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They moved on to another stand where the food was just as good. Watching her mouth move as she ate had him wondering just what else that pretty mouth could do.
Stop it, Barry. He gave himself a mental slap to get out of the lewd head space that he was in.
Not that it helped much.
At one point, they ended up with a group gathered around a dancing Samba troupe. Xolani, along with other onlookers, was pulled in by the dancers. It was then that Barry learned that she wasn’t just a great athlete. His girl could dance too.
My girl? Barry wondered when he’d started thinking of her like that. This was the fourth time they were meeting, and he was already tossing around the phrase ‘my girl’? He had to be out of his damn mind.
She was a friend.
Just a friend.
That, however, did not mean that he couldn’t admire her dancing. Her arms and hips swung enticingly to the rhythm of the music and her feet moved fast enough to trip a lesser dancer. The way she smiled and made eye contact was alluring enough to draw the troupe members to her like homing pigeons.
Right then and there, Barry decided that they’d have to go dancing sometime. However, he’d make sure that he was her only partner.
8
SOON, XOLANI GOT TIRED OF dancing, and they moved on to other stands. As they walked, they traded opinions about what they’d liked when sampling and decided what they’d eat for lunch.
With full plates and drinks in hand, they headed to the sitting area. Barry picked a table that could only hold two so that no one would try sitting with them.
They settled at their table, and despite the attraction that was thick in the air between them, conversation still came easy.
“I thought black girls don’t swim,” Barry said in response to her telling him that one of her hobbies was swimming.
Xolani burst into laughter. “That’s just a stereotype. We swim.”
Her laughter made him smile. “Not according to all the comedians I listen to.”
“You’re listening to the wrong comedians.” She taunted, “I bet they also think we all have funny names and pop our tongues when we speak.”
“Um… I hate to be the bearer of bad news… but in case you haven’t notice,” he teased, “you have a funny name.”
“My name is not funny.” Though she tried to be serious, her eyes danced with humor. “Xolani is a common name in South Africa. And there, Barry is the funny, foreign name.”
Intrigued, he asked, “So you’re South African?”
“In spirit.” She grinned. “I’m South African in spirit.”
Her brazenness drew a boisterous laugh from him.
That wasn’t the last time she made him laugh. Whichever direction their conversation went, it always led to him smiling or laughing. He didn’t know if it was because she was genuinely funny or because he was so attracted to her that anything she said just made him feel good.
He suspected that if they’d dated, she would’ve been his best and most memorable relationship.
He had to ask, “Why did you say ‘no’ so fast to dating me?”
Xolani paused with her spoon in her mouth for a few seconds. Then she took the spoon out, chewed as she watched him, and then said, ‘You said no too.”
“I did,” he admitted with a wince.
“Why?”
The way she was looking at him gave the impression that he wouldn’t get an answer until he spilled his own secrets first. So he bit the bullet.
“I have a ‘no dating coworkers’ policy,” he explained briefly. When all that got him was a questioning look, like she was waiting for more, he said, “It’s a long and messy story.”
