Blind Expectations

By Jacinta Howard

Aristotle once said the only thing constant in life is change. Or was that Confucius? Whatever. People are fluid—they come into your life for a while, and when it's time for them to float on, Leah has no qualms waving goodbye. The only exception is her neighbor and best friend, Trevor. When all else fails in her crazy world, Trevor is always there, reliable, steady… real. But what happens when friendship blossoms into something more? Can Leah and Trevor's relationship survive the change? Or will the weight of blind expectations cause them to lose the one thing they love—each other?

• Language: English
• Publisher: JACINTA Howard
• Release date: Dec 22, 2016
• ISBN: 9781393752745

Book preview

One

No, no no, no, no!

The smell of burning rubber filled the air, and Leah struggled to control the steering wheel as it jerked and began to spin out of control. Eyes wide, she pumped on the brakes and managed to steer the car onto the right shoulder of the highway. She closed her eyes, breathing rapidly. Her hands were still wrapped around the wheel in a vise-like grip.

Dammit.

She hit the wheel with her palm and slouched in her seat. Not only had she blown her tire, but there was a good chance that her rim might’ve been damaged in the process if the sparks and crunching noise she’d heard, as she maneuvered from the far left lane to the far right, were any indication.

For a few seconds, she sat in the dark, contemplating her options. Atlanta was notorious for its lack of lights, especially in the midst of dense trees—the largest urban forest in America—her exterminator once told her. So it truly was dark on 285. She could change a tire, but it took her a long time even in the daylight. She didn’t trust herself to do it effectively when it was almost pitch dark. And she was scared. Dense trees meant wild animals. She didn’t want to get swallowed up by a coyote.

She blew out a breath and swallowed her pride, grabbing her phone from the passenger side seat.

Hey, she said when he finally answered on the fourth ring.

What?

She rolled her eyes, not in anger as much as disappointment.

I just blew a tire and I’m stuck.

I thought you knew how to change a tire?

I do but it’s pitch black, Jon. And I think I may’ve bent the rim.

He sighed heavily.

Okay. Well…how far’d you get?

I’m still about 20 minutes from home.

That meant that she was only 10 or 15 minutes from his house. He sighed.

Call AAA, okay. They can probably get to you faster than I can anyway. Hang up and call them now and then call me right back once you know they’re coming.

She pulled the phone from her ear, allowing the white light to illuminate the otherwise dark car, and gaped at it. Was he serious?

She hung up, tears stinging at her eyes, but did as he said and called AAA, who said they’d be there in thirty to forty-five minutes. She sat in the car and swiped her tears away, her body hot with anger that had nothing to do with the late spring humidity. He really didn’t care about her. Three months of dating and he was too selfish to even come and get her from off the side of the highway. What kind of a person was he? No. What kind of a person was she to be involved with someone like that? Yeah, they’d just gotten in another petty argument, and she’d stormed out of the house at one in the morning. But still.

She peered outside of the dark car, jumping in her seat when an eighteen wheeler zoomed by her. The interstate that she was stuck on formed a perimeter around the city, and truckers used 285 to bypass going through town, which meant she was stuck in the dark, with a high probability of getting blindsided by a sleep-deprived trucker.

She glanced at the time on her phone. Only two minutes had passed since the last time she looked, and she sighed. She scrolled through her phone, debating for only a split second before tapping her finger against the screen.

Bright Light.

She smiled in the dark when Trevor’s familiar voice greeted her. Immediately she felt a little less scared.

You awake?

I answered didn’t I?

You coulda been sleep.

If I was asleep I wouldn't've answered.

Yes, you would’ve.

He chuckled, his deep baritone making her smile. Trevor was easily one of the best-looking men she’d ever known, but his voice was one of her favorite things about him. It dipped low, and he almost sounded hoarse when he spoke.

You think you got it like that? he asked. Leah knew he was smiling now.

I know I do. You spoil me.

Yeah, well that’s about to stop.

