“I’m not gone,” I said, defensive. “I’m just saying… I felt different.”
“Mm-hmm.”
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t do that.”
“I’m just listening.”
I flopped back against the bed. “You don’t get it, O. I haven’t felt this way since we dated.”
She sucked her teeth. “See. Now you dragging it.”
“I’m serious!”
Orim was quiet again, but this time it felt more thoughtful.
“Rory…”
“What?”
“That man is your dad’s friend.”
I rolled my eyes. “And?”
“And it’s not gonna go the way you think it is.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do,” she said flatly. “Marlon Sinclair doesn’t cross lines like that and then just… keep going. There’s a reason your father trusted him enough to keep you.”
“Well. I guess I’ll have to change his mind about us.”
“Girl… that sounds like a terrible idea.”
“It’s a great idea.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Yes, it is.” I slid out of bed, walking toward the mirror. My hair was still wrapped from last night. The way Marlon left it.
I touched the scarf and melted.
Orim doesn’t know what she’s talking about. A man doesn’t just do things like this for someone he isn’t the tiniest bit interested in. I just have to make him see that I’m a risk worth taking. And step one is presentation.
“I need new hair,” I said, pulling the wrap off.
Orim groaned. “Rory. You are not about to plot on that man.”
“Too late.” I ran my fingers through my hair, studying myself. “I gotta go though. Talk to you later.”
I hung up and took a shower. A long, hot one, letting it run over my shoulders, down my back, clearing out the last of yesterday. I scrubbed my skin until it felt new and shaved what needed shaving.
Lotion and oils get applied next, layered right.
Then I got dressed in a cream dress, gold hoops and heels—because I already knew he liked the height it gave me.
By the time I was done, I looked exactly how I wanted to look. Put together.
I checked myself in the mirror.
