Unspoken verses, p.1
Unspoken Verses, page 1
Unspoken Verses
Riley Baxter
B. Love Publications
Copyright © 2024 by Riley Baxter
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
Synopsis
Acknowledgments
Preface
Prologue
1. Elesha
2. Izaiah Darnell Brooks
3. Elesha
Pure Agape Publications
4. Izaiah
5. Elesha
6. Izaiah
7. Elesha
8. Izaiah
9. Elesha
10. Izaiah
11. Elesha
Pure Agape Publications
12. Izaiah
13. Elesha
14. Izaiah
Epilogue
About the Author
Also By Riley Baxter
African American Romance
Interracial Romance
Synopsis
In this tale, words are more than just a means of expression… They are a lifeline, a way to connect, and a path to self-discovery. For Elesha, a gifted spoken word poet, her verses capture raw emotions and truths that resonate deeply with audiences. For Izaiah, her best friend, music is his language, a way to channel his deepest feelings and unspoken desires.
As Elesha’s artistry catches the attention of a publisher, she faces the reality of her dreams coming true. Izaiah stands by her side, offering encouragement and inspiration while wrestling with his growing feelings for her. Their chemistry intensifies both on stage and off.
But the fear of crossing the line from friendship to lovers is scary for them both.
Unspoken Verses is a story of passion, vulnerability, and the courage to take risks. Will Elesha and Izaiah find the courage to speak the unspoken and embrace the love that’s been waiting for them all along?
Acknowledgments
I dedicate this book in loving memory of Antonia Stewart and Anthony Jones. I pray that my life gives you multiple reasons to be proud of me. Keep resting in eternal peace until we meet again.
First, thank God for giving me the gift to create these works. I continue to deliver books for you to consume because He sees fit to provide the content.
To my husband and daughters, I will never cease to dedicate my books to you three. You inspire me to reach for the skies when people prey on my downfall and hope I fail. It’ll always be the four of us over everything and everyone.
Lastly, I want to acknowledge every reader, every friend, every family member, and every author who takes the time to read, share, review, purchase, or download any of the works in my growing catalog. Without your support, I couldn’t continue to do what I do. So, from the bottom of my heart… thank you for your support.
Preface
Note from Riley
Hey!
This is book number 24! Let’s go!
Who loves friends to lovers romance like I do? If so, you’re in for a treat, as Izaiah and Elesha will give you all the feelings that come with this trope. Izaiah has always known that Elesha wasn’t meant to be his friend, but it took her some time to come to that conclusion. I hope you enjoy this adventure as much as I enjoyed penning it.
As always, remember that this is a work of fiction that may or may not resemble real-life situations. If, for any reason, it resembles situations you might know to be real, it is purely coincidental. Also, remember that this body of work is fiction and my version of art. Some things may seem unrealistic, yet they’re all a part of my imagination and not your reality.
P.S.
If you enjoy what you read, leave a five-star review on Amazon and a positive review on Goodreads and TikTok. It would also be great if you could share it with your friends and family who read. If you’re not already, follow me on social media and sign up for my mailing list. The links and handles are located on my About the Author page.
Until the next one…
Happy Reading!
Riley
Prologue
Elesha Mae Fitzgerald
How it all began…
The sun has come.
The mists have gone.
We see in the distance… our long way home.
“If I ever get married, I’m going to recite this poem to my husband because Maya Angelou did the damn thing when she wrote this one. It’s sexy, intimate, and leaves no argument about how I want to feel about my man.” Staring at the screen, my hand dips in the bowl, and I grab another handful of popcorn as Johnny Gill begins singing.
“I don’t know why you got me watching this sappy-ass movie, E. It’s unrealistic, because how many people are gonna let their sister, granddaughter, or niece get her ass kicked without interfering?” Izaiah asks.
Izaiah Brooks is my ace, my confidant, my comfort, my sunshine on a cloudy day, and my best male friend since our freshman year of high school. He is a straight shooter when it comes to telling shit like it is and not slowing down to temper your reaction. Lying on my stomach in his bed while watching Madea’s Family Reunion gives me all the feels, and I’m sure Izaiah is ready to watch anything else.
“You know that movies are generally based on some level of truth, right? I’m sure somebody has lived this story in real time. While their head is knocked around, their family eats bonbons and jujubes.”
“I wish a nigga would fuck with one of the women I love like that. You know what? I need to take your ass to the gun range because you’re gonna need to know how to put a nigga in the dirt if he ever tries you like that.”
My hand hovers at my mouth for a second as I feel my throat closing from his initial statement. Izaiah and I have been friends since maybe the second month of our introduction to high school. Now, we’re three months post-graduation, and nowhere in our four years of friendship has the topic or hint of love come up.
“Why are you sitting there like you’re frozen? Your ass better not drop any of that popcorn on my comforter. I ain’t got time to be itching because ants have found the kernels you left behind.”
