I picked up my drink, took a sip, and shrugged like it ain’t take me nothin’ to answer.
“I don’t know,” I said. “You kept botherin’ me and I finally gave in. That’s really what this is.”
She blinked at me, then laughed harder. “Boy, shut the fuck up.”
I smiled at her for a second, then reached my hand out across the table without sayin’ nothin’ else. She looked down at it, paused for just a second, then placed her hand in mine. And honestly, the shit felt right.
I ain’t rush to say nothin’. I just let my thumb move over the back of her hand while we sat here lookin’ at each other like we both knew this wasn’t no regular situation.
“I wonder if this how gay niggas feel when they finally come out the closet,” I said, low enough for just her to hear.
She looked at me like I was crazy. “Do you feel like you came out the closet?”
I lifted my brow. “Not on no gay shit, but when it come to you… yeah. I feel like I’m finally steppin’ into somethin’ I been keepin’ to myself.”
She smiled at that, softer this time, then tilted her head.
“So you love me?” she asked.
I picked up my drink again, took a slow sip, then set it down while my thumb kept movin’ over her hand.
“Somethin’ like that,” I said.
She squeezed my hand and leaned back in her seat like she understood exactly what I meant without me havin’ to say it any clearer.
After that, the rest of the night just flowed. We laughed, talked shit, joked about everything and nothin’, and more than once we had people lookin’ over at us ’cause we was laughin’ louder than we probably should’ve been in a place like this.
I ain’t give a fuck though.
When we finished, I paid, stood up, and reached for ‘Nelle’s hand again. She took it without hesitatin’, and I led her out the restaurant.
As we walked out toward the car, I couldn’t help but look at her again. It was the way that dress moved with her, the way her body carried it and the way everything about her just… fit.
Then it hit me right then that I was gon’ have to be able to handle all that.
At this point, I was ready to see how far it was gon’ go.
“Renza… you sure you okay?” Sha’Nelle asked me while I was on top of her.
After we left the restaurant, we came back to the crib. Sha’Nelle found some candles, lit them bitches and brought them to the room we was gon’ be sleepin’ in.
At first, we sat on the edge of the bed like some damn virgins, tryna figure out who was gon’ make the first move and on somereal shit, I wasn’t used to movin’ like this. If I was gon’ get some pussy, I was gon’ get me some damn pussy, simple as that.
But this woman had me sittin’ still longer than I ever sat still in my life, lookin’ at her, then lookin’ away, then lookin’ back like I ain’t know what the fuck to do with myself for once.
It’s not that I ain’t wanna fuck Sha’Nelle, ’cause I did, and a nigga been wantin’ to for a minute. I just wanted her to like it. I wanted it to be right, and not just some quick shit I could brag on or laugh about after, but somethin’ she felt the next day and the day after that.
I had been starin’ at her in that damn dress all night, watchin’ how that shit hugged her, how her body filled it out like it was made for her and nobody else, and every time she moved, I had to catch myself from reachin’ for her right at the restaurant.
‘Nelle was somebody I ain’t wanna rush through or fuck up with.
Now, we was naked as hell and on top of each other. I had been suckin’ and lickin’ all over her neck while she held me close, and I could feel how soft she was under me and how her body kept pressin’ into mine like she wanted more, but I still hadn’t pushed my dick in her.
“Yeah, I’m okay. Why you ask me that?” I asked low, starin’ in her eyes.
She stared back and I swear a nigga chest almost fell open. She was thick and soft as hell, and the way she was lookin’ at me had me feelin’ shit I wasn’t used to feelin’. She still had her bandage on, and that was part of the reason why I was kinda… nervous, ’cause I ain’t wanna do nothin’ that was gon’ hurt her or have her lookin’ at me different after this.
“You seem nervous,” she whispered to me.
