Patience.
I clear my throat and slide off my stool. “So, Saturday. Do you want to be my plus one or…nah?.” I pick up my phone and walk over to the other side of the island so we’re face to face.
“If you’re sure it’s okay.” The skepticism in her voice is absent from her expression. She’s grinning from ear to ear.
“More than.” This is the first time I’ve ever been glad about my dad’s position in life.
She hops down from her the barstool and presses her hands together. “Then yes. I’ll owe you.
“No. Just pay it forward.”
Her grin melts into a close-lipped smile that manages, somehow, to be dazzling. “Thank you, Kwame. I’dloveto be your plus one.”
I hold my phone out to her. “It starts at seven o’clock. What time shall I pick you up?”
She clears her throat and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. “Um… No offense, but how?”
“I have a driver with access to something nicer than my ten speed.”
She wrinkles her nose. “That’s not very encouraging Kwame.”
“Trust me. And if you don’t like it, I’ll drive us over in your car, okay?”
“Okay. Done.”
“And they’ll need to clear you through security so I’ll need your full name and how you’d like to be addressed on the place card for dinner.”
She cringes. “I mean, okay, but I’ll be there to work. Will you be okay by yourself or are you clingy?” Her cheeky smile creates a dimple I’ve never noticed high on her left cheek.
“Clingy? In your dreams.” I smirk. “I’m perfectly capable of entertaining myself.”
“I’m just making sure we’re on the same page, and if you want to text me we should probably finally exchange phone numbers. I’ll put mine in.” She nods at my phone. I open contacts and create a new entrybefore I hand it to her.
She bursts into laughter when she sees the name I used for her. “Good Sin?”
She rolls her eyes, but her smile deepens. “It’s an oxymoron.”
“It’s aspirational,” I quip. “Only time will tell.”
She laughs and swats my chest playfully. I grab her wrist before she can pull it away and tug her closer to me.
Her laughter dies abruptly and her eyes meet mine and hold. “What are you doing?”
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly.
The tension, the attraction, the longing that has been between us since the night we met is stronger than it’s ever been.
I stroke the index of her wrist with my thumb. “Your skin is so soft.”
She looks down where I’m touching her on a sharp inhale of breath. “Kwame,” she breathes, and it sounds so conflicted that I feel like a creep and instantly let go.
“I wasn’t thinking. Won’t happen again.”
She steps back and rubs her wrist. “I hope that’s not true. But we need to talk first, and I have to go. I still have a deadline for this week's column and I need to figure out what I’m wearing.” She smiles but she fumbles with the zipper of her purse until I nudge her hands away and open it myself.
“It’s always getting stuck.” She gives me a wan smile.
“Here you go.” I hold it out to her.