Leah laughed. But…

Stop talking, he interrupted. Listen to this.

Soft pianos stretched through her phone speakers, accented by a snapping drum pattern, and she immediately bobbed her head, unable to contain her smile. It cut off a few seconds later.

Nice. You’re so freakin’ talented, dude, she acknowledged for the zillionth time, watching cars speed past her on the dark highway.

I’m in the zone. If you’re up, come through. I could use you.

Trevor, I’m not really your muse. She rolled her eyes in the air.

How’re you gonna tell me what inspires me? Come through.

I can’t.

Why? Where you at?

She hesitated.

I’m currently on 285.

Okay. I’ll still be up when you get here.

"No, like on 285. Unmoving."

What? The playfulness immediately dropped from his voice.

Yeah, I blew a tire. I’m waiting on AAA to get here.

Where on 285, Leah?

Um, I’m still pretty much in Lithonia.

She heard rustling and Trevor mumbling curses under his breath.

It’s okay, AAA will be he—

I’m on the way.

Trevor you don’t need to—

Leah, you’re on the side of a dark-ass highway at one thirty in the damn morning. I’m coming to get you.

Okay, she said quietly, taken aback by his harsh tone.

Don’t get off the phone with me either, he directed, a little less angrily.

Okay.

She heard his car door slam and his ignition cut on. They slid into easy conversation for the next fifteen minutes, talking mostly about his music. Trevor beat the tow truck there, and Leah knew he must’ve been speeding. When he arrived in sweats and a hoodie, as usual, he just handled everything. If she were a little more feminist, she might’ve been offended at Trevor’s take charge tendencies. He never demanded, rarely raised his voice, or lost his cool. He just got things done. He had expectations, made them known, and for whatever reason, people usually clamored to meet them.

You alright? he asked once he’d opened her car door for her. She nodded as she climbed out, into his arms where he wrapped her in his embrace.

Thank you for coming. I appreciate it.

He just shook his head, frowning as he looked down at her. The tow truck guy arrived a few seconds later, blaring his headlights in their direction.

Go sit in the car and get warm. Let me handle this guy.

And just like that, she was seated in Trevor’s comfortable truck with the heat on, watching him talk to the guy through the window. Barely ten minutes later, Trevor got into the truck, and they were headed back to their lofts in Kirkwood. It was the trendy, artsy neighborhood located just between Little 5 Points and Decatur, which had just recently been gentrified. Although Leah was born and raised in south Atlanta, right in the heart of College Park, she liked the area because it served her purpose: putting her close to the center of town and allowing her to live among some of the city’s creatives.

Trevor was so cool the entire time that she was surprised when he turned and glared at her once they’d been on the road for a few minutes.

Why didn’t you call me? He turned down the music that was playing, one of his groove-heavy instrumentals that reminded her of sunny days on the beach and back rubs.

She stopped bobbing her head to the music and fidgeted in her seat.

I did call you.

She smiled, trying to lighten his mood but his expression didn’t change.

You know what I mean. Why didn’t you call me to come get you when it first happened? If I didn’t ask where you were, you wouldn't've told me anything, huh?

She frowned, shifting in her seat and looking out of the window.

Something happens, whenever, wherever… you call me, Leah.

He shook his head, pushing out an agitated breath as he navigated the car through the light, late night traffic.

And where the hell is Jon?

In his skin, I guess.

This isn’t funny. You were coming from his house, right? We both know ain’t nothing else out in Lithonia.

Leah nodded and sighed, not wanting to expound but knowing she had to.

I called him. She paused. He told me to call AAA.

He stared at her, his forehead creased in anger. "What?"

We had just kinda got into and so…

You mean that punk ass motherfuc-- he stopped and shook his head, glaring at the highway, no doubt controlling his temper. He couldn’t be bothered to drive 10 minutes to come get you? He left you on the side of the road by yourself at one in the morning, Leah? And you were about to try to explain that to me?

He looked like he wanted to punch something.

