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TRACK FOUR — ACT LIKE THAT, Smoke Moore (summer writings)

A/N: I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t write some sort of angsty mess and what’s summer for? To act up or to be in your feelings idk. Still love you Smoke!

Synopsis: Some endings don’t come from a lack of love. You loved him. Still do. But one thing about Smoke Moore? He doesn’t build where uncertainty lives. This love was supposed to be different…however love can fracture when the fear gets too loud.

WARNINGS: possible dislikable reader, language, flashbacks, a hint of a intimate moment, heartbreak, & grown folks having a tough conversation.

<- rewind to my previous anthology track here.

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[~ Harlem, New York ~]

Smoke made sure he had a good view of the door in the dark-lit bar. There’s a flicker on the table in front of him, from the faux candles he paid too much for but of course it was all his baby brother’s doing behind his back, and when it was time for inventory, he had choice words for Stack.

Until you intervened.

Interior design and decorating was your specialty.

So you understood quality and bonded with Stack over such. Smoke was always a numbers kind of man who was big on quick maths. He understood making a place look up to par but he was also always thinking about the aftermath.

Smoke felt his elbows dig deeper into the arms of the club chair he’s seated in at just the thought of you.

Who should be here at any moment.

The flicker continued swaying from his peripheral, reminding him to blink, and to relax his stoic solider ways.

Soon the doors that led to the main floor are held open by one of Smoke’s hitmen, bodyguards, allowing you to walk out onto the floor. You give your thanks to the man, shades already folded before you tossed them into your bag, lips glimmering in the cool toned room.

It doesn’t take long for your eyes to find Smoke’s, he sits up even straighter, dipping his chin at you until you start to move, circling around to step down to where he’s at. Smoke gets to his feet as soon as you get close. He gets a hint of your signature scent: warm and airy as you lean over to place your bag on the table top first.

Smoke waits for you to set your eyes fully on him, you offer him a smile, he holds his hands out to you, you place yours in his, he gives them a squeeze and leans forward to brush his lips against your cheek. He takes in your energy and doesnt want to push it, yet, but honestly he wasn’t sure if he wanted to kiss you right now.

He was iritated and what made it worse?

You looked so damn good doing it.

Dressed in a white corset, embroidered jeans, that hugged those same hips he always had a hold on and heels—something you rocked so effortlessly.

“Hi,” you breathe, letting your hands slip from his, leaving him to move and pull out the chair for you to sit.

He grunts in reply at the back of your head, smoothing down his shirt at the torso before he takes a seat across from you. Then he reaches out to grab his waiting drink but halts as he lets his dark brown eyes meet yours.

He questions, “What can I getcha? A mojito?” Still making sure you’re taken care of.

You shake your head lightly, “I’ll just take a sparkling with lime.”

Smoke nods, picks up his phone, and lets his thumbs run wild for a few seconds before placing his phone back down, face-up, then lets his eyes trail all over your face. Like he could ever forget. His drink is left untouched while he waited for you to also receive your own.

“Sooo,” you start as you watch Smoke lean back against his chair, elbows against the arms and fingertips clasped, gold rings left shining on his fingers.

Smoke inhales, his eyes sharp and never leaving yours, breathing a bit rough—exhausted as he wants you to explain, “The floors all yours, start us off.”

You pull your eyes away from him momentarily, letting the silence ring from you; over the soft jazz that’s playing through the speakers. The weight that sits between the two of you is like a third bare chair for decor.

Witnessing it all.

The arm that reaches out from your left, makes you flinch more than Smoke’s unreadable yet steady gaze. The waitress squeaks out an apology, she’s light skinned, eyes wide with innocence, young and definitely wasn’t twenty-one, you wished you were better at remembering names but you recognize her face as she motioned to your drink before placing it down on the coaster left on the table. The dip from Smoke’s head, eyes barely flicking to her’s, sends her back on her way.

Immediately you latch onto the drink, letting your tongue chase the straw before taking a long sip.

The fizz from the sparkling water isn’t enough to loosen the tightness in your throat but you push through.

“I…didn’t ask you to do any of that: the car, paying my rent, building us a whole house. Like, I could do all of that. Have been doing the first two before you walked into my life. I can do it my damn self.”

