Not ready to retreat yet, Wiz leans back against the counter and crosses his arms along his chest. "C'mon, Kim," he says, reducing her to a nickname. "Don't be so uptight. We're stuck here together, can't you loosen up a bit." He takes a step closer, the scent of his musk filling the space between them.
Kimberly's eyes narrow at the use of 'Kim' and his audacity chews at her. She fixes her posture straight, glaring at him. "I'm not uptight, I'm enforcing the rules," she replies, her voice monotone. "I'm your ex-girlfriend's mother, not your entertainment." The cup clinks on the granite countertop as she sets it down firmly. "And it's Mrs. Thomas to you. Understood?" The kitchen seems to close in as she sets the record straight, her glare unchanging. She wishes she could ignore the way his stare seems to sing a song of mischief, the way his height hangs over her eating at her. But her mind is made up and he will not think for a second he's won. Not in her home. "Now if you will do as your told and excuse me, I've had a long day." She leaves the kitchen, her heels echoing throughout the hallway.
The tension between Kimberly and Wiz thickens as she leaves him to himself. He studies her walk, her chambray blouse clinging to her curves, and can't help but feel a hint of something festering. Was it his own desire? Or is it her power? He knows he is grinding her gears, and a part of him makes merry in the control it gives him. He sighs, turns off the living room TV, and heads to the guest bedroom, his mind devising plans to make his stay more... intriguing.
Days become weeks. Kimberly's routine is careful, designed to maintain structure and order in her life. She's respectful but firm with Wiz, ensuring he walks the straight and narrow. Yet, she can't untangle the feeling of being watched, a sensation that makes her skin crawl. She is well aware of him looking at her frequently, his eyes staying a hair too long in a way that sends her into discomfort.
On a Sunday evening, Kimberly's daughter, Rachel, is visiting for a few hours. Both of their laughter reverberate through the walls, a sharp contrast to the tension that is usually in the air. Wiz's attitude shifts when Rachel, his ex-girlfriend, is in the midst. He seems to be more respectful, more subdued. Yet, Kimberly can't help but pick up on the way his eyes follows Rachel, a mix of longing and frustration that gets on her last nerve.
Rachel's laughter fills the house, a sound that resolves Kimberly with a warmth she endures. Overlooking Rachel and Wiz from the doorway in the kitchen, she watches them interact as they watch a random sitcom on TV. Rachel's eyes light up as she recounts a story from her job, and Wiz nods along in agreement, a smile taking over his lips. But the smile doesn't seem sincere. Kimberly wonders what his motive is, what's he to gain from engaging with his ex-girlfriend. She isn't able to read him that well from a far. Her heels click at the hardwood floor, disrupting their conversation. "Rachel, you mind helping me with dishes?" she says her voice a tad to stern. It's an alibi to get Rachel away from Wiz. Rachel nods and together they find the kitchen, leaving Wiz to himself as Kimberly prefers.
As Rachel chats away about work, Kimberly can't help but keep an eye on Wiz's whereabouts, ensuring he isn't eavesdropping. "How have things been between you two?" she asks, her voice low. Rachel's smile subsides, and she sighs deeply, plunging cutlery into the soapy dish water. "Everything's alright, Mom," she says reserving her words. We're no longer a thing." But there is pain in her eyes that makes Kimberly's heart ache.
"But are you alright with him living here for now?" Rachel's voice concerning, her eyes searching her mother's. Kimberly cracks a smile. "It's okay, honey. He's been behaving thus far." But the doubt in her voice bleeds into the air. Rachel nods, but her concern does not fade as they continue washing the pots and pans.
On the way back to his bedroom, Wiz stops and watches them from the hallway. His eyes tracing Rachel's body. He can't help but feel he lost a beautiful woman, a flicker of something twisted crossing his mind. He turns away and continues down the hallway, the sound of their voices a taunting backdrop.
