me… and I’ll be bigger than our house by the end if you keep this up.”

Bakari shrugged as he picked up his cup of coffee after starting their dishwasher. He slid over to her side of the counter and into a bar stool next to her. His free hand went to her stomach. Though there was no visible bump yet, his hands seemed to gravitate toward her stomach these days.

“I just like to see you eating so if I gotta make pancakes every meal to make sure you eat, that’s aight with me.”

While the pair were happy about the pregnancy, Michael found it difficult to witness the toll it already took on his wife’s body. She could barely keep food down, which did not make her want to eat at all, and despite sleeping every chance she got, she still felt fatigued all the time. Michael was the only person who could coax food into her these days. And right now, his baby’s food of choice were his world famous pancakes. He knew the taxing schedule on set was not helping, though Steven tried his best to ensure Charlie had enough breaks and time to rest. She was not very good at taking them and using them to actually rest though, despite his urges to do so. He hoped that as soon as they wrapped, he could convince her to take it easy.

“I’m good. Just a couple more weeks, baby.” At his raised eyebrow, she nodded to reassure him. “Seriously, I’m fine. I’ve gotten used to it. It’s fucking miserable and they don’t tell you that morning sickness is a fucking lie. It’s all-damn-day sickness. But,” she concluded her mini rant. “The worst’ll be behind us in no time.”

Michael leaned over and whispered to her stomach, “Go easy on mama today, ok? She’s working really hard to keep you healthy.”

He peppered her stomach with kisses, causing Charlotte to giggle. She playfully smacked his arm to get him to stop, her hand lingering against the taunt muscles straining against his shirt. Her nails dragged against the length of his bicep, Michael immediately registering the look of lust in her eyes. He would say he and his wife’s appetite was generally in sync. However, her doctor warned that hers could diminish or skyrocket due to the hormones. Lately, it seemed like only the latter was true. Not that he was complaining.

He shook his head. “Honeybee… We gotta go. You know Steven’ll fine us both if we’re late.”

Charlotte’s lips curled up into a sly smile, deciding that his words were a mere challenge. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him as she sucked on his neck, teasing his most sensitive spot.

“You ain’t playing fair, Els,” he whispered in her ear.

“Like you ever do?” She gently bit his skin before continuing her teasing. “Now, let me finish and I’ll make that fine worth it for both of us.”

This girl…, Michael thought to himself. He knew they both should be heading out the door to work. But when it came to his wife, he lacked all self control.

“How?”

She continued to suck on his ear and gently bit his neck as her hand slid into the waistband of his joggers, his member already straining against his boxers. Her touch immediately pushed the thoughts of a fine out of his mind, immediately picking her up and whisking her away to their bedroom for a late morning quickie before set because he knew she would make it worth it.

***

“And cut!” Steven called out, Michael immediately pulling on her arms to help her sit up off the bed. “That was good, that was good. But Charlie… I need a lot more energy. Feels like it’s dragging a bit. I think we need a couple more takes to sharpen it up a bit and then I’ll cue straight into the intimate part of the scene. We probably only need to do that one once or twice. We’ll take 10 to reset and then we’ll start from you coming into the hotel room straight through the engagement and kiss. Sounds good?”

The couple nodded, Charlotte letting out a groan of frustration at herself as soon as Steven walked away. She was trying her best today, but she was pulling from a well that had run completely dry. She was giving it every ounce of energy she had and she did not feel like there was much else to offer her director and scene partner. And she despised knowing that her all was still not enough.

Michael’s hand cupped her head, avoiding her face to not disturb her makeup, his fingers gently massaging the base of her skull. Her eyes fell closed at the soothing and relaxing touch. “You ok?”

“Yea, yea. Just tired.” Her words were emphasized by a long yawn she could not stifle.

“I can ask him to take a longer break?”

“No, no. I’m good.”

“You wanna eat something? Did you drink water today? Always forgettin’ to drink water,” he mumbled under his breath. He glanced around until his eyes landed on a PA. “Aye, can you grab a bottle of water for her?”

“Right away, sir.”

“I already ate and yes, I drank water today, dad.” She huffed with annoyance. “I’m good, Bakari. I promise. Just tired and a bit uncomfortable. If it makes you feel better, I’ll call the doctor as soon as we finish up this scene.”

“Deal.”

Though he did not press the issue farther, she could feel his eyes on her from that moment forward, following her every movement, examining every action for signs of pain, discomfort, or exhaustion.

She pushed herself off the bed as she saw Steven coming back to the director’s chair, a sign she needed to return to her starting spot in the bathroom. However, she only made it a step before a searing pain rippled through her lower back.

“Oof,” she whispered, sitting back down, her hand gently massaging it irritably as she waited for it to subside.

“Places!” She heard Steven call.

This time, she was able to get up with no pain and make her way to the bathroom and closed the door to start the scene.

“Annddd action!”

However, as soon as she went to open the door, the cue to start their proposal scene, she doubled over, her legs almost giving out as another cramp, this one far worse than the last, hit her. She audibly and instinctually groaned in pain, a sound that immediately caught her husband’s ear.

She did not have to say a word or call for help as she braced herself over the sink, Michael having almost ripped the door off it’s hinges to be at her side in superhuman speed..

“Els??”

“S-something’s wrong,” she whimpered, doubled over in pain, her arm wrapped tightly around her stomach..

