Page 32 of Platinum Pressure

Need.

Passion.

“Hey, so, . . . what was that?” The liquor fueled my reactions. I had so much tequila in my system, I feared what the rest of the night would look like if Platinum kept up with this territorial shit.

“What was what?” He dropped his hands to his side and licked his lips.

“Platinum. Seriously. I didn’t intervene when you pulled two bitches into the section, because I respect your boundaries. Why would you intervene when a guy shows interest in me?”

He remained silent.

“Hello? You don’t got shit to say now, but you sure had shit to say to that man.” I crossed my arms over my chest.

“He doesn’t deserve you. The grills were cheap. His clothes were knock-offs, and his cologne smelled like ass. You need a nigga who ain’t faking it in the club for no reason.”

“That’s not for you to decide. You are not my man. You don’t get to control who I speak to and entertain in the club. The fuck?”

“And whose fault is that?” he countered.

I blinked. My mouth opened and closed a couple of times. “What do you mean?”

He chuckled. “Exactly. You know how I feel about you. You know I want to explore what could happen between the two of us, but you’re the one playing games.”

“No. You’ve joked about being with me. You’ve joked about the idea of me. I’m not the one playing games. You are!”

“You thought the shit was a joke when it wasn’t. I was deadass every time I applied pressure. You’ve been playing in my face all day—for months, really. First with my friends, and now with this fake gangsta-ass nigga in the club. You are teasing me and pushing me away, but I’m the one doing too much. Okay.”

He shook his head and walked back over to the two girls who had been enjoying a bottle of tequila by themselves. He poured a shot and tossed it back down his throat.

“Let me see what y’all gon’ do for this shot,” he said to the women.

I watched with my mouth slightly agape as they opened their mouths, pressed their tongues together, and allowed Platinum to pour the tequila into their mouths. My throat burned as the familiar croak of a cry threatened to escape. I looked around the section, and everyone looked happy. I decided I wouldn’t be a party pooper. I quietly walked out of the section and made my way outside as quickly as my feet would take me.

The world moved fast in Downtown Houston at the height of the nightlife. Finding a rideshare app that would take me home at this time of night was damn near impossible. It would cost more than I was willing to pay to get a ride from the club to my condo in Cade’s Cove. I tried to think of alternatives as the cool breeze blew against my face. I stared at my phone, but my hands shook.

“You know how I feel about you.”

“You’re the one playing games.”

Every time I tried to think about a way to get home, Platinum’s words haunted me. My eyes squeezed shut, but the pain had already set root in my chest. I found the Sprinter and leaned against the door. I let the tears fall because I felt attacked. I felt like shit.

Why did I have to be the bad guy when I told him multiple times I couldn’t pursue something physical with him because I could lose my license? Why was I the bad guy because I set a boundary he thought he could step over? Why was I the bad guy because I prioritized my career over short-term pleasure?

You crossed the boundary when you started touching yourself to thoughts of him. You crossed the boundary when you allowed yourself to fantasize about forever with him. You crossed the boundary when you agreed to get drunk in a section with him. Unethical practices.

You.

Crossed.

The.

Line.

My inner thoughts did nothing to remedy my aching heart. I swiped at my face and checked hotels in the area. I’d just check into a hotel and go back to Platinum’s in the morning. I called the first five-star hotel on the map and waited for the prompt I needed to book a room.

I paced the parking lot for a moment, hoping the constant movement and cool breezes would distract me from the throb in my heart.

“What are you doing?”