I know, Trevor.

Do you? He turned and looked at her again, before shaking his head and returning his attention to the highway.

You can’t keep doing this. He said it quietly, almost to himself. "I can’t keep doing this."

She frowned, hurt swelling in her chest.

It’s not like I asked you to drive out here. If you really didn’t want to come get me…

You know that’s not what I’m talkin’ about. He frowned when he looked at her. You can’t keep letting these dudes get over on you, Lee. Giving yourself to people who don’t give a fuck about you. They don’t deserve you.

She looked out of the window, watching the light traffic on the highway whip by because Trevor was still speeding.

You keep surroundin’ yourself with leeches like you enjoy being a victim.

She whipped her head to look at him. Her breath caught in her chest like someone had punched her, and tears immediately sprang to her eyes.

What’d you just say to me?

He bit his lip, his grip still tight on the steering wheel as he whipped around another truck.

So now you think I’m playing the victim?

He lifted the brim of his fitted, so she could better see his eyes.

No. I shouldn’t have said that. That’s not what I meant.

"Then what the hell did you mean?"

"You give yourself, over and over, to these deadbeats who just use you. And I wish you wouldn’t. I wish you could see you don’t have to do that. I know that’s your cycle, and I know it has to do with everything you’ve been through, but you gotta let that go, Leah. This is your life we’re talking about here. Your life. He said the word life almost like he was pleading. It’s time. You gotta look around you and decide what the hell you want it to be and stop letting circumstances decide for you."

Anger was swimming in her chest, and she could barely see straight because he was right. But that didn’t mean she wanted to hear it, especially from him. It felt too much like judgment.

You have all the answers, right? You think you’re better than me? That you can sit there and judge me?

"Judge you?" He gaped at her.

She couldn’t see past her anger to hear him, though.

"You know what? Fuck you, Trevor."

The words slipped out of her mouth— ugly, harsh.

She couldn’t ignore the hurt in his eyes when he turned his head to look at her. They never talked to each other that way. It wasn’t them. She never wanted it to be them and never thought it would be. Anybody else? Maybe. But not Trevor.

I’m not a victim.

I told you that’s not what I meant.

But that’s what you said; so yeah, screw you.

He stared at her for a dangerously long moment, given that he was still driving; his chest heaving slightly before tightening his grip on the wheel and refocusing on the road.

They said nothing else the rest of the way home, and Leah sat in strained silence, struggling not to cry. Silence triggered by pride, she realized, was the loudest kind. She hustled out of the car once they arrived at their lofts, practically running up the steps to her door. Trevor followed silently behind her, his long legs keeping up with her effortlessly. She fiddled with her keys, rushing to get away from him, away from her shame. And he stood there, waiting silently until she got the door open, always the gentleman.

She allowed herself one last glance at him when she stepped her foot inside. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, and his eyes were tired, hurt, and angry. For long seconds, he just stared at her.

Finally, she closed her door without a word.

Two

Trevor, it’s me, Leah; the girl you used to know before you started actively being unavailable every time I try to contact you. Yeah, that Leah. But seriously… what the shit? I said I was sorry. I’m sorry. See? I said it again. You know, you should actually be the one apologizing to me for making me say ‘shit’ since I’m on a cursing and drinking fast for the next two weeks, which you woulda known if you still talked to me. How long are we gonna do this? Call me back. I miss you, okay? Okay. Bye. But for real, though, call me...I miss you."

Trevor chuckled at Leah’s rambling message as he took a swig of his beer. He threw his phone next to him on the couch where he was lounged, doing a bunch of nothing, aside from thinking about her. He leaned his head back on the couch cushions, staring up at the ceiling.

He was ignoring her. She was right. And it was driving him crazy knowing she wanted him for anything, and he was only a few doors down, ready to give her everything but couldn’t. Not until he got things right with them.

Sticking to his guns was hard because he missed her like hell. At least five times a day, he almost aborted his mission. But it was the only way he was going to get her. She didn’t know it, of course, but he did.

