Page 55 of Collateral Love

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I stopped by the car and turned to face her fully.

“You don’t get to scare me like that,” I said, voice low.

“And you don’t get to decide when I move,” she replied just as quietly.

We stood there, tension tight enough to snap.

Then she stepped closer.

Not touching.

Never touching.

“You’re not in love with me,” she said softly.

“That’s not true. I can love both YaYa.” I tried to look in her eyes, but she kept averting my gaze.

“You’re in love with what we build together,” she continued.

“And you’re afraid that wanting more would ruin it.” That landed clean.

She met my gaze.

“I’m afraid if I want more,” she said, “I won’t be able to stop myself.”

Silence swallowed us whole on the walk back to her dorm. When we got to her door, she looked at me.

“Zay,” she said.

“Yeah.”

“If I ever disappear,” she said carefully, “don’t react first.”

I looked at her sharply. “Don’t say shit like that.”

“I’m serious,” she said. “Think. Then move.”

I swallowed.

“I promise,” I said.

She nodded once and went inside.

I stood outside of her door longer than necessary, replaying everything she’d said.

I didn’t fallin love with Kenya all at once.

It wasn’t cinematic.

There was no moment where the world slowed down, or music swelled, or my chest cracked open like a movie scene.

It was quieter than that.

It happened in pieces.

In absence.

In the way, I started planning routes that kept her out of danger before she ever asked.

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