Page 27 of The Virgin Playboy

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As the morning transitioned into afternoon, everyone appeared to be settled, as we prepared for our journeys home. “It was so nice meeting you guys,” supplying hugs all around, eagerly waiting for Jaq.

“Thank you for spending your weekend with us,” Yenory’s warmth felt all across the driveway.

“If you’re ever in Harlem, or in any strange case, Auckland, would totally return the favor,” I offered, even though I hadn’t been back home in years.

“Hey cuz. You don’t mind a detour on the way, do you?” Kaihautū asked, getting his last-minute hugs in. “If you’re not in a rush, I’ve got a client who’s in Providence at the moment, and since it’s so last moment, they’re paying me double the price.”

If Jaq and I hadn’t made other plans, I would’ve totally taken the trip, but as soon as Jaq was rolling her luggage to her rental, I took her waist in my hand and informed everyone of my other plans. “Actually, I kinda made other plans. Hope it’s not a big deal that I’ll riding home with Jacqueline.”

Cue in all the childish hoots and hollers. I had to convince everyone to simmer down. We were just being friendly. “Hey, don’t make it a thing.”

“I just had a few detours I wanted to take on the way back. And it’s always better with company,” Jaq defended.

“Maybe I’ll even learn how to say New Haven right,” I joked, loading Jaq and my luggage into her car’s boot. One last wave, and I joined her in front, ready whenever she was.

“You are now aboard the Jacqueline express,” Jaq said in her newscaster voice.

“I flipping love it,” I smiled.

“Well if you love that, what until you get a load of Connecticut pizza.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Jaq

“I feel like this road trip back home is the perfect way to get to know my student better. Hanging out this weekend made me realize there's so much I'd like to know about you. Were you allowed to watch TV growing up?” I asked, my fingers getting lost at the nape of his neck. He gave me this sarcastic purse of his lip that shifted into a smile.

“Jaq, I grew up LDS, not in a cult. Captain Planet, remember?” he argued, reminding me of a past conversation. “But to further answer your question, I was. But I grew up on a farm, so I spent a lot of time outside,” he explained, piquing my interest. Other than the calluses on his hands from playing the guitar, his hands were pretty gentle and soft. I had a hard time envisioning him getting his hands dirty.

“You worked on a farm?

“Don’t act so shocked. My folks have a dairy farm. It's been in my family for…probably since the British established crown control. I cared for mostly cows, but we did have some goat and sheep.” I laughed.

“Wait, so you were a literal cowboy?”

“Unwillingly. While all my other mates got summer jobs, I was always stuck on my family's farm, which is why it's kind of nice being in the States. I suppose back home there's this expectation for me to take over if something ever happened to my dad. My folks kind of left me alone about it when I decided to study overseas, especially when I got into Columbia. No parent's gonna pass up that to brag about. Which has me wondering, where'd you go to school?” Damn, that shit was so long ago. I really had to think about it.

“I'm sorry, I had a slight misfunction trying to think that far back. Let's see,” I started, listing them off my fingers. “So, for my undergrad, I went to A & M University, which was a big deal to my mom, because our family's from Alabama and it’s tradition to attend there. Then I got my post grad at Yale. And then I went for MFA at Georgia State. That pretty much sums it up,” I explained.

“See, that's what I love about my Black female classmates. When they get bored, it's like, let me just get another degree,” he joked, which definitely was me to a T. But the only thing stopping me from going further than was that damn dissertation, and all the writing that would take me away from wanting to pursue a career in fiction.

“I've always wanted to travel to the American South, but I've never quite had the opportunity. How did you like living there?” he asked. My face transforming into a wince.

“Don't get me wrong, I loved going to school there. I loved the chance to get to know my mom's family better. We are deep down there, and many haven't left Alabama. But it's a vibe I'm not necessarily built for. I like my fast life growing up in a city, and I liked growing up around different cultures and people more open to be themselves. I feel like it had a great effect on who and what I humanize.

Whereas, like, it's not everyone for sure, but because the South is so entrenched in religion, you do come across some intolerance. To counter though, there is a stronger sense of community that I love there. And living there kind of reminded me of the summers I spent in Barbados with my dad's family. It's like everyone knows each other. Everyone checks in on each other. The whole neighborhood gets together to dance and eat, whereas in New York it's common not to know the person living across the street from you.”

“Trust me, I've noticed. That was the biggest culture shock moving here. Where I lived it’s more or less how you described the South. Very community based.”

“Well, you seem well adjusted. You would have never given me the impression that you ever struggled here,” I admitted, because despite him claiming to own his neurodivergency, he was wildly social.

“It only took nearly a decade,” he joked, as I flipped through the radio, and he begged me to turn it back to a familiar tune; one from my era that he impressively knew all the words to. He obviously sang it better, but I couldn't resist the wholesome feeling that came with belting out the Kissing Game by Hi-Five. Only now that I knew he could sing, the boy definitely didn’t hold back.

“You know, when you told me you were studying, you failed to mention that you could fucking sing! Like hello how do you leave something like that out?”

“I mean, it's not like you asked. I have a hard time bragging about things that I'm good at.”