“Aye! Call an ambulance!” Michael called out, the entire set jumping into action as he cradled her against his chest.

“F-fuck… fuck, it h-hurts.”

“Ok, Charlotte, baby. You gotta breathe for me. We’re gonna get you to a hospital, aight? It’s gonna be ok.”

She merely let out a sad whimper of acknowledgement, tears springing to her eyes as she knew in her heart what was happening. She did not need a doctor to tell her. She did not even look at Michael, fear that he would be able to see it in her eyes.

His fingers interlaced with hers as they rode to the hospital, he did not let her go until the doctor came in to examine her and ushered him out, an action he did reluctantly.

He paced up and down the visitor’s lounge, occasionally sitting to answer a text from folks on set or their families as they reached out to check on her. His constant refrain, “no news yet,” got harder and harder to type as the time ticked by. He wished he had more to give, and had answers himself. In between staring at the ugly patterns littering the chairs of the waiting room and burning a hole in their carpet from his incessant pacing, he tried to google her symptoms to determine what could be wrong. However, he only got through one result before he could not read any further. He prayed his suspicions and crude google searching were not correct, that this dream they had created, built, and made a reality was not being torn from their hands just as they had started to cling to it. But he knew God’s plan rarely aligned with their own.

“Mr. Jordan?” A nurse came up to him, pulling him out of his thoughts.

He almost jumped out of his seat.

“C-can I see her?”

“Of course, I’ll take you back now.”

He followed after the nurse, his body finding it hard to put one foot in front of the other for the first time. It was as if he was approaching the gallows but no one had told him yet. He just knew it. He hated that, that feeling of dread that followed him down the winding halls of the hospital like a ghost. It felt like deja-vu, this feeling, this scene was all too familiar, a dreaded walk down a sterile hospital hallway to his wife, a walk he had once prayed he would never have to do again. That instance had a happy ending, however, he did not think he would be so lucky this time.

He took a deep breath before pushing open her door, finding her alone staring up at the tiled ceiling. Her bloodshot eyes shifted toward the door at the sound of it opening, the young woman immediately sitting up at the sight of her husband.

Her eyes immediately welled up with tears.

“I-I a-am s-so sorry.”

Michael had certainly experienced heartbreak before in his life. But he was not sure if he had ever felt it shatter quite like this as he heard the brokenness in his wife’s voice. He could see her guilt and shame so clearly, two emotions she did not earn or deserve to carry.

He sniffled, a tear escaping before he wiped it quickly. Despite the pain he felt, he knew hers was tenfold emotionally and physically. He could process his emotions later. Right now he had to be here for her. He wrapped her in a tight hug, her body sagging into his and her fingers clutching him as if releasing him would mean losing the last bit of composure she had. He placed a lingering kiss on the top of her head and held her as she sobbed, the couple grieving the loss of a life and their dream.

When Charlotte finally stopped crying and the doctor returned to give them her prescription and all the after care information they needed, Michael took copious notes. He could tell that Charlotte was not fully there, her despondent and unmoving gaze at the wall across from the doctor gave away the fact that her mind was far from the small room in the ER.

She did not cry or even shed another tear after he entered, her eyes the only sign that she had cried at all. Her face was neutral, wholly unshaken and unmoved by the doctor’s explanation of the next week or two of their lives and the pain she was likely to be in. The only comfort he could offer was a prescription to speed up the process. But he still recommended she take a week to rest. Everytime he asked her if she had any questions, the shake of her head was miniscule and she spoke no words except the apology she uttered when Michael first entered the room.

And that trend continued well into the evening when they returned home and into the next day. She merely existed, moving through the motions like a robot, mechanical and unfeeling. She accepted his help without protest, offered no rebuttal to his suggestion for dinner, which she barely ate, and gave him only clipped one word answers when he asked about her pain levels or offered her medicine. Even his “I love you,” when he got her settled in bed went unanswered, though he knew she heard him, felt her whole body tense and stiffen at the words before she turned away from him to go to sleep without uttering them back. Her icy actions did not improve the next day either, Michael having far too many one-sided conversations as he tried to care for his wife. Her actions were cold, colder than he ever knew them to be. And when all he wanted to do was cling to her and mourn their loss together, it only compounded his pain to feel that rejection and be forced to contend with it alone.

***

“Alright, thanks Mike. Charlie is in hair and make up and then we’ll do two scenes in the apartment before calling it a day.”

Michael did a double take when he heard his wife’s name, figuring that Steven had merely misspoken. He glanced up from his cell phone where he was taking notes.. “Nah, Els is at home till next week.”

Steven glanced down at his call sheet. “Nah, she is here.” Michael nearly ripped the clipboard out of the man’s hands, his eyes scanning it until he found her name with a call time of an hour prior. “She’s been in hair and make up for a bit. She said whatever was wrong cleared up and confirmed her schedule with me last night.”

Michael turned away from Steven and expelled a deep breath of rage. His hands balled into a fist for a moment as he tried to not blow up at his director and lose his job. However, he did not know who he was more upset with, Steven for not checking with him or his wife for pulling this type of shit in the first place.

“Why didn’t you mention that shit to me?”

Steven seemed totally unphased by Michael’s anger. He was a husband, he understood. But work was work and he would not apologize or feel bad for doing his job. “She’s your wife but here she’s a peer, just like anyone else. She said she was good to go. I can’t ignore that just because you disagree. She’s her own person, Mike. If she said she’s good, I gotta respect that.”

