Page 18 of The One He Desires

I take a chance and lift my head to see his eyes as they shine with several unreadable thoughts that cause a shiver to slide down my spine. I’m lost for words and can only nod despite not knowing what his gratitude is for. I don’t have to consider anything in this moment but the peace I feel in his arms. But all too soon, the song ends, and the connection between us is broken when a non-slow-dance song plays around the room.

“I’ll let you get back to your friend. But thank you for letting me briefly interrupt your night.”

With that, Sincere walks off the dance floor, and for countless seconds, I watch his retreat. Goosebumps still pepper my arms, my heart pulses, and contentment spreads across my chest, which makes me slightly delirious. I don’t know what it is about Sincere, but boy, am I intrigued.

Seeing Journee at the dance hall wasn’t on my bingo card. But I quickly made sure I capitalized on the divine setup. I don’t believe in coincidences, and running into Journee three times has to mean something. I lost interest in all conversations with my colleagues when my eyes landed on her. I mean, thoughts lost in translation and everything. I have never become stuck like that with a woman. But there’s something magnetic about Journee that I need to learn more about.

The first step in figuring out if my attraction was mental or physical was the DJ giving me the perfect alley hoop with the couple’s dance segway. What made it more interesting was my colleague Winfrey joining me to dance with the woman with Journee. My pulse was wild with every step we took, and my heart practically jumped out of my chest when Journee collided her hand with mine. Foreign images flashed quickly through my mind as I led Journee to the dance floor. The moment I pulled her into my body at the intro for the song, everything and everyone faded into the background.

I almost felt like Diana Ross when she sang her popular song in The Wiz, and I know that’s cliché to think. Yet, Journee made me feel things I wanted to bottle up. But no matter how much I should be completing right now, my mind is in left field. Journee’s image has been a constant in my mind from the time I cracked my eyes until now.

Just call her. You know you want to.

“But this ain’t how I move.”

To any unsuspecting person who passes my office, my competence could be called into question based on my one-side conversation. My stomach growls like a bear, and I take note of the time before a decision is made. Before I can stop myself, I send a quick message.

Me:

Good afternoon, Ms. Journee. How are things in the busy world of shop owners?

Corny!

I chuckle at the word because while I agree, I also don’t have the ability to change the message once it’s sent. Hopefully, Journee won’t assess me with the same lens.

Journee:

Hey. Things are good and not busy. I’m about to eat lunch in my office and watch Love Island on my phone.

Perfect!

Me:

Nice. What’s for lunch today?

I lock my computer and head toward my door, my concentration on the phone as the infamous three dots appear on my screen.

“I’m heading to lunch and should be back within two hours or so. Call or text if you need me.”

“Sounds good. Enjoy your lunch,” Cynthia says as I pass by her and quickly opt for the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator.

Journee:

Nothing much, just a couple of almond butter and jam sandwiches and some chips.

Me:

Sounds boring.

Journee:

Maybe, but it’s tasty.

“Yeah, that won’t do, little mama.” I push open the door for the stair entrance and take the steps two at a time until I’m on the ground floor.

Then I exit the building and head to where my car is as my mind shifts through food options. I feel inclined to feed not only myself but Journee, too. If I’m being honest, it’s not about feeding her so much as it is about me just wanting to be in her space and breathe her air. The woman got me feeling like a moth to a flame, and our interactions have been limited and nothing to write home about.

My chest feels like I’m at a rap concert as I walk toward the front entrance of Cocoa Luxe. My sweaty hands have me tightly gripping what I’m hoping will be a nice gesture that Journee will appreciate as opposed to being creeped out by. The doorbell announces my presence, and a cool smile slides into place as my eyes meet the woman.