| |
As soon as Jamila walked through the doors of her home, she took a breath and walked to the kitchen to get a cold glass of water. It seemed to help the hot flashes that she’d experienced thanks to one handsome painter. She shook her head. This wasn’t supposed to happen, so how did it?
After another long sip of water, she dialed Nia.
The phone rang once before she heard Nia say, “I want you to tell me everything. How was it?”
“What were you doing? Waiting by the phone for me to call?”
“Something like that, now how was it?”
Jamila sighed as she prepared her thoughts. She responded, “It was meh.”
“Aw,” Nia responded disheartened. “For real?”
“Girl, no, I’m just playing. It was amazing!”
“What!”
“Yes, it was good.”
“Yes!” Nia screamed. “I knew you’d like him. Okay, I want details.”
“So, he set up a table in his studio with roses and candles, hired a personal chef to cook dinner for us and it was better than I could’ve ever imagined. I was trying so hard not to like him that I ended up liking him. Oh, and we kissed. Twice.”
Nia screamed so loud, Jamila had to pull the phone away from her ear.
“Y’all kissed!”
“Yes, and it was off the charts. I’m still reeling after that.”
Nia squealed in excitement. “Oh, this gives me so much hope. I knew y’all would make the perfect couple.”
“Whoa, slow your roll, Nia. It was one date, and I don’t think I’m going to see him again,” Jamila said as she walked into the bathroom and saw the pink paint on the tip of her nose. She smiled remembering how Morgan had chased her. Her stomach fluttered recalling how he had kissed her.
“Wait, why would you not see him again?”
“Because, girl...he’s...I don’t know,” she said turning on the faucet, dampening a face towel then attempting to get the paint off of her face. “I can’t be in a relationship. You know my history.”
“Yeah, and I also know that it’s time for you to move on. Have a life. Be happy for a change, Mila.”
“I am happy. Do you not think I’m happy because I’m single?”
“No. I wouldn’t dare. I know you’re happy. It’s just time to be happy with someone in your life who adds value and excitement.”
“Is that what Caspian adds to your life? Value and excitement?”
“Yes, and so much more. It’s like having your person with you all the time and knowing you’re the only one who gets to have him. You need a person like that, and I think Morgan fits the bill. I’ve been trying to get y’all together for the longest and you finally agree to go out with him, hit it off and you’re not going to see him again? That’s absurd. Of course you’ll see him again, even if I have to drag your tail out of that apartment.”
Jamila chuckled. “I don’t know, Nia. I have butterflies in my stomach just thinking about it.”
“That’s a sign that you need to go out with him again. Sleep on it and you’ll come to the same conclusion that I have.”
Jamila sighed. “Alright, girl. Let me take a shower and sleep on it. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Okay. Bye.”
Jamila placed her phone on the nightstand and unbuttoned her blouse. After unzipping her pants, she stepped out of them and noticed a piece of paper fell out which was interesting because she didn’t remember putting anything in her pocket. She picked it up, unfolded it, and immediately recognized Morgan’s handwriting.
An evening with you feels like forever
I never want it to end
I always want you near me
Even if it’s only as a friend
“Yeah, right,” she said smiling. “Friends don’t kiss the way you kissed me, boy. Quit playin’.”
Before she got in the shower, she sent him a text:
Found your lil’ note.
As if he’d been waiting by the phone, he responded immediately with:
Morgan: took you long enough.
Jamila: Excuse me? How was I supposed to know you were sliding notes into my pockets?
Morgan: right. You were too busy catching your balance when I was kissing you.
“No he didn’t,” Jamila said smiling, chewing her lip.
She started to key a response when his number flashed on her display.
“Hi,” she answered.
“Hi,” he replied.
“When did you write that note?”
“Before you came over.”
“So it’s premeditated prose?”
Morgan grinned. “If that’s what you want to call it.”
“How often do you write?”
“As often as I can of late, especially since this beautiful woman I know has been my inspiration.”
“Ah...I knew there was some other woman lurking,” Jamila quipped.
He grinned. “I meant you.”
“I know what you meant. I’m just playing along. Anyway, I wanted to tell you that I thought it was sweet, and the date was nice. It was the most fun I’ve had in a while.”
“Good. So does that mean if I invited you to Fahrenheit this weekend, you’d be game?”
“Oh! Um—”
Dang. He caught her off guard. She’d already told Nia she didn’t want to have another date with Morgan, but that was probably just the fear talking. Why wouldn’t she want to have another date with him when they had such a good time on the first one?
“Do you need time to think about it?” he asked her.
“Maybe.”
“Okay. I’ll give you five minutes.”
She laughed. “Five minutes? Really? I thought you were going to tell me to let you know tomorrow or something. You want to know right now.”’
“I do because I would like to spend more time with you, Jamila.”
There were those pesky butterflies swimming in her stomach again. The tone of his voice when he said her name was otherworldly – not something she could forget. While she wanted to turn down date number two, she couldn’t resist his charm, the notes and everything else about him.
“Yeah, okay. I’ll go,” she responded reluctantly.
“I don’t want you to be mad about it.”
“I’m not mad. What makes you think I’m mad?”
“You were like, yeah, I’ll go, negro. Ugh.”
Jamila laughed. “I did not say that.”
“No, you didn’t, but I don’t want a pity date. I want you to want to come with me and if you don’t want to, just say that. Just know that I’m not accepting it.”
“So, what you’re saying is, either way, I have no choice.”
“That’s correct.”
“Wow.”
“Have you been there before?”
“I have, once. I had a work function there years ago.”
“Good. Oh, and I know you’re Ms. Independent and all that, but I would like to pick you up?”
“That’s fine.”
“Wait? What? No retort?”
“Nope. I have nothing. What time are you picking me up?”
“What time do you get off work?”
“I don’t work on weekends.”
“Oh, well by weekend, I meant Friday night if that’s cool with you?”
“Yeah, that’s fine. I’m usually home by six.”
“Will six-thirty work?”
“Let’s say seven.”
“Then I’ll see you Friday at seven.”
“Alright,” Jamila said, smiling. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
She hung up the phone and said quietly, “Looks like you’re getting what you want after all, Nia.”