As if on cue, Charlotte walked onto the set. She had her script in hand and engaged in a lively conversation with one of the PAs. Her laughter filled the quiet set, Michael not understanding how she could seem so bubbly and energetic when he knew she was still in pain and grieving. Her body was still reeling from the miscarriage. Even if she would not share the details with him, he knew she was still in pain. No one on set knew the real story, the pair lying about what was wrong since no one knew she was pregnant. So Charlotte made sure to put on a show, even if she did not feel like it and even though it was incredibly difficult as she played a new mom in the movie. Even though it was hard to push through the walls of both physical and emotional pain surrounding her, she knew she had to.

“Aye Charlie!” Steven waved her over.

Charlotte sighed and excused herself from the conversation before making her way to Michael and Steven. She knew this was not going to be a good conversation. When Michael left the house this morning, she had been in bed resting. She had purposely asked Steven to make her call time later so she could leave without the watchful eye of her warden.

It had been four days and though Michael and the doctors’ said she should rest for about a week, she just could not sit in the house by herself and wallow in their loss any longer. Besides, being at home felt like it’s own form of torture for the last four days, she and Michael existed like repelling magnets, orbiting around each other but unable to be close.

Charlotte knew it was her fault, she was doing the repelling this time around, not him. But she could not help it. Her guilt and shame ate her alive every moment of the day. That coupled with the physical pain she was in and grief she felt was a dangerous combination. And while Michael was dotting on her and wanted to talk through their feelings, she just could not. Every time she tried to find the words to speak to him, she couldn’t, the shame stealing the words right from her mouth. She could not even truly look him in the eye, terrified of what she would see in his usually compassionate eyes when she did and terrified of what he would say if they talked. He would blame her for not taking care of herself and his child and he would see her as the failure she was. It was a long time coming, she supposed, a fear she had suppressed but lived with since she met Michael. But she feared this was the final nail in her coffin, the disappointment he could not live with. And it would be a completely fair assessment, that was the truth in her mind. However, she just could not bear to hear those words from him, not on top of everything else. It was easier, better, to just avoid him. She needed an escape from all those feelings that plagued her so she decided to return to work. She needed that now more than ever.

“Hey!” She offered brightly, ignoring Michael’s furrowed eyebrows and tense jaw, telltale signs that he was angry. “What’s up?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming to set today? The doc said you need to be in bed for a week, Charlotte.”

“Yea if you need a few more days, that’s totally fine. There’s still a lot to shoot with Mike and Florian that we can work through.”

“No, this is the filming schedule so I’m here. I feel fine.” Her tone was short, hoping to leave no room for debate or conversation. However, she knew her husband was too protective for that. Her words might have been enough for Steven but they certainly weren’t enough for Michael.

Michael shook his head. “You are not fine, Charlotte. You need to go home.”

“No.”

Her tone was not rude but the word settled in Michael’s ear and immediately angered him. They never told each other no without explanation or compromise.

“No?”

“I’m gonna go and check in with the AD while yall work this out.” Steven immediately excused himself, not desiring to be caught in a marital squabble.

Michael gestured for Charlotte to follow him outside, the pair offering polite nods to people they passed as they walked to his trailer, the only spot on set where they could have privacy. His door slammed shut behind him loudly, an audible representation of his anger.

“Fuck you mean, no?”

“No is a complete sentence, Bakari. I’m good. And now I’m gonna go do my job. It’s not a big deal.”

“‘It’s not a big deal??’ You just had a miscarriage, Charlotte!” He noted how her whole body seemed to flinch as he said the word. “Look me in my eye and tell me you aren’t in pain.”

As much as she wanted to, she could not. The bleeding and cramping still had not stopped, even several days later. The doctor had warned her but knowing it could last a week or more did not make it any less torturous. But that did not seem reason enough for her to return to their home. She would rather work through every cramp than lay in her bed alone analyzing what happened and what she could have done differently, and obsessing over whether her husband might leave her.

“Exactly. I’ll call you a car but you need to go home. And if you’re worried, I can tell Steven what happened. He’ll understand why you need the days, especially considering the contents of the movie. You don't gotta do this.”

The thought of telling their director what happened only enraged her more. “Absolutely not! We aren’t telling him or anyone else!”

“Why not??”

“Because he already saw me sick a-and I don’t need the entire set, and because people fucking gossip, the whole world to know my body is fucking failing at its one job!”

She turned away from him, letting out a groan of frustration at letting her thoughts slip out. Michael had a way about him, of demanding honesty and vulnerability even when she fought so hard to keep it to herself. That is why she avoided long conversations with him lately. Something in him always demanded she fall, and she was not prepared to do that and face his rejection. However, she did not notice how his eyes immediately softened as her words settled in the air, the word failure hitting him harder than Florian’s punches.

“Baby, is that what you th-” Michael’s hand went to the small of her back to turn her around but she flinched away from him. She could not hear lies to placate her or make her feel better about what happened. They would not work. She was a failure, she knew it and so did he.

“I said no, Michael,” she cut him off, sliding on a cold exterior to hide the one that wanted to do nothing other than crumble into a thousand pieces. “And I mean it. I’m working until the day’s over. And that’s that.” She knew her words and actions bordered on irrational and he was not in the wrong for fighting him on it. But work, the bustle of set, was the only place she could retreat to where she knew she would not fall apart, where she could feel something other than the harsh sting of failure and shame. So she could not leave. This set was her life raft and she would cling to the flimsy sides of it tightly to avoid drowning in her own sea of despair.