He had to ignore Leah, stop being her friend for a while, so that he could rearrange their previous relationship and get her to see him for what he was-- a man who loved her. A man who was down for her, would be there for her, and hold her down… but as a man, not as no damn homeboy. Not anymore. Those days were over.

Their argument had snapped something in him. Yeah, at first he’d been pissed and hurt by her words. It’s not like it was the first time a woman had told him fuck you by a long shot. It wasn’t a response he tried to illicit, but it was kinda an inevitable part of dating. But coming from Leah, that had cut him because it was so out of character for them. He hadn’t meant to push her that hard. He knew her well enough to realize she’d felt painted into a corner, and her defense mechanism was to come out swinging. But he had to push her, to get her to open her eyes so she could see, and more importantly, stop her pattern and grasp what was right in front of her: him.

She’d texted him the very next evening with a simple "I’m sorry" because he knew she couldn’t stand to be at odds with him. Leah didn’t hold on to much-- hard feelings included.

He’d responded in kind. So am I.

Thing is, he wasn’t really even talking about their argument. He was sorry he’d let things get so far with them without letting her know he wanted her, in a real way, all of the time. He knew her well enough to know that some dramatic declaration of love wouldn’t go over with her. She needed to make the decision to see him as more than her boy. She needed to see him as more than the dude who’d come to her rescue, no strings attached. He wanted some strings. He wanted her.

At this point, the only way to get her to see him that way now was to back all the way off. She needed to miss him. So no more random texts throughout the day, no more popping by, no more hanging out and vibing.

He was already almost a month in, and it was wearing on him because Leah was his light, the only person who, without effort, made him smile every day. He smiled now, remembering when she punched him in the arm the first time she asked why he kept calling her Bright Light. It actually had nothing to do with her tendency to wear five colors at once-- all of them loud and vibrant, yellows and lime greens, bright purples and oranges--Leah somehow managed to pull it off though with an air of bohemian sophistication.

Because you remind me of Gizmo, he’d answered her.

Who?

You’ve never seen Gremlins? He was the one who kept saying ‘bright light!’ He was the leader, the little furry homie who started it all.

That’s when she’d turned on the couch and punched him in the arm. That shit hurt too. Her fingers were long and tapered, painter’s hands he figured, which meant her knuckles were bony.

You’re calling me a dang gremlin, Trevor? I know I’m not the caliber of bougie pretty chick that you’re used to dating, but a freaking gremlin?

He’d laughed, rubbing his shoulder, before grabbing her arms to stop her from swinging on him again. He pulled her close, staring in her eyes.

Leah, you’re better than pretty, he said, grinning. You’re beautiful, and you know it. Breathtaking, cool, movie star beautiful who also happens to be insanely adorable. You gotta problem with that, Bright Light?

Her pretty, brown sugar complexion had tinged with red, and she stared at him, her mouth slightly ajar. He’d wanted to kiss her then. But she’d cracked a joke, trying to cover up the moment, and he’d let her because he wasn’t in the position to go there with her.

Leah was his heart. But after almost two years, no longer would she just be his homie.

He wasn’t even sure how his dumbass even let them start off that way. There was never any question that he wanted Leah from the first moment he saw her. Love at first sight was some TV bullshit, but there was definitely a connection there, instantly. And not just physical, though that was there too because Leah was bad. Bright, expressive brown eyes that looked almost copper if the sun hit them the right way, lips that were full and lush with the top one that poked out a little more than the bottom. Her hair was full and rarely pulled back, framing her face in tight spirals some days, round, loose curls the next, or in kinky waves when she didn’t feel like messing with it. It was beautiful, and Trevor knew it’d been with her long before the natural hair movement because Leah had told him so much, forming the words in quotations with her fingers as if she found the terminology amusing. "Black women are the only people that have to have a ‘movement’ to validate the freaking hair that naturally grows out of our heads. We’re the only ones whose natural hair is viewed as some sort of political or social statement. She rolled her eyes again and sighed. America."

