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SWEETHEART, SWEETHEART, SWEETHEART, the term of endearment, repeated itself in Kylah's head, similar to the way a record repeats when the needle scratches. Sharife's slightly husky tone hugged around the word, and she could still feel the faint touch of his fingertips sweeping across her cheekbone.
If Kylah could change her name, she would change it to Sweetheart. She would tattoo sweetheart across her heart, drive across the entire city of Atlanta, and scream it so everyone would know.
Kylah wanted to be called sweetheart for the rest of her life.
When she closed the door to her home, the sounds of Destiny and Devon still conversing bounced off the taupe walls, causing an echo. As she walked back into the living room, a whimsical sort of smile was etched upon her lips, Devon turned to face her, his arm still wrapped around the back of the couch, "What was that about?"
"He's sick," Kylah said simply as she positioned herself on the cushion adjacent to the boy.
"No, not that. What'd you give him?" Devon questioned.
Kylah raised an eyebrow at his slightly aggressive tone, "Medicine."
"Uh," Destiny brushed her hair back as she rose, "Imma give you lovebirds some privacy. See you at practice," Then the girl was gone, closing the front door with a gentle slam.
"Medicine? Just medicine?" Devon demanded.
"Yes," Kylah shifted away from him, an uncomfortable feeling growing in her abdomen then twisting to the point where she was getting sick, "I can give my friend stuff for when he's sick. There's nothing wrong with that."
Devon leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees and his palms together, "That's the stuff you do for niggas when they're your man. Friends don't look out for friends like that."
Kylah pressed the power button on the remote before picking up the now half-empty popcorn bowl and heading to the kitchen with a scoff, "Dev, you sound... Do you hear yourself right now?"
"I'm just saying, you're probably giving him the wrong idea," Devon remarked as he followed her, placing himself on the other side of the marble island.
Kylah exhaled, mentally shoving down the bits of anger threatening to make their way to the tip of her tongue, before placing the bucket on the counter and flashing Devon a smile, "There is no wrong idea."
"I'm sure there isn't to you." Devon shot back.
Kylah's shoulders slumped a little at his insistence, choosing instead to push the few braids that had fallen in front of her face, "You know... You should probably go too. I wanna hit the gym before it gets too late."
