Page 69 of A Little Kissing Between Friends

“Aight then. What are you gon’ do?”

Chapter Twenty

Jucee

Yes, No, or Maybe?

I hated pull-ups with every fiber of my being, but they were the one exercise that didn’t allow me to think of anything else while doing it. There was no room to worry about the state of things with Poppa when I was mentally coaching myself through my least favorite body-weight cycle. Being a big bitch was all fun and games until you had to do a vertical on the pole, then you needed to be a big, strong bitch.

Hence, the pull-ups.

“Come on, Jucee!” my trainer called from behind me. “Give me two more. I know you have it in you! Let’s finish strong!”

I definitely couldn’t be in my head when I was getting yelled at—excuse me—enthusiastically motivated like this.

Concentrating all of my brainpower on my breathing, I sucked in a breath and released it as I slowly pulled myself upward until my chin was above the bar. As much effort as it took to go up, it was even more difficult to lower myself at the same pace as I gone up. The last thing I wanted was to tear a muscle or yank my arm out of its socket by dropping too fast. Once I was hanging back down, arms stretched above me, Jaz patted my hip.

“One more. Don’t rest too long. Let’s go!”

Nodding, I sucked in a breath and repeated the action one final time. This time, instead of hanging when I came down, I released the bar and dropped to my feet. As soon as I was standing, I allowed my knees to buckle and dropped down dramatically, falling first to my knees and then onto my side before laying spread eagle on my back.

Jaz stood over me, laughing at my antics.

“You made it. Good job.”

Stepping over me, she disappeared out of my peripheral, likely to go check on one of the other girls, while I once again focused on my breathing. Today’s workout had kicked my ass, but I’d loved it. Not only for the distraction, but for what I got out of it. The sound of weights clanking, feet pounding treadmills, and low music playing was all around me.

I gave myself thirty more seconds to cosplay a log before I rolled onto my side and pushed up on my knees. That’s when I heard the commotion. It was the “oohs” that got me; they indicated something eye-catching was happening and my feeling of missing out kicked in. Twisting to look over my shoulder, I searched the room until I found the cause for commotion. And then I promptly gasped.

Mouth gaped open, I stared wordlessly as Poppa strolled her fine ass across the gym to stand in front of me. She held a bouquet of artfully arranged fruit in one hand and a paper shopping bag in the other, the unmistakable Crumbville logo stamped on the front.

My heart was beating fast as hell as someone stepped up to grab the bouquet so Poppa could grab my arm and help me to my feet. No wonder everyone was on their high school cafeteria steeze, coming from other rooms in the gym. This felt very much like receiving a promposal from your crush during the busiest lunch period.

Once I was upright, Poppa reached to hug me, but I immediately stepped back, putting my hands up.

“I’m sweaty!”

There’d been a quick flash of hurt in her deep brown eyes at my retreat, but then she blinked and it was gone, replaced with a narrowed glare.

“When have I ever been put off by your sweat, Jucee?”

The inflection in her words had my heartbeat drop below my waist as visions of her licking the sweat from my back as she—

“Ooh, she nasty,” murmured Mercedes, pulling me out of my torrid thoughts. I turned to her, meeting her eyes as I twisted my lips to the side and gave her a knowing look.

Poppa was a lot of things and nasty was absolutely top of the list.

I laughed to myself before stepping into Poppa’s outstretched arms. This was so far from lowkey that you would’ve had to zoom out on the map to see them both. And though this public display didn’t fix anything at all, I loved a good spectacle. Get your grovel on, baby girl.

“Mmhm,” Poppa whispered into my ear, her fingers digging into my waist, “she real nasty.”

At that, I pushed back from her. Sex with Poppa was so easy. Too easy. Easier than it should’ve been, considering that I’d gone into it knowing how she felt about bisexual women. But that was why I knew I had to pull back, because if I let her, Poppa would fuck me into a raggedy amnesia-like, post-coital stupor that would have me giving her goofy grins and thinking we had it all.

Hell naw, I’d be damned!

“What are you doing here?” I asked the obvious, taking the proffered bag of assorted, freshly baked cookies as she turned to retrieve the bouquet from Shay, the gym’s owner.

Fruit in one hand, Poppa grabbed my bicep and led me over to an empty corner.