“Rayna, you’re not leaving! Give me this!” Azmir demands as he attempts to snatch the suitcase from me. He could’ve taken it clear from me, but if he had, it would’ve been a more of a volatile nature. By him trying to release it from my grip, the cheap luggage bursts open and most of the contents spill onto the marble floor there in the foyer.
I’d lost it. I fell to my knees, wailing out of control. I don’t know what was more upsetting, this emotional tug of war or the fact that it was hard for me to control my emotions around this man. I didn’t understand what it was about him that caused me to become so unraveled in his presence, sexually and emotionally. Why do I cry so much? What was I doing here? Just twenty-four hours ago things were so peaceful. Is this what relationships are really like? I was at such a loss.
“Wait...baby...I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he murmurs apologetically as he wraps me in an embrace. Azmir lowers himself down on the floor with me, trying to provide consolation.
“Azmir, I swear, that was not me! I was not there! I wouldn’t lie to you! I told you and Michelle those girls were not my friends. I would have never asked you to invite them out there. It wasn’t something...I particularly enjoyed. I know this hurts your image as you’re starting to become a public figure. But I swear I knew nothing about that event or tape,” I attempt unintelligibly. My body is shuddering uncontrollably.
“I know. I’ve been an asshole about this whole thing,” he mutters while burying his face in my head. “I'm sorry, baby. I went about this thing all wrong,” his words are spoken softly.
“It wasn’t me! I swear...I wasn’t there!” I once again declare, sobbing into his arms.
“I know it wasn’t you,” he murmurs.
What?
I peer up at him, still unable to control my diaphragm from my crying. “You know?” I ask through tear-filled eyes.
He eventually gives a slight release from his tight grip,. “Yes, I know. I told you I’ve gone about this all wrong,” Azmir pauses in exasperation, trying to find the right words. “I let my manly pride get the best of me. After watching the tape for the second time and really studying it, I noticed the tattoo on ol’ girl’s hand,” he informs while looking me square in the eyes with the most sincerity. “Plus,” he continues, “...the technique she used was not your style at all.”
I jump, tossing my head back to get a clear view of Azmir who is wearing a placid expression. And out of nowhere a belly full of laughter exits my mouth. I belt out the biggest cackle. Azmir eventually contracts the infectious humor himself and lets a mild chuckle escape. I bolt over backwards laughing uncontrollably.
“Seriously, her grip was all off compared to yours. She ain’t deep throat that shit at all,” he jeered in attempt to extend my humorous state. And succeeded.
“Azmir, I didn’t have any technique until you arrived somewhere during that trip,” I squeeze out over laughs.
“Goddamn right. Your only mastered techniques were customized for my stick and mine only.” His lush lips twitch up into a charming smirk as he watch me laugh myself into hysteria.
Somewhere in the midst of my laughter it hit me. “Is that why you came to bed with me last night?”
He shrugs his shoulders. “Part of the reason. The other was because no matter how much of a blow it would have been to my ego, in all honesty, I’m not prepared to walk away from you yet. We were just heating up at that time...not exactly committed like now,” he murmurs, studying my eyes. “I panicked, thinking you ran off. I was so relieved to see you were in the guest bed.”
My body froze at his words. No matter how many times he said it, I could never get used to his genuinely gratifying words. It always amazed me how articulate he was because Azmir embodied so many personas. He’d go from street thug to corporate CEO in a moment’s notice. I sometimes wondered who he really was. Maybe he was his true self with me?