Snapping out of my temporary haze, I push the popcorn in my mouth as my jaws move like Theodore’s from Alvin and the Chipmunks, effectively preventing me from responding.
“Since you haven’t answered that question yet, let me add another one to your mind. Have you written your poem for the poetry slam on Friday?”
This is another reason Izaiah and I bonded so quickly. The two of us met during an after-school program geared toward spoken word. Izaiah dabbles in poetry occasionally, but my love for the craft was born immediately. I have been writing and crafting poems since our sophomore year, and Izaiah is one of my biggest supporters. I’m working to obtain his level of confidence in my capabilities.
“Somewhat,” I say, finally.
“What does that mean?”
“I’ve been busy. My plate has been a little full between working and dividing my time between everyone seeking it.”
“Hm.”
Turning to look at his face, my eyes pinch at seeing Izaiah’s brows knitting together, his forehead furrowing, and hooding whiskey eyes. One thing I secretly can’t refute is how handsome Izaiah is. From the color of his eyes that he got from his mother, his straight, unruly eyebrows, his narrow, kissable lips, his athletic, chiseled body, to his dark brown skin… Izaiah is a heartthrob.
“What’s that about?” Gesturing to his reaction, I sit up and stare at him. Lines deepen on his forehead before he opens his mouth again.
“You know damn well the only person thinning out or stressing you about your time is that lame you insist on entertaining. His bitch ass ain’t worth the energy you give to that relationship.”
Here we go with this bullshit.
If there is one area of my life where Izaiah and I don’t see eye to eye, it’s the one regarding my boyfriend, Randy. From the very beginning, Izaiah has never liked him and has never failed to let me know that Randy doesn’t deserve me.
“When are you going to let that hate go? Randy hasn’t done—”
“Nah, what we’re not about to do is go back and forth about a nigga who ain’t worth either of our blood pressures being out of sync for. Returning to my original questions, when are you planning to go to the range? Your ass also needs to stop stalling and get that poem ready because time is ticking, my baby.”
And just like that… Izaiah shuts down the conversation about Randy and moves on like he hasn’t given me a reason to go off on his ass.
Friday night…
“It’s okay. Don’t fret about this shit. You got this. Those of us who truly support you are here, and you don’t have to worry about anything but killing this night,” Alexxis says, rubbing my back.
Alexxis Lawrence is my around-the-way girl and the one who not only keeps me sane but also keeps me balanced. She and I have been friends since middle school before we truly understood the concept of friendship. Alexxis is the ying to my yang when I need someone to turn up with me, to cry with me, or to knuck when I buck. I love her like a sister and appreciate everything she provides to my life. As an only child, Alexxis’s presence in my life gives me a reason to never feel alone.
“I’m trying. Okay. Okay.” My heart races as it beats wildly in my chest while I take slow, deep breaths to get myself together.
I’m fifteen m inutes away from walking onto the stage to recite my poem, and Randy is nowhere in sight. I’m not sure why this time is any different than the others, as he never seems to be available on the days when I need him most. However, he told me he would be here, so knowing he’s failing me again has me all over the place.
“Do you want me to get your mom or Izaiah?” Alexxis asks.
Eleanor Fitzgerald is my rock and reason for moving through life problem-free because she has always held me down. She says I’m her reason for breathing steadily and seeing the good in this world. She has worked hard to provide for me, ensuring we’ve never gone without. Seeing her work two jobs simultaneously gives me the utmost respect and love for how she takes care of me. When the father who contributed to making me made the decision to abandon me after mom’s pregnancy announcement, Eleanor set out to be everything I would ever need. I will never be able to thank or love her enough for everything she’s done for me.
“My mom, please. Izaiah will only want to beat Randy’s ass, and I don’t need that energy right now.”
“Okay. Hold tight.” Squeezing my shoulder, Alexxis hastily leaves to get my mother as I work to regulate my rapid breathing.
Mom is a minister, so I know she will come pray for me so I can do what I need to and get out of here. The power of a praying mother is a treasure I have always valued. It’s also an area of contention in my relationship with Randy because he wants to have sex, and I want to wait until marriage. It’s been a secret battle with him that I have kept to myself because I’m trying to protect his image.
“Hey, little E. What’s wrong? Alexxis said you needed me,” Mom’s voice stops my pacing. I see her eyebrows drawing together as she steps into my space.
Despite not being named after her, Mom insists on calling me little E, no matter how much I tease her about it not being accurate.
“Can you pray for me? My nerves are spiking, and I feel like I’m going to throw up.” Rubbing my hand over my stomach as it churns and bubbles, I fight the desire to crumble at her feet.
Grabbing my hands, she nods before bowing her head as I follow her lead and do the same as I shift my mind to the attitude of prayer.
“Father, I come before you now to give you praise and thanks for my baby. Her spirit is unsettled at this moment, and her nerves are spiking. Give her the assurance that all is well. Let her know that greater is He that is in her than He that is in the world. Let her know that she can do all things through you. We thank you in advance for what you’ve done and will do in her life. For these things, we give you praise. Thank God… Amen.”