“Charlotte. I ain't askin’,” Michael's voice got low, the tone he only reserved for when her stubbornness reached untenable levels, when he was done debating or arguing. She always acquiesced to his wishes at that point because he pulled out this tactic rarely, only to convey how serious he felt. But her need for self-preservation outweighed her desire to avoid a fight with her husband. So she clung to her stubbornness, an ironclad refusal to yield even an inch. She squared her shoulders and took a step toward him, his body blocking the door.

“And I wasn’t negotiating. Unless you’re gonna have Steven kick me off set or close the set altogether, I am not leaving. And I know you aren’t gonna do either of those things.” She gestured toward the front of the trailer. “Move, Michael.”

The pair stared each other down for a moment, their first true stalemate in their marriage where neither of them would concede. Michael knew he would have to be the one to bend this time, there was no other option. He could pick her up and force her into a car but that was not his way. If she would not leave on her own, he very well would not force her physically or by embarrassing her on set. He knew his wife’s coping mechanisms were unhealthy and that a day on set playing a mom would only amplify their pain but he also knew when her walls were up. She had stacked them higher than could be broken down or through today, it was a waste of both of their energy.

He sucked his teeth and nodded, sliding to the side to let her pass. She marched by him, only stopping when he grabbed her arm, his touch was cautious and gentle, his grip loose enough that she could remove her arm the moment she wanted to. But she lingered, made no attempts to rip her arm from his touch before he could offer a final word in their argument. His finger went to her chin to force her eyes toward his. He could see her trying to look anywhere but at him. But he could see the thinnest mist cast over her eyes as he held her there for a moment.

“I know you better than anyone, Charlotte. And I know you’re hurting. Lying and avoiding that doesn’t do shit for either of us. I love you and I just want to help. You’re gonna have to talk to me eventually.”

She sniffled and forced her eyes to the ceiling to stop tears from falling.

“I just want to work, Michael. I don’t want to talk, I don’t want help, I don’t want to wallow in it. I j-just…” her voice broke as she hastily wiped a fallen tear. “I just want to go do my job. It’s all I have right now and that is what I want to focus on. I just want to go do that. Now please, let me go.”

He immediately dropped her arm, the young woman taking a deep breath before she wiped a stray tear from her face and stepped out of his trailer without a second glance. Michael watched her retreat until the door to his trailer swung closed again.

Tag list: @certifiedlesbianbaddie @bangtanxmegan @reelwriter19 @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @hi888888sworld @msniaimani @destinio1 @lynaye1993 @chaoticevilbakugo @blackerthings

A/N: So we got a one shot of Michael pushing Charlotte away, seemed only fitting that we get a parallel situation with Charlotte pushing him away. Drop a comment and let me know what you thought and if you want to be tagged! Thanks for reading :)

#black writers #michael b jordan #michael b jordan x oc #mbjordanedit #michael b jordan x reader #creed 3 #black panther #adonis creed #michael b jordan fanfic #creed iii

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miyuhpapayuh · 1 year

Text

1. introductions.

New York

1995

Stevie sits up in her bed and peels the covers away, getting up and walk towards her closet, searching for an outfit.

She decided on a black overall dress that stops mid-thigh and flows out, a red bodysuit and chunky black sandals.

She puts her silk cap on and heads into the bathroom. Jumping underneath the hot water, she scrubs clean with her coconut body wash and wraps her cotton towel around herself once she's done.

She rubbed the lotion into her skin and put her deodorant on. She takes her silk cap off and sits it on the sink. She brushed her teeth and washed her face.

She walks back into her room and gets dressed. She grabs her flip phone, places it in her bag and slings it over her shoulder.

She heads downstairs, finding her best friend, Tyler, sitting at the table, eating a blueberry muffin and talking on her phone.

"I mean... my last class is at two, so we can if you want." She rolls my eyes, realizing that she's talking to yet, another boy toy of hers.

"Tyler, we have to go." She says, grabbing a muffin off the glass dish and heads towards the door. She grabs her keys off the hook and looks back at her.

Tyler sighs and rises up from her seat, pulling her bag on her shoulder. She rolls her eyes at her and continues talking to whatever his name is. She grabs her umbrella and shields them from the light rain.

They head out and hop into Stevie's Audi Sedan. She starts the car up and pull out the driveway and head towards the University.

"Alright, heffa." She hangs up and places her phone in her jacket pocket, staring at her friend. "How many classes do you have today?"

"Three. I have calculus, bio and my favorite, creative writing."

"I love your poetry, just as much as I love you, Stevie." She twisted her lips up at her and continued driving.

"I also, have three classes. Except, I have civics and english II and algebra II."

"I hate that you're a year older than me, Ty. We barely even see each other in this bitch." She parks in the designated zone and turns the car off. She pulls her key out of the ignition and they step out of the car.

"This is true. I'm sorry, babe." She sighs and they make their way inside, soon parting ways.

Tyler and Stevie have been inseparable since high school. She was the only girl that wasn't on some phony shit with her. The rest of them bitches were childish as hell.

She walks into her calculus class and sits in the front row, right next to the window. She's always the first person to get here, so she pulls her notebook and pencil out, and slings her bag over the back of her chair.