Smoke felt his brows furrow, the crease in between them was enough for you to tell he’s confused. Confused at you taking this angle, “I know that. You’re my damn equal. I’ve known that since the first time you cut me off mid-sentence with a better idea for the expansion of Stack and me’s business.”

A bitter laugh threatens your lips.

He’s too calm.

And you did have a better idea for what the place should look like, already knowing of the vision the twins had once stack was the one to locate you face to face. Smoke didn’t appreciate you being so bossy, “that’s his thing,” Stack tried and failed to whisper to you once Smoke started handing over attitude to you.

The frown on his face only seemed to get deeper, “So why wouldn’t I?” he goes on. “Why wouldn’t I do all that? Why wouldn’t I build something with you? Or was all this just for decoration—just something to walk out of when it got too real?”

Your eyes close and you exhale.

You can’t answer right away and that bothers the man across from you. The both of you shouldn’t be here, not after everything you built, and not when the both of you put in so much time. Not when Smoke was positive he would never find another love…until he met you.

He needs to get inside your mind, figure this shit out but you’re sure by the end of this?

It wouldn’t take him much time.

Smoke doesn’t yell, he never has but his words hit, “Was it really that easy to leave me?” he says, almost under his breath. “You just gon’ toss all this away like it was nothin’? Like I’m nothin’?”

He wasn’t just dirt on open road, he was the path that led you to home—the house, the creaky yet stable floorboards, the damn light switch! A home you were petrified to put a key on a ring holder to.

You blink hard, “Of course it wasn’t easy. I didn’t want to leave for good.”

Smoke kisses his teeth, “Could’ve fooled me.”

Your eyes go wide as you push yourself onto the edge of the chair, hand going to your chest, “I never plotted to leave you, if that’s what you think.”

His elbows go onto the table, hands still clasped, like he needs something to hold onto that isn’t you, “Then how? Why? This ain’t just because of the material things that I know you can give to yourself. That’s not it, so give me a real reason. Straight up.”

Your gaze drops because you’re reminded of when you first met her. It starts with a voice, her voice, pulling you back to that day at the outlet mall.

“Hey,” her voice called out to you, strong and bold as you attempted to walk out the store unnoticed.

She wasn’t alone, she was with Stack’s on and off again girlfriend, Mary? You’ve only met her a few times at the bar when she liked to show off but it was clear she didn’t like you. Which was fine, she had loyalty to Smoke’s ex. You’ll give her that.

At least out of the friends, Grace and Therese were more welcoming.

Sighing at the bench outside the outlet mall, bags resting on it, you slowly turn to see the beautiful ebony skinned woman approach you. It wasn’t a motion of running up on you, but she had something to say. She didn’t look you up and down, her eyes remaining right on yours to make sure you understood that she wasn’t in your face to start no mess.

However you could see Mary still standing by the door of the store you just left, arms folded, mean-mugging like you’re running from her. It wasn’t like you were running from Annie either, you just bought your things and were waiting for them to be wrapped up when the two friends walked in. You clocked them instantly with Mary dressed in her usual dusty rose and sky denim…then there was Annie who had her arms locked with her’s, dressed in patterned bohemian blues, doe eyes sending Mary a warning look at whatever she just threatened to do.

They hadn’t noticed you until you walked down the center aisle, with your bags, eyes set only on the exit.

Then she was calling your name.

“I’m assuming you already know who I am,” she begins.

You nod along, “Yeah, Smoke’s ex-wife.”

Annie hums, “Right…so I knew one of these days we would cross paths and today’s that day. I just want you to know I’m not gon’ be around for any foolishness. I just want ya to know that we’ll be good as long as you’re good to him. I know it ain’t really my place and this isn’t me keeping tabs or none of that. Elijah’s not an easy man by any means but if you let him, and look past all his clouds, he’ll be the most secure love you’ll ever have.”

And that’s exactly what scares you. What if you couldn’t hold it? What if he completely cracked you open and you couldn’t hold the weight of something so true?

These words you didn’t expect. It’s not like you spent a lot of time talking about exes with Smoke, in his words, “Why I gotta worry about a nigga that don’t have a place here? They ain’t important and are honestly nobodies to me. As long as I’m here, I’m somebody and should be the only one taking up space in your mind and vice versa.”

