"You're such an idiot," Rozii says to me in the waiting area of the shop. We'd decided to close early and send the employees home, since it was basically a ghost town.

I suck in a deep breath, and then let it back out. " I know."

"Why did you let him go?"

Huh. Good question.

Why did I let him go?

Because I was scared. Afraid of what I was feeling. Terrified of opening myself up to be hurt.

"I... I wasn't ready for that, yet. I don't want to get hurt, Rozii."

As Rozii is someone who has had her fair share of heartbreaks, I would've expected something like empathy and/or understanding from her.

Instead, she rolls her eyes so far that I fear that they may get stuck pointing into her head.

"Do you love him, Ezinma?"

"Yes." I don't even have to think about it. I know this. 

"Honey, you're gonna get hurt in life. It's inevitable. That's the fucked up truth."

"Gee, that makes me feel a shitload better."

She smiles a broad smile.

"Bae, I'm always happy to help."

***

I've been on Netflix, binge watching everything possible to just get Desta out of my head, even for a little while. I've watched everything, from Modern Family, to American Horror Story.

And I can't forget him.

I don't want a Phil.

I don't want a Tate.

I want Desta.

So I call the one person who I know always gives good advice in shitty situations like these.

My dad.

He answers on the third ring, and I gulp nervously, and almost hang up. 

"E?" What's up?"

I fucked up.

"I need your advice."

"Sure. What's on your mind, hon?"

"What do you do when you're in love, but you're not ready to be in love?"

I hear absolute silence from him. Well, not completely. I can actually hear crickets chirping in the background, which means that he's probably in the living room; my parents keep the louvre windows in the living room open, and consequently, the chirping of crickets outside is audible from inside.

"It's about that Desta boy, isn't it," he says, breaking the silence.

"How did you know?"

"The way he looked when your mother friend zoned him on your behalf; he looked heartbroken."

Wow. I officially  feel like shit.

"Honey... love isn't something you pick and choose. It just happens."

"But I don't want to get hurt."

"Aren't you hurting  right now? I can hear it in your voice."

Holy shit.

That is so true. I'm in so much emotional  pain right now, my chest hurts constantly, especially whenever I inhale deeply.

"Yes. I am." I sound like someone having an epiphany. I am having an epiphany.

"Thanks so much dad. I need to go."

"Okay, baby  girl. I hope things work themselves out."

As soon as I hang up, I dial a number that I now know by heart.

He answers on the last ring.

"Ezinma," he says, sounding like shit, but also as if he wasn't planning on answering the phone at all, but changed his mind at the last second.

"I..." I huff out a deep breath, and try again. "Can you come  over I need to talk to you."

Silence. And then:

"What do you want to talk to me about, Ezinma?"

"The fact that I am deeply and madly in love with you."

***

Sitting in front of me, in my living room, on the couch opposite the one in which I am currently seated, Desta stares at me with wild, stressed eyes.

"Would you like tea?"

"No."

"A drink?"

"No, thank you."

"A spliff?"*

"I don't do ganja."

"Oh. Okay."

"You love me?"

His change in topic leaves me reeling.

"Yes," I say, once I regain my composure. 

"Since when?"

A while, really.

"I lied to you; it was a lie of omission. I never said I didn't love you. I was afraid of being hurt;  I still am."

You know that feeling of vulnerability that you feel after boring your soul to someone?  You can call it bare, naked, exposed, and list out every adjective to describe  that feeling, but it still wouldn't properly explain it.

That's how I'm feeling right now.

"Ezinma," his gravelly voice pulls me back to reality. I see the pain in his eyes, and once again, I feel guilty for hurting him so much, hurting us both so much. "I can't promise that I'll never hurt you... but I can promise that I'll try."

And really, that's all that I can reasonably  ask of him. We all fuck up; it makes up human. Nobody's perfect. You can take your pick at your favourite cliché line on this topic, but they're mostly true.

"I just hope that... that's enough." He bites his lip, and he looks so worried that I'll reject him.

I give him a small smile, and his face lights up in hope.

"Yes. It is. And I'll try, too."