Truth or Dare: Episode 3 – Dare – Share a Space, Not a Bed

PRESLEY

“What a fucking mess.”

I blew into my hands, doing my best to stay warm as I stood outside my brownstone with Junior by my side.

“You good?” I asked, turning to face him, placing my hands on his coat, rubbing his biceps, trying to create some heat to keep him warm.

“I’m good, Ma,” he replied, nodding. “Promise.”

He wasn’t. But it was just like my son not to add to my worry. Little did he know I was freaking the hell out. Where the hell were we going to sleep tonight?

The scene outside my brownstone looked like it was clipped from an episode of Law & Order.

Two firetrucks idled at the curb, hoses coiled, lights flashing under the afternoon sun.

It was brick outside—like we say in New York—and I felt even colder after standing in that water in my home.

Neighbors peeked through their curtains, some bold enough to step out onto their stoops to see what was going on.

I took a deep breath and shook my head. This was not how I wanted to spend my weekend.

I’d called 911 as soon as I could get my phone in my hand. Then I called Malik, but he didn’t need to know that part. I really needed him here for Junior.

And lowkey? I felt like I needed him here for me too.

“So, as we know,” the contractor I hired, Raphael Ortiz, said as he closed the space between us. He’d arrived in the middle of the chaos and had been camped out in his truck while the firefighters got the flooding under control. “I can’t access the property.”

“Yup,” I exhaled.

“But I can assure you, once everything’s sorted out, we can discuss those plans for your closet.”

“Hmph,” I huffed, forcing a small laugh. “Hired you for a closet, but that was honestly just a test project.”

I turned my head toward him.

“I wanted to see how well you did with that so I could give you the brownstone to renovate.” I winked. “Looks like you get the whole thing, my new best friend. Congrats.”

He laughed. “Call me once everything settles.”

I turned fully and held out my hand for him to shake. “Definitely.”

When I faced the street again, my eye caught a glimpse of Malik’s Audi turning onto the block. And honestly? Just seeing his car took a little weight off my shoulders.

He was here. This was good.

He could be here for Junior so I could selfishly freak out and worry about myself.

Because where the hell am I gonna sleep tonight?!

Malik didn’t even park properly, just double-parked beside a car and got out.

“Aye,” he said, his eyes bouncing between me and the firetrucks. “I thought you were exaggerating about how bad this was.”

I closed my eyes and shook my head, the cold nipping at my fingertips. I couldn’t tell if the chill was from being outside or from everything that had happened within the last hour. “Wish I was.”

Malik walked up to Junior and held out a hand for their dap before pulling him in and kissing his forehead. “You good?”

“I’m good, Dad.”

Malik focused on me next, his warm gaze settling my nerves like it always did.

He tapped my coat near my stomach. “How about you?”

“Oh, you know.” I giggled nervously. “Chillin’. Literally.”

He snorted.

“Went from standing in shin-high water to out in this cold.” I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head. “I literally can’t make this shit up.”

“Jesus,” Malik said, turning his attention to the brownstone. “What the hell happened?”

“What didn’t happen?” I mumbled, just as one of the firefighters approached our little huddle.

“Ms. Blake,” he said, nodding before looking at Malik.

“This is my son’s father, Malik Harlan, the person I told you was on his way,” I explained, catching where his attention went. “How’s it looking in there?”

“Well,” he began, gesturing toward the brownstone, “you had a main supply burst between the first and second floors. You’ve got ceiling compromise and a wet wiring risk in your home.”

“What?!” I whispered.

Dammit. I really should’ve listened to my dad. He’s not gonna let me hear the end of this shit. Ugh.

“It’s a good thing you two called 911 when you did and stepped outside, because the amount of water falling between floors could’ve taken down more of the structure than the ceiling in there.”

I pressed my cold hands to my face and groaned.

“We’ve shut off your building’s water at the curb,” the firefighter continued. “Because of your compromised ceiling and wet wiring, you should keep power off on the affected floors. I’d recommend calling your insurer, a licensed plumber, a contractor, and a water-mitigation crew today.”

I nodded. “Yeah, I had a contractor here today for my walk-in. He was supposed to renovate the brownstone anyway. Already told him I’ll need him once I get the go-ahead from you guys.”

“Good,” he replied.

“So to be clear,” Malik said to the firefighter, “they can’t go back in there?”

“To gather things, yes,” the firefighter confirmed. “But otherwise, no. I recommend you, your wife, and your son evacuate—”

“Oh, we’re not together.”

Both Malik and I said that at the same time, our voices amplified because of it. 

Habit. 

We’d been saying that line for nearly two decades. People often assumed we were together because of Junior, so it was like second nature setting the record straight.

Malik and I glanced at each other before I cleared my throat and focused back on the firefighter.

“How long will I need to stay out of the brownstone?”