At Annie’s words you could feel the band of the ring you found, cool against your skin, shining purple—lepidolite? Right in the center.

You can’t help but to ask, “If that’s the case…if you don’t mind me asking, why didn’t you two last?”

Annie gives you a small smile, “Maybe in some other universe we did…but I’ve learned that it’s okay to accept that things change faster than we think. It’s part of this life shit ya know? Just be well to each other. Don’t let the uncertainty ruin the good.”

“I found the ring,” you admit, “The one you thought you hid real good in the compartment in that one hallway.”

Smoke freezes. Then pushes his shoulders back, “…well, shit.”

“And that same damn week,” you add, voice smaller, “I ran into her. Annie.”

Smoke’s jaw tightens and that tremor in his hand starts up again. That part you hate—you’d added to it. Especially now.

“I wasn’t looking for a seat at the table,” you continue, “or answers,” you inform staring at him from underneath your eyelashes to let him know you’re being genuine with him.

Sure, you were curious because who wouldn’t be? Marriage is a huge journey but you wouldn’t pry, leaving room for Smoke to share that part of his life with you—besides the pieces and when he was really ready, “Still got ‘em anyway. Between her symbolic language.”

Now it’s Smoke who has to remember how to breathe. You see it, the slight bob of his Adam’s apple. He’s reminded of his two grievances. Most importantly the woman, who saw life completely different from him, being from a different world, and that same woman he wanted to grow old with was gone.

Just not fully.

Not like their child.

“See I know some about the marriage, about the loss you both shared, and how you disappeared for seven years as a result of that.” You tell, making Smoke rub at his thick facial hair in thought, “Is marriage what you want? If you were really thinking about marrying me…”

You swallow.

“I had to ask myself: what happens when it gets that hard again? Do you disappear on me too?”

So you did it first.

How ironic is that?

You drop the truth between you two and let it sink, like a rock that doesn’t skip against the water and sunrise, plunking straight to the bottom.

“Nah,” he murmurs finally, voice gravel-low. “Because I don’t plan on breakin’ twice.”

You blink at him, unsure if you heard it right.

He puts weight back on this elbows, shoulders still back but he’s peering over at you underneath his lashes now. His Mississippi-drawl is purpose-built and always would be.

“I left Annie because I didn’t know how to stay. Didn’t think she deserved my shit without realizing that she needed me to stay. Needed me to heal with her but I always deal with my ghosts on my own. Then tend to everybody else’s.” He lifts his chin, “I never believed I was built for peace.”

Those words make something in your chest recoil, its a different type of ache as you listen to this man’s rawness.

“I told you how my old man used to beat the brakes off Stack just for speakin’ up. Called it structure. Said we needed it. I swore I’d never be like that. Swore I’d never hurt my people.” He lifts a finger to point at you, “You are my people. At least I thought so.”

He lowers his finger to grab onto his drink again, “I don’t take disrespect lightly, nah. But I don’t run from love either. Not now. I learned not to.”

Your stomach clenches and now you’re left, resting your back against the cushion of the club chair.

He can tell you’ve got something on your chest that you still want to say but don’t know how.

His expression is thoughtful yet still tired.

“That’s why you came home actin’ funny that night?” he realizes, voice calm but cutting through like a blade. “Like you was tryna pick a fight but didn’t even know how to land it? Same way you started this convo off not that long ago.”

Your breathing hitches.

He knows.

He’s figured you out.

“Started snappin’ over little shit, even had the fucken dog running to me when it’s usually the other way around,” he tightens his eyes and slowly nods his head up and down, “Pulled away when I touched you. Still ended up in that bed, though.”

His eyes darken.

Smoke’s always been a ass man. That night, he had you perched right on his lap, skirt bunched up to your ribcage, and panties flung somewhere (landed on the doorknob—funny enough). You tried to arch away from how deep he was, but he grabbed your jaw, pulling you back, letting your back hit his chest. He says into the side of your face, facial hair scraping you so good, “Uh uh, don’t you run from me. You wanna be frustrated? I’ll fix it. I always do. So ride me until we make it right.”

Which is enough to make a moan leap from your pretty mouth but Smoke turns you just enough so he can catch it.