Soon, people start filing in. The way everybody's dressed catches her eye.

The girls always wear their afro puffs, braid it up or straighten their hair down their back. Their big hoops or diamond studs shine, along with their gold chains. Their clothes either match from head to toe or they wear those color block dresses that she wishes she owned. Baggy jeans, sweatshirts and sneakers are my favorite look on a girl.

The guys always look good, no matter what they wear. Whether it's a sweatsuit and some Jordans, jeans and a collar shirt or even when they dress it up a little, with their blue jean or leather jackets. Their waves be on point and their dreads do too.

She sighs and watches as their teacher, Mr. Evans, walks into the class and sits his folder down on the podium. He's one of the driest teachers ever.

༺═───────────────────────────────────────═༻

Finally done with her classes and up to her neck in assignments, she heads to the cafe to find Tyler.

She bumps into a couple girls on the way there, and of course they glare at her evilly. Rolling her eyes, she continues towards her destination.

She gets through the double doors and a tall figure almost wipes her out.

“Oh shit," his hands grab hers, before she hits the floor. "My bad, lil mama."

She looks up and all she sees is lips. Luscious ones.

Her eyes travel up to his. They're brown like hers. His skin is a rich cocoa. She pulls away from his grasp and regains her footing.

"I-it's fine." She smooths the bottom of her dress out and pulls her bag up on her shoulder. His eyes linger on her face.

"Nah, you 'bout became one with the floor. I should've looked down."

She smacks her lips, laughing a little. "I'm not that short!"

He cracks a smile, showing off a set of pearly whites. She's a sucker for pretty teeth and brown skin, yes ma'am.

"You're pretty small, compared to me." He says, chewing on his bottom lip.

She rolls her eyes, beginning to move around him.

"Hey," his hand latches onto her wrist, "is it cool if I get your number?"

She smirks, reaching inside her bag for a pen and reaching out for his hand. He places his hand in hers, palm facing up.

She writes her number on his wrist, looks up at him and winks.

She places her pen back in her bag and heads over to Tyler.

She sits down across from her and Tyler stares at her with a smile on her face.

"So, who was tall, dark and handsome?" She scoffs and sits her bag on the seat beside her.

"A total stranger. Why?"

"Okay, first of all, don't lie to me. You stood over there entirely too long, for him to still be a stranger to you. Second, you gave him your number."

"How did you—"

"Girl, who am I?"

"Alright, Tyler. Are you ready to go?"

"Hell no! I really wish we didn't have to work in that stupid ass place."

Stevie and Tyler have been working at Joes for about a year and a half now. It has its perks. They both get paid a little extra cause the manager loves them, but every job comes with those trying customers and employees.

She's almost lost her job once, and well, Tyler has had her fair share of strikes against her. Stevie always comes to her defense and saves her.

Sometimes, she feels like she's older than her.

"Get up, girl! We have to be there at three." She stands up and pulls her up, as well. She dragged her through the double doors and back towards the car.

"You're such a mom. Joe isn't gonna fire us, so you can definitely calm down." She unlocks the car and tosses her bag into the backseat.

"Tyler, that man is like a second grandpa to me. I don't ever wanna disappoint him, and you shouldn't either." She slides into her seat and Tyler does the same.

"I don't wanna disappoint the man, either. I just need you to loosen up."

༺═───────────────────────────────────────═༻

Clocking in and putting her apron on, she helps Tyler tie the back of hers and she does the same for her.

Her phone rings in her pocket.

She pulls it out and answers it. "Hello?"

"Hey, it's Rod."

"Rod?" She questions.

"Yeah, the rude muhfucka that bumped into you, earlier today."

She laughs and leans on the counter.

"Ah, I would've never pictured that being your name."

"What name did you picture, love?"

"Hm... maybe Jordan or something." He chuckles.

"That seems fitting, but nah. What's yours, though?”

"It's Stevie."

"Really?"

"Yeah. What? Is that not fitting?"

"I pictured you being an Angie or even a Selena."

She laughs and peeks my head out, looking to see if the coast is still clear.

"Those are cute but, I like my name better."

"Me too. So, what're you up to?"

"I'm actually about to start my shift for the day. What about you?"

"I don't go into work until five, so I'm just relaxing. Where do you work?"

"A coffee shop."

"What's it called?"

"Why, so you can stalk me?" She asks.

He laughs, again.

"Nah, baby. I'm not a stalker."

"And I'm not your baby." The line goes silent, and her patience starts wearing thin.

"I ain't mean it like that."

"It's alright. I have to go, anyway. Can we continue this later?"

"Yeah, definitely. Have a good day at work."

"Thanks, you too." she hang up and places her phone in her locker, heading towards the front.

She'd only been here for two hours and is beyond ready to go home.

The customers have been trying it since she emerged from the back, and if John accidentally brushes up against her one more time.

"Excuse me!" A white woman, a little bit shorter than her, snaps her fingers in her face, even though she's staring right at her.

"Ma'am. There's no reason why your hand should be this close to my face." She says, pushes her tiny wrist back, causing her face to flush red.

She has to purse her lips together to hide her amusement.

"Where's your manager?" She screeches.

She looks behind her and sees the man, himself. He makes eye contact with her and waltzes over.

"You've been requested, dear." She sarcastically spits.

They switch places and she starts going off about her, like the customers usually do.