“At least 48 hours,” he explained. “But that’s just for drying. After that, you’ll need a plumber or contractor to assess the damage and let you know next steps.”

“Oh my God,” I whispered.

“Thank you,” Malik said, shaking the firefighter’s hand.

“No problem,” the firefighter replied. “If you two have any questions, let us know before we head out.”

“Thank you,” I added, offering my hand as well.

When we were alone again—well, alone with an audience of nosy neighbors—I exhaled.

“I told Cori I was ready for a full renovation,” I said to Malik. “The universe said, bet. Normally it’s three to five business days, but for you, Pres? Express delivery.”

Malik slung an arm over Junior’s shoulder, pulling him close.

“Y’all gon’ be aight,” he said with a nod, watching the firefighters begin packing up. “This is just one of those unfortunate circumstances. The good thing is you two are good.”

“As good as we’re gonna be, I guess.” I sighed, shoving my hands deeper into my coat’s pockets. “Well… I’ve wanted a hotel stay for a while. Think I’m gonna get a room in the city near work until I figure things out—”

“Nah.” Malik shook his head. “Junior’s not staying in a hotel. Neither are you.”

I turned toward him, brows pinched.

“You two can stay with me.”

“Oh, no.” I shook my head fast. “Stay in your house? Under the same roof? Breathing the same air?” I snorted. “Honey, we will kill each other by the end of today.”

Malik jerked his head back. “Why do you say that?”

“We’re way too opposite, Malik,” I argued. “Let me remind you how we almost went to war that first week we brought Junior home from the hospital.”

Malik kissed his teeth. “That was damn near twenty years ago, Pres. Come on.”

“Yeah,” I said with a laugh. “And we weren’t even living together. You were just coming by every afternoon, and we still almost lost it on each other.”

Malik smirked. “Almost… and Brandy already sang that almost doesn’t count.”

“I don’t know, Mal.” I shook my head. “I really don’t want to be under your roof, arguing like a couple of teenagers—”

“We won’t,” Malik said over me, laying a hand on my shoulder. He didn’t interject loudly, just calmly, like always. “We are grown now. Plus, it’s for a short while and we’ll barely see each other.”

Malik always took a calm and patient tone with me, even when we disagreed. That week we brought our son home from the hospital—when we clashed on everything from using baby powder or petroleum jelly to laying Junior on his back or his stomach—he never got loud or rude… even when I did.

I think that’s one of the reasons we’ve stayed cool all these years. He never matched my hardheadedness, and maybe that’s why I’ve always had a place in my heart for him.

That… and one other major reason.

“I’m not gonna feel right knowing you two are in a hotel when I’m right here,” he said, using his other hand to pull Junior closer. With his hand still on his son’s shoulder, Malik focused on me. “Junior’s already at home with me since he’s got a room at my house. And you will too. I got plenty of space. I’m barely home since I’m always at the hospital. Today’s the only day off I’ve taken in weeks, and I’ve been fighting it because I’d much rather be at work. We won’t see much of each other. We’ll be fine.”

Malik kept his eyes fixed on mine. Under that warm, steady gaze of his—the one that always made me feel protected, even when I didn’t feel like I deserved that kind of protection—something in me softened. He gave that security willingly, like it came with the package of being connected to him through Junior.

But this look?

The one he had on now?

It carried something else.

A look I’d seen years ago… and thought I’d never get the chance to see again.

I shut my eyes to break contact, swallowing hard. That cold I swore I was feeling had shifted, now blooming hot from my chest and beelining down below my waist.

This is not the time, Pres.

“Fine,” I said with a nod. “Okay. But only for the next few days, or however long it takes for my contractor to tell me the plan. Cool?”

Malik gave a slight nod, eyes still holding mine. “Cool.”

I blew out a breath, watching it appear as white smoke in the cold air.

“Cool.”

***

It was an hour from evening when I returned to my brownstone after sending Junior off with his dad.

I FaceTimed the adjuster, shot photos of everything, and let the mitigation guys stage dehumidifiers. Now it was hurry-up-and-wait.

The mitigation guys showed up with fans, dehumidifiers, and a generator humming like it was trying to take lift-off in my foyer. I hired them through my contractor, Raphael… he knew a guy. After they set up a few units in the living room and foyer, they left, leaving me standing alone in a brownstone that now looked like a construction zone.

There was a massive hole in my ceiling on the main floor. I could literally see my front door through the second floor.

“This shit is about to be so expensive,” I said, making my way into my bedroom.

I was only in the brownstone for an hour at most, gathering some things before heading to Malik’s like advised.

He’d asked for a head start to clear out his guest bedroom for me, and I figured that gave me enough time to grab a few of Junior’s things and mine, enough to last a few days at his father’s.

The damage on the second floor wasn’t too bad, mostly the walls. My contractor told me he’d get a better idea of the severity in a few days. I prayed it wasn’t as bad as it looked… because it looked terrible.