By the end of it, you’re both laying by the foot of the bed, just a blanket tossed over you both since upstairs tended to be warmer than downstairs. Your body is touching the side of Smoke’s ribcage, eyes trained on the bedside table lamp, one he bought back from a trip to Ireland, a landscape that was inspired by a wool painting, he told you, that was now broken on the floor after round two.

Smoke’s focused on his breathing and not the fact that you’re causing all the feeling to go out of his arm that you’re lounging on. His eyes flick to the back of you, loving the slopes and marks of your skin that made you, you, “You wanna tell me what that was really about?”

You croaked out, “No. We’re good.”

Which ended up being the biggest lie you told.

Still Smoke loves you, as is.

And you were used to loving him without all the answers.

Your finger scratches at your hairline as you exasperated, “I don’t know what you want from me, Elijah.”

Now it was Elijah?

Okay. Bet.

“Be real honest with me.” The bearded man tightens his gaze, “You ain’t expect this to be the long game. We made this shit official though so I don’t know whatcha thought was gonna happen? I told you foolin’ around wasn’t for me, been there, done that. That empty love? I don’t play that. I chose you. Ain’t nobody forced my hand. And I won’t force yours.”

You’re shaking your head, “I didn’t leave because I felt like you were forcing me into something. I panicked because that’s a huge step, Elijah. Yes we’ve been through it before: the PTSD, the depression, my OCD, our career’s and finding balance for each other, my disrespectful exes, your retaliation, the both of us having the constant need for control where we’re both fighting each other instead of standing together. I wasn’t sure I could keep you the way you wanted to keep me. Not the way you deserve. I don’t know if I’m your peace.”

“If you think that then maybe we should keep it that way.”

There it is.

That cold shell that shields everything from time to time.

“Elijah,” you reach out for his hand but he pulls back, “I’m not trying to hurt you. I even tried on the ring when I found it but it just didn’t feel right.”

Not now.

“Alright,” Smoke runs his tongue over his teeth in thought, “I just can’t keep buildin’ homes with people who don’t know if they wanna live in ’em.”

He inhales a breath at the sight of water starting to brim at your waterline, then he takes the final swing of the liquor in his glass. He savors it before giving one last look at you.

Smoke Moore never thought opening up his heart again would hurt this bad. Part of him understands this better now, especially with his own experience of fleeing but ultimately things change and time waits for no one.

‘I need you,’ He thought to himself as he took his time getting up and making his way over to you. His fingers always had a gentle undertone to their usual roughness and they felt that same way while he cradled your face.

You wanted to look into his eyes and tell him you’re sorry this was being left like this but your heart was saying something different.

So your eyes closed at his kiss against your forehead. You touched the side of his hands, almost melting into his touch.

He leans over, picking up a napkin and silently hands it to you.

Smoke didn’t want to leave you either, heaven only knows that part.

But sometimes, love gets quiet.

And actions do what words never could.

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》》》》 NEXT.

🌅 Sunset-Favourite summer memory?

🍉Watermalon-favourite/most refreshing summer snack?

🍋Lemon-Active or not active?(Example: swimming or sunbathing?)If so share your plans!

🌊H2O-Beach or pool?

🦞Lobster-Favourite seafood?

🏖️Sandcastle-Dream summer vacation location?

🐚Seashell-Favourite summer souvenir?

🫧Bubbles-Favourite summer activity?

☀️Sunshine-Are you gonna sunbathe?

💿Club-current favorite summer-y(or anything)themed song?

🍹Beverage-favourite summer drink?

🦩Flamingo-Favourite sea animal?

🌻sunflower-Favorite summer accessory?

🥭Mango-Night owl or early bird?

🔱Mermaid-Are you gonna go on a cruise?

🌺Hibiscus-Favourite flower?

🧉Coconut-who are you gonna spend it with?(Family, friends or enjoy by yourself!)

🏕️Camp-Share and story!!

🫐Blueberry-Is the heatwave crazy?OR IS THE HEATWAVE CRAZY😔

🪷Lotus-Show(or describe) your favorite summer outfit(s?)!

🍊tangerine-Self insert question!

Okie that's all 21 questions sorry if they're not good thank you for reading<33