With the women, it's the usual she's not friendly enough or she can definitely be faster, when she's literally the fastest server in this fucking place.

Of course, the men don't like her because she don't flirt back or smile at them too much.

Men are entitled creatures and that makes her skin crawl.

"Ma'am.... is there a real reason why you're complaining? Stevie is always on her job and if she wasn't, I assure you that she wouldn't be here. If you would like to get served by someone else, we can arrange that. You can also call the 1-800 number at the bottom of your receipt and take it up with corporate, too, if you'd like."

Her pink face goes back to its original color, at the mention of corporate. White people love corporate.

He fixes her coffee, hands her change and receipt and sends her on her way.

He looks back at Stevie with a frown on his face.

"Stevie... you've got to be more careful with our fair crowd."

She instantly catches onto what he means by fair, almost choking on her spit, trying not to laugh again.

"In all honesty, Mr. Joe, fuck them. I don't know why they think that they can just waltz in here and demand anything from me. Do I look like the type of girl to be talked to that way?" He shakes his head, also rubbing his temples.

"Look, between John and these damn customers...." he sighs heavily, "I just want everybody to go away, but I have a business to run. And if John does something else, I'm beating his ass myself."

The sincerity in his eyes makes her heart thud in her chest.

"You know, you're like a grandchild to me. I protect mine, okay? I got you. Take five, if you need it." He pinches my cheek.

She smiles and pinches his back. He grins and turns on his heels, walking back to his office.

She leans on the counter, closest to the wall, watching Tyler take orders and get heckled by customers. She sighs and hops up on it and starts peeling the dark red polish off her nails; a habit of hers, when she gets agitated.

"Tough day?" The sleaze ball himself, comes up beside her and leans on the counter.

She scoots over, folds her hands in her lap and stares straight ahead.

"Aw come on, Stevie Wonder, I ain't come over here to mess with you. I just wanna—"

"Stop calling me that, first of all. Second, don't feed me no bullshit apology about how you just playin with me or whatever else is about to come out of your mouth. Go away." He moves in closer, opening his mouth to retaliate.

"Go away, before I make a scene in front of these customers. I'm not playin' with you." She says through clenched teeth.

He snarls his lip up at her and backs away, heading to the back.

"You want me to gut him like a fish?" Tyler walks over and flashes that menacing grin that makes Stevie's skin crawl.

"Nah, I think Joe's got that covered. I just don't know why that boy likes messing with me!" She rolls her eyes and hops down, walking back to her register.

The clock ahead of her reads seven thirty-two. Their rush usually ends around this time. She takes advantage of the quiet time to tidy up her area and pull her notebook out.

"Simply because boys are gross. They'll cross through however many girls it takes to find one that lets them have their way." Tyler says, wiping the back counter down.

"Well, only you would know that, Ty. I've never even had a boyfriend. And, if they act anything like John, I'll stay single forever."

"You don't have to have a boyfriend to understand that. It's common sense. I'm sure there are good men out there, but I ain't found none. That doesn't mean that you won't, though."

She sighs and thinks back to Rod.

Should she even give him a chance?

"Get out your head, chile. Didn't you talk to that tall, fine boy today?"

"Earlier, yeah. We had a typical conversation."

"Bad typical or just typical?" She grabs a pen and stares at the prompt for her creative writing assignment.

What trials and tribulations have you gone through, so far in your life? What accomplishments have you made? Is there anything you regret at this point in time?

"Just typical. He called me baby girl and I snapped, per usual. I don't like pet names and shit, especially if I told you what my name is. It not baby, boo, ma—none of that bullshit." She puts her pen to the paper and lets the words flow like water.

"Ugh, one day, your walls are gonna crumble around you. What did he say?"

"He apologized and I said we could continue the conversation later. And, no they aren't cause they're gross right?" She mocks. Tyler rolls her eyes and leans her head on Stevie's shoulder, watching her pen move across the paper.

"I'm gonna grab my stuff from the locker, you want me to get yours too?" She looks back at the clock, again. It reads eight twenty-five.

"Yeah, that's fine. Thanks."

She nods and heads toward the back. Stevie continues writing her paper and casually looks towards the door and the few occupants still in the shop.

༺═───────────────────────────────────────═༻

She finally slides into her bed, with her journal and pen in hand.

She always writes a lil sumn sumn before I go to bed.

Men have this sense of authority to them.

Do as I say, and you'll be alright,

Or suffer the consequences.

If you don't smile, you're labeled as bitter.

If you smile too much,

you're labeled as wanting to be seen.

Don't talk back, cause he ain't ask for that.

Even though he asked for it.

with those slick comments he made.

It's wild, how all your buttons are pushed, and you snap,

And suddenly, they're the victim.

You're crazy and you shouldn't act like that,

Cause, men don't like that.

Fuck them and their opinions.

Entitlement and a mans' ego is a very lethal combination.

She clips her pen on the page, closes it and sits it on her nightstand.

"Welp, until tomorrow." She turns her lamp off and turns over, falling into the deepest slumber.

༺═───────────────────────────────────────═༻

The next day

She sighs and stirs around underneath her cover, growing irritated.

It's Saturday, which means that Tyler's parents, along with her own, are coming to see them and take them out for lunch.

Usually, it would be a breeze, but as of late, Stevie's mom has become very anal about her lack of experience in the dating department and is continuously trying to set her up with idiots from her dads' job.