“Positive thinking,” I whispered to myself as I dialed up Cori. “Think positively.”

“Hello?” she answered on the first ring.

“Girl.”

“What?”

I sighed.

I told her everything that happened after I hung up earlier, ending with me in my closet packing clothes again. Only this time, instead of dropping them in the black trash bags scattered across my room, I was packing to stay at Malik’s.

“You manifested too hard,” she joked.

“Ha, ha,” I said, pulling sweaters off their hangers. “Apparently, I am really that bitch. And a witchery witch, ow!”

Cori laughed. “Even in a crisis you are hilarious.”

“Hmph.”

“So, you’re heading to Malik’s now?”

“Yup.” I carried the pile of clothes out to my bedroom. “About to fold a few pieces that’ll get me through a couple days of work and pray my contractor has good news for me when I talk to him in a couple days.”

Cori went quiet for a few beats before saying, “It’s cute Malik offered for you to stay at his house.”

I glanced down at the phone on speaker on my bed. “Mmm-hmm.”

“He didn’t have to.”

“I know,” I said. “But it’s practical. And it’s for Junior.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

I planted my hand on my waist. “What’s that mmm-hmm about?”

“You said mmm-hmm.”

“Yeah, but your mmm-hmm sounded sus.”

She hollered a laugh, and it made me laugh too. I needed that release.

“I’m just saying it’s nice of him,” she said.

“Don’t start, C.”

“What I say?”

I sucked my teeth, leaving the phone on the bed as I walked back into my closet to keep gathering clothes—with plans to head into Junior’s room next. He said he’d picked out school clothes already, but I liked to be extra sure. I was gonna grab an extra pair of jeans, a sweater or two, and a hoodie from his closet. The boy always acted like cotton tees were winter coats.

“Have y’all ever lived together?”

“Cori, your ass knows Malik and I have never lived together.” I smirked. “I know what you’re getting at.”

“What do you mean?”

“Stop fucking with me!” I laughed. “I can hear you holding back a smile through your damn words.”

She snickered.

“Just say what you’re saying,” I said, scooping up my phone and sitting on my bed. “Because I know there’s something you really want to ask.”

“Okay, fine,” she rasped. “Have you two slept with each other since y’all had Junior?”

I gasped. “Ooooh, you nosey ass bitch!”

Cori laughed so hard her voice echoed.

I sucked my teeth again, got up, and resumed folding clothes into my overnight bag.

“Calling me all kinds of names but didn’t answer the damn question, huh?”

I bit my bottom lip, folding in silence for a few breaths.

After too long of a pause, Cori gasped. “Pres!”

“It was nothing.”

She gasped louder. “Presley Blake! You little, oooh! Like, what are you telling me? When did this happen?!”

On a night I would never forget.

“I’m gonna head out,” I said to Malik. He was in bed, under the covers. No shirt on, lying on his back, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

We’d just buried his fiancée ours earlier. His house was finally empty. He’d left everyone downstairs after his parents and mine, Junior, and I followed him home from the repass. He hadn’t said a single word at the funeral. Didn’t shed one tear.

But everything about his face, his body… looked broken.

I pulled back the covers and climbed into bed beside him. I still had on the black dress I wore to the funeral. It was a little stained now.

After everyone left, I cleaned up his place. Nothing looked like Malik. The man was clean, very particular about his space. But when we walked in after the repass and saw dishes in the sink, food stains on his marble counter, toothpaste on the bathroom mirror—I had to do something.

I didn’t know how to help him.

Didn’t know what to say.

The moment I got the news that Karmelle died… that the doctors at the hospital he worked in wouldn’t let him into the OR to try to save her after the crash… I’d been racking my brain, trying to figure out what comfort looked like.

He didn’t want to talk.

And I didn’t want to force him.

So I cleaned.

And the stains on my black dress told that story.

I didn’t care. I didn’t plan to ever wear the dress again. Couldn’t wait to forget the day.

I lay on the pillow beside him, my eyes on his profile. He didn’t even turn his head. Malik just kept staring up at the ceiling.

I shifted my gaze to the armchair by his window.

My heart ached at the sight of Karmelle’s silk robe draped over the arm, untouched.

I released a shaky breath and reached over to press a hand to his shoulder.

“I cleaned up,” I told him.

All he did was nod.

“So now when you go downstairs, everything’ll be nice and shiny the way you like it. Neat freak.”

Still nothing… except a tear sliding down the side of his face.

That hit me hard.

My chest squeezed, and I tightened my hand on his shoulder. He finally turned his head, revealing red, wet eyes.

“Aw, Malik,” I whispered, my bottom lip quivering.

He closed his eyes and more tears fell as he swallowed hard.

It hurt to see him like that. Hurt in a place that made it hard to breathe, hard to think about anything except fixing it.