Whatever so-called movement she was talking about, he didn’t care; her hair only accented her pretty features. Trevor wondered aloud if she didn’t have some Ethiopian in her blood somewhere down the line, mostly because of her eyes, but she’d only shrugged breezily and told him she didn’t know her father, that he’d passed when she was only eighteen months, and she didn’t remember much about him. She’d said it so nonchalantly, he was pretty sure that it bothered her more than she was letting on. But that was just Leah’s way--she didn’t like to dwell on uncomfortable stuff. She either let it go completely or brushed it away as if it didn’t exist. He found her ability to bounce through life strangely attractive. He just found her attractive.

Leah wasn’t just bad, she was cool and unpretentious. She said what was in her heart, and that was good business, as far as he was concerned. She was rare in a world full of phonies and people who would say anything to make themselves feel or look better. So yeah, they’d clicked instantly after he’d run into her in the hallway that first day and helped her move in the rest of her boxes because she’d only been able to afford the movers —some dudes she picked up on the corner of Buford Highway—for two hours of their time.

She was friendly, almost alarmingly so, given that she was a woman living alone and didn’t know him from a can of paint. She’d ordered pizza, and they’d eaten it on her living room floor, talking with the pizza box between them, sharing it while they drank Coronas like they’d been homies forever. When he’d questioned her about her openness with him, she’d just smiled, showing off her half-dimple, and he’d felt his own smile widen.

I can tell you’re good people by your eyes, Trevor. He ignored how much he enjoyed the way she said his name.

Because they’re brown? he teased her.

"Because they’re honest, smarty pants."

He’d laughed at her because who the hell actually said smarty pants?

And if your eyes are lying, I’ll just shoot you with the .380 I keep in my bag.

Her smile was saccharine, and she burst into full on laughter at his expression.

Bullshit, he said, once he’d composed himself.

She raised her brows and nodded her head toward her worn brown satchel.

In the front pocket.

He dragged the bag close, and she pulled it out for him. He was impressed. And instantly, uncomfortably hard. A woman who knew how to handle herself, even with a cute little baby piece like that, was a turn on. He’d almost made a move on her right then. He could tell she was down. Maybe not for sex, but she was interested in him for sure.

But he’d been with crazy-ass Kayla at the time, and although he didn’t even know Leah like that, he didn’t want to drag her into any mess with him. She seemed too sweet. But mostly, it kinda seemed like she already had enough bullshit in her life. Her eyes had told him that. After that night, they’d gone their separate ways, with him just five doors down from her spot at the top of the landing. And every time he saw her, Kayla would start cuffing him extra hard because she sensed that Leah was competition.

She was right.

His phone rang on the couch next to him, and he hesitated before answering.

What’s up, girl.

Oh, he’s alive! Paris’s teasing voice came through the phone and he chuckled. He hadn’t exactly been ignoring her phone calls, he just hadn’t been all that pressed to get back with her when she called. They’d been kicking it for the past few months, but they hadn’t seen each other in a few weeks.

What’re you up to tonight? she asked, her voice dropping an octave. Paris was bored and horny.

Chillin.

Want some company?

Not tonight. I’m kinda beat. I’m about to lay it down.

You suck, Paris whined. I’m restless. I wanna get out tonight.

Kevin and them said they were heading to Argon’s, Trevor said, running a hand down his face. They had a few mutual friends; that’s actually how they started hanging out. Paris and his boy Kevin’s girlfriend, Rainah, were line sisters.

Yeah, Rainah told me. Maybe I’ll meet them. You sure you don’t wanna come hang? She asked again.

Nah, I’m good but have fun.

Okay, she sighed dramatically, causing him to smile.

Be safe.

After he hung up with Paris, he went into his bedroom to mess around on the keyboard a little bit. He wondered what Leah was doing, if she was at home or out at one of the