Tyler's parents are very strict, overly proper people.

They try to dictate her life for her. Stevie's surprised that they even let her move in with her, in New York of all places. She was so sure they'd have a joint heart attack.

"Stevie! Are you awake?" She asks, coming into the room.

She places her pillow over her head and slides down in her bed.

She hears footsteps. Then, the pillow is ripped out of her hands. She opens her eyes and stares at Tyler's goofy facial expression.

"I am, now. What do you want?"

"Come on, they'll be at the restaurant at one thirty." She huffs and sits up, looking towards the window.

It's not raining today, but it's still pretty chilly outside.

"Fine. Are you gonna take your shower first?" She nods, tossing the pillow back on the bed.

"Yep. I just came to wake you up." She disappears down the hallway, and Stevie finally stands up and walks over to her closet.

She pulls out her oversized white button down, green fitted slacks and her black ankle boots.

She lays her outfit out and goes into her dresser drawer, pulling her beige bralette and panty set out.

She sits back on the bed and turns the tv on. Pretty Woman is playing again.

Her phone starts ringing.

"Hello."

"Good morning to you, too." It's Rod.

"Good morning. Is there something you needed, dear?" A chuckle sounds on his end. She blinks.

"Well, I was just hittin' you back from last night. If it's too early…” he trails off.

"I was already up, you're good. Wassup?"

"I feel like we might've gotten off on the wrong foot, yesterday. I wanted to apologize for that." She smirks.

"I appreciate that."

"Alright, cool. So, can I ask you a question?"

"You can."

"Would it be okay if I took you out on a date?"

"It might. What did you have in mind?"

"See, I wasn't expecting to get past the asking part." He starts laughing, again. "I'll think of something real nice and let you know."

"See, this is why women will always be the superior gender. We stay quick on our feet. Y'all should take notes."

"Is that so?"

"Rightfully."

"Aight, so you always have date plans lined up and ready to go?"

"Well, maybe not date plans, but yes. I always have something in mind."

"If it was flipped, where'd you take me?" He asks. She starts laughing.

"I'm not giving you any hints! You tried it."

He kisses his teeth.

She hates that noise.

"I guess I gotta think of something grand, then."

"Don't hurt yourself. I'm a woman of simple pleasures."

"Is that right?" He asks.

She hears the smugness all in his voice. It sends a chill through her.

"Damn right." She looks up and sees Tyler pointing to her bare wrist, mouthing the words get your ass up. She rolls her eyes and wave her off.

"...maybe, next weekend?"

"Say that first part, again for me. My friend was distracting me."

"I was thinking, we could go out next weekend. Is that cool or are you busy?"

"Yeah, that sounds good. I'm always free on the weekends."

"Alright, I'll let you go. Have a good day, Stevie."

"You too, Rod." She hung up and stood up from the bed, making her way towards the bathroom.

"Mhm, what a lengthy conversation..." Tyler follows Stevie in, staring at her. She sighs and pulls her T-shirt over her head.

"And, what about it?"

"Ew, who stuck their dick up your asshole?" She laughs and smacks her arm. Stevie gives her a stale face.

"Shut up!"

"What's new, girl??"

"He asked me out on a date, and I said yes." Her eyes widen.

"What? Aw, that's really cute!" Stevie turns the shower on and nods, smiling to herself.

"It kinda is, honestly. I've never been on one so, I don't know what to expect."

"Don't expect anything, but a good time. You'll worry yourself, expecting anything else."

She nods and pulls the rest of her clothes off, dropping them into the hamper and hopping into the shower, this time wetting her hair.

She quickly scrubbed her body clean and hops out, since she only has like fifteen minutes left.

She dries off and lathers her body in lotion and puts her deodorant on. She puts her clothes on and fixes her shirt in the mirror.

She grabs her bag and places her phone and lip gloss inside, heading downstairs where Tyler is waiting.

"Well, don't you look cute!"

She stands up and spins around, showing off her fit. Stevie laughed and grabbed her keys off the table.

"Thank you, chica. You look cute, too. Fix this, though." She tightens the knot in her shirt.

"Alright, you ready?"

"Yeah, where are they?"

"Le Bernardin."

Stevie rolls her eyes.

See, her parents—well, both of their parents are very upscale, panties-in-a-bunch type of people.

"Why don't they take us to a regular restaurant? They have to be extra, every time they come up here?" She laughs and they head out the door.

Twenty minutes later.

"Oh, Stevie! Look at how beautiful you are!" Her mom smothers her face in kisses. Her dad, on the other hand, pulls her into a rough hug and sits down. He's never been one to show a lot of affection, if any at all.

"Ma, you just saw me last month." She wipes her ruby red lipstick off her face with one of the crisp white napkins sitting on the table.

"I know, but you just keep growing up before my eyes!" She coos, making Stevie sigh and take a seat next to Tyler.

"Tyler, you look gorgeous, as always." Her mom compliments and Tyler's mom nods, swiping her hair behind her ear. Tyler untucks it, letting it flow over her shoulder.

"Why won't you keep it the way I had it? It looks better."

"Because I like this way! Stop." Tyler places her moms' hand on the table and looks over at her dad. He sends her a small smile and clears his throat.

"How are you, lin?" She sucks her teeth.

"I would love for you to stop calling me that, and I'm fine."

"I can't call you a name that I gave you. Why don't you like it?"