I always had to fix things. Fix the problem so I didn’t feel crushed by it.

“Do you want me to fix how you’re feeling?”

His eyes opened and locked on mine again—unwavering.

I didn’t look away either. I noticed the slight dilation of his pupils in the dim room, the heavier rise and fall of his chest.

“‘Cause…” I moved my hand off his shoulder and onto his chest. “I can fix it… if you want me to.”

“I beg your entire pardon?” Cori asked.

“We had sex the night after Karmelle’s funeral.”

“What?!” Cori shouted, her voice echoing again.

“It was nothing,” I repeated.

But that was a lie.

Not only was it not nothing… it changed things. In ways that altered Malik and my relationship.

The sex wasn’t just sex. It was… something else. Something I had never experienced with him or any other man in my life… before or after.

It was slow. Riveting. Deep. Full of emotions I still can’t make sense of.

“You’ve never told me that.”

“Because it was… nothing.”

The way he looked into my eyes as he slid into me, unhurried.

He didn’t bother undressing me. Just hiked my dress up, pushed my panties to the side, and rocked me—slow and deep—in a way that was irrevocably enthralling.

I have never made sense of how it happened, and Cori was not helping.

“It was a one-time thing,” I insisted. “He was grieving and I was doing the ‘I can help’ thing.”

I squeezed my eyes closed as my body recalled that night on its own.

“The next morning, I got out of bed, made breakfast, he ate, we never talked about it then… or even now.”

Silence filled the line.

“He was better the next morning,” I said with a nod to myself. “Not fully himself, but lighter. It was like a quiet gratitude and distance we could both appreciate.”

“I mean…” Cori breathed hard into the phone. “Do you think about it at all? You keep saying it was nothing, but I’ve known you forever. I know what ‘nothing’ sounds like when you say it. And you don’t sound like that was nothing.”

I wanted to deny it. Fixed my lips and everything. But all I could do was squeeze my eyes shut and drop into a seat on my bed as the memory rushed through me again.

“I felt terrible about it the next day, Cori,” I said instead, “when I offered… myself. I wasn’t thinking. And just…” I sighed. “The orgasms were insane.”

“What?” Cori whispered this time.

“The first one took me by surprise, because I didn’t expect to be that into it. It was supposed to be about him. Making him feel better, you know?”

“Mmm-hmm…?”

“I was consoling him, but then it hit, and then another hit… and then another,” I confessed, dropping my head into my hands. “I can’t believe I’m talking about this. I’ve never talked about it, not even to myself.”

I shook my head, running my hand over my hair, pulled back in a low puffy ponytail.

“I felt awful after,” I said. “I loved Karmelle. I loved her and Malik together. A lot. Maybe too much. He and I never did a relationship, never even tried. So I didn’t know him as a boyfriend, or what he was like as one. But seeing him with Karmelle… first as her boyfriend, then her fiancé…” I scratched my forehead. “It changed things. It made me really admire him. And maybe sometimes, when I’d go pick Junior up and see the three of them together, I’d find myself living vicariously through her. Not in an envious way, but in a… wow, wouldn’t that have been nice… kind of way.”

There was silence before I pulled my lips into my mouth and rubbed them.

“I’m fucked up, ain’t I? Sleeping with him when his fiancée wasn’t even cold in her grave yet.” I groaned, shaking my head. “I’m so fucked up.”

“No,” Cori replied quickly. “You are not. You and Malik have a special relationship, and that night just made it a little more special… a special your ass never told me about!”

I laughed, needing that humor right then.

Because what the hell did my heart just do when I remembered all that?

I’d pushed that night so far back in my mind that it barely felt real anymore.

But that would explain why every time Malik looked me dead in my eyes, there was a familiarity I could never place. A familiarity that made me feel secure. Warm.

Loved.

“I don’t know, though,” Cori said, breaking through my thoughts. “You moving in with Malik could reopen doors you might not be ready to walk through.”

I shook my head. “I’m not moving in with Malik. I’m just staying for a few days, remember?”

“Hmmm…”

“We’ll be fine.” I got back on my feet, packing the rest of my things and shoving any questioning thoughts to the back of my mind. “We’ll survive a few days. I’m sure of it.”

“Okay…” Cori said, her lack of confidence loud as hell.

And I couldn’t blame her—because I wasn’t sure myself whether what I’d said was the truth.

I glanced out of my bedroom door, eyes landing on the hole in my floor that now gave a sunroof view of the foyer downstairs. I wondered which was more dangerous right now…

Staying here amid broken walls and broken floors…

Or stepping back into Malik’s world, where nothing was as solid as I kept pretending it was.

Either way… something was about to give.

Because why did my heart just do that recalling that night we shared…

And does his heart do the same thing?

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A New Episode Of Truth or Dare Will Be Posted And Sent On Monday, December 1st!