“Amen,” I say, rolling my shoulders as the tension building begins to ease, and my chest lightens, allowing me to smile.
“Okay. I know it’s about showtime, so I’m going to take my seat. Knock them off their feet.” Kissing my forehead, she nods and hurries out of the area as my head bobs, staring at her retreating back.
The next day…
“Have you heard from your man yet?” Alexxis asks.
“No. I think he’s still mad that I—”
“Won’t let you sniff the dried blood from your period bloomers. I’m not sure why you waste your time with his ass anyway. You know his ass is only dating you to keep the next nigga from sliding in and proving he isn’t worth a two-minute conversation.”
After Randy didn’t show up for my performance yesterday, I broke down and told Alexxis about him pushing me to have sex with him. The information only made her despise him more because she, like Izaiah, has never liked him for me.
“I’m not sure why sex is so important to him and why he won’t leave it alone. I’m sick of arguing about the same shit.”
“Baby, sex is important to most people. Hell, I can give you many reasons why, but I won’t waste my breath. I respect your stance on keeping your virginity. Some days, I envy you because I let Martico slut me out my first time, and now he avoids me like his nose doesn’t have remnants of the shit from my asshole on it.”
Spitting out my Sprite, I laugh hysterically as Alexxis shrugs as if she didn’t nearly take me out with her statement.
“What? Had I known this was where we would be, I would have only let him eat my booty like groceries. Simple ass nigga,” she says, rolling her eyes.
“Oh, he’s simple now that you gave him the goods, and he acted like you don’t exist. Okay.”
“That’s neither here nor—hold up, is that Randy?”
I damn near break my neck, turning behind me to look at where Alexxis is staring with a glare, and sure enough, my boyfriend is walking past the food court holding hands with none other than the ho of our high school, Marguerite Baker.
“Sure as fuck is, this—come on,” I say, throwing my napkin down on the plate in front of me and standing to head in the direction my boyfriend is heading.
“Slow down, Elesha, damn. I ain’t got time to twist my ankle chasing you,” Alexxis says as the sound of her flip flop clack behind me as I begin my Sofia stroll out of the food court.
“Randy Donald Jackson, I know you ain’t in this gotdamn mall with this bitch!” I scream, causing my boyfriend and his whoever to stop and turn in my direction.
Randy’s face is one of being caught, while Marguerite is wearing a Cheshire grin that I want to slap sideways. However, she isn’t the problem as she’s not dating me like this punk ass nigga is supposed to be.
“Even his damn name is corny as fuck,” Alexxis says from beside me as the pair walk toward me since they have no other alternative than facing the music.
“Hey, babe—” Randy begins before I cut him off.
“I know you’re fucking lying with that lame ass greeting like you’re not standing here holding another bitch’s hand in my face.”
“Calm down, Elesha. This shit ain’t nothing for real,” Randy says.
“Don’t let him tell you it’s nothing when he’s been fucking me for as long as you’ve been telling him no. This trip is to reward me for the last-minute booty call he made the other night when you turned him down yet again,” Marguerite says smugly.
“Didn’t I tell your ass not to trust a nigga named Randy Jackson? Don’t tell me God won’t show up and send a confirmation to drop a nigga like a bad habit. I bet his dick is oozing now after fucking this cum sack,” Alexxis rants.
My eyes peer into Randy’s, searching for a hint of remorse, denial, or something that would clarify his being with this girl. The longer I stare, the more silent the area around us becomes until he opens his mouth five minutes later.
“Look, Elesha, I’m a nineteen-year-old man who needs sex to breathe, and your refusal to give it up has been cramping my style. I love you, and you’re—”
“If you don’t get your Jody, my Jody, wannabe ass out of here with that lame ass line, I’m gonna fuck you up on behalf of my sister.” Alexxis cuts Randy off.
My eyes haven’t been able to look away from Randy’s face due to the swishing of air in my ears and the stalling of my heart rate. Before today, I hadn’t had a single clue that Randy had been getting his rocks off with or entertaining another girl. To learn that he’s been doing both and with someone who makes it her business to discover the dick scent of whoever drops his pants is disheartening.
“Hello! Can you say something so my right now and I can go put a dent in his little paycheck?” Marguerite asks.
My neck heats rapidly, and my hands become clammy as I fight the desire to ball my hands into fists before slamming them into this bitch’s face. If audacity had been a person, Marguerite’s picture would be sitting next to the word in the dictionary.
“Just in case you need to hear it… Whatever the two of us had is dead. I pray you get herpes from her that flare up every damn day to remind you of how much you fumbled with me. Kill yourself, nigga.”
Walking off, I bite my inner cheek until a metallic flavor fills my mouth while I attempt to keep my composure or turn around and beat Randy and his ho down for GP.
“What do you need from me?” Alexxis asks, reminding me of her presence, as somewhere along the escape, my mind had me believing I’m alone.