"Because it's not my name. We have this conversation a lot. You can literally call me anything else." He sighs and picks his menu up.

"Alright, whatever you want, Tyler."

"Honey, I found another guy for you." It was Stevie's turn to roll her eyes.

Here she goes.

"Ma—"

"He's twenty-one, a scholar and such a gentleman. Right, Gene?" He nods and looks at her over his glasses.

"He'd be good for you, sweetheart."

"No thanks, I'm good." Her mom lets out a dramatic sigh.

"No, you aren't, Stevie. How long are you gonna keep this up?"

"Wha- keep what up? Turning down these tightwads at my fathers' law firm? Forever. How many times are y'all gonna keep pressuring me to date? Leave it alone."

"I am your mother. Did you forget that?" She firms, and Stevie feels the headache coming on.

"Of course, not."

"Then, why won't you let me set you up?"

"Cause, I don't need your help. I don't need anybody's help."

"Obviously, you do. You've never been on a date."

She cocks her head back at her mother's statement.

"Have you ever thought about why? Oh, never mind, I'm sure you have a list of your own reasons."

"You're a very beautiful girl, I don't know what your problem is."

"My problem." She looks over at Tyler, who's got her own issues going on, before looking back to her mother.

“My problem is you. It's actually, the both of you. Stop trying to make it seem like dating is more important than anything else. Let me figure this stuff out on my own."

"Now, why would we do that?" They question. She smacks her forehead.

"Did you not just hear me? I'm twenty years old. I've been living without y'all for the last two years and you still find a way to instill these ridiculous things into my head. I'm so tired of it. Let me be an adult without you smothering me."

"That's what you want?" Her father asks.

"That's what I've been telling y'all."

"Fine. We'll stay out your business."

"Thank you."

"And everything else." She raises her eyebrows.

"What?"

"We'll stay out of your life. Since, you're ungrateful for us and we're smothering you, we're done being your parents. Starting right now, we'll stay in California and no longer visit you, pay for your phone bill or anything else. Fend for yourself, since you're such an adult!" He slams his fist on the table and gets up, walking away from them altogether.

"For his information, I've been paying my own phone bill and I buy my own clothes, with my job. Y'all haven't done anything for me, since I graduated, but try and throw me onto some random man that I don't even know. Just because your parents did that to you, doesn't mean you do that to me. I see where it gets you." Stevie defends.

"That is your father, whether you respect his views or not." She cries, while Stevie grabs her purse and stands up.

"Yeah, and I'm your daughter. But I see that means nothing to you." She says before walking out of the restaurant and back to her car. She gets in and locks herself inside.

Knocks sound on the passenger window. She unlocks it and Tyler gets in. She cuts the car on and pulls out of the parking lot.

"Stev, I'm really sorry." Tyler says.

"What are you sorry for? You didn't do anything." She says back.

"Well, cause I didn't know what to say to defend you and I felt bad. I don't want you to think that I don't have your back."

"Nah, I wouldn't ever think that. I understand how awkward that was. It's fine."

"But it's not. I can't believe they went off on you, like that."

"Well, they aren't my parents anymore, so I guess it's not my problem." She shrugs and turns the heat on.

"Stevie,"

"Just drop it, okay? I don't wanna talk about it." She sighs.

"Yeah, it's been a long day."

༺═───────────────────────────────────────═༻

She decided to meet up with Rod a little earlier than their original date.

She just needed to get away from the house and her problems for a few hours. So, he'd picked her up and taken her to McDonald's, per her request.

"You wanna talk about it?" He asks.

She dips her fry into her ketchup and shakes her head.

"It's honestly too much to explain. Plus, this is our first hangout, and I don't wanna scare you off with my problems. I'd rather ease you in."

He laughs. "Alright, I'll take your word. I'm just glad you're good, even if it's just for right now."

"Thank you. How's the paper coming along?"

"I fucking hate that class, first of all."

"Why?"

"Teacher's a total asshole, and she made me rewrite half of my paper. She claimed that I didn't meet my full potential, even though that was the greatest paper I've ever written." She laughs, watching his brown skin turn red in irritation.

"I bet it was. Don't let these bogus ass teachers get to you, though. They think that because they have a PhD, they can say and do whatever." She sips on her soda.

"Yeah, you're right."

"I know." She flips her hair over her shoulder. He chuckles, shaking his head.

He starts talking again, but her eyes are stuck on his lips.

She's not sure if it's because she hasn't kissed anyone since she was in middle school or because they just look so soft.

Maybe both.

"...like that, ya know?"

She snaps out of her trance and looks up at his eyes.

"Ima be honest with you. I didn't hear a word you said." She lets out a nervous laugh and he smirks.

"Distracted?"

"Maybe, a little bit."

He leans in closer, giving her a better look at his fine ass.

"So, Ms. Stevie. Are we still on for next Saturday?"

"We are, dear. I'm so proud of you, for coming up with an idea." He rolls his eyes at her.

"Don't try me, girl." She giggles and pulls her hood on, growing cold.

"I guess we should head out. I'm incredibly exhausted and you look tired as well." As if on cue, he yawns.

"You right. Ten-hour shifts will do that to you."

They stand up from their chairs and throw their trash away.

Stevie tucks her keys into her pocket, and they head towards the door.

"Thanks for hanging out with me, tonight."

"It was my pleasure. I had fun with you." He smiles and holds the door open for her.

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