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The fact that family meant so much to her was yet another reason I sensed Kemara was everything I’d been waiting for in a woman. I typed back my reply, after jotting down her address, just in case it got lost through our mountains of texts.
Me: Thanks. I can't wait for our date. And you're such a sweetheart, the way you look after your sister.
Kemara: You just keep thinking that, stud.
I laughed. It was cute how she called me a stud, and it had me anxious to see her again and see her cute smile quirk up at the edges. Then thinking about her sexy lips on mine had me forgetting that I was in the middle of a text message.
Me: So you think I'm a stud? Huh?
Kemara: Shoosh, unless you want to get hammered.
I chuckled, already trying to come up with a good comeback, when my phone buzzed again.
Kemara: Can we please keep pretending half the stuff I say isn't a bad innuendo?
God, she was adorable. No woman had ever made me smile the way she did.
Me: Sure can.
The back and forth between Kemara and myself went on for another hour after that, until we both admitted that we needed to get some sleep, so we could get up and get ready for work the next day.
However, on my end…I wanted nothing more than to talk with her for another hour or two. I wanted to talk to her all night if she could sustain that, but lying in bed that night, I had a moment in silence where I could just think about her and that satisfied my needs for a little while.
Going through the rest of the week was something that wasn’t all that easy. We talked on the phone several times during the week and we texted one another every day. Finally, Saturday came around and it was time to pick her up. I wasn’t nervous to get on with this date, because in the past week of communicating as much as we could, she put me at ease. Kemara was a sweetheart, and I was lucky she agreed to go out with me.
I wasn't surprised to discover she lived in the city, which was about an hour's drive from my home. That would explain why I hadn't seen her before, even though I'd seen her friend several times.
I pulled up in front of her apartment building. It was neat and clean and a bit on the upscale side; my rusty pickup stuck out like a sore thumb in front of it. Part of me was surprised she even took me up on my offer. Most professional women wouldn't give a redneck like me the time of day. Glad she was willing to take a chance.
She buzzed me in and I headed upstairs with a bouquet of roses in my hand. Another first for me, but I was going all out. I had this nagging feeling that somehow I was going to screw this up and I needed all the positive collateral I could get when I did. When she opened the door, my jaw dropped. She wore a sleeveless black dress with lace covering the top of it and her hair down and to the side. "You look amazing," I breathlessly said, gasping at her beauty and thinking it was some crude joke that she agreed to go out with me. I felt out of her league and needed to be on my best behavior with her.
She smiled as she took the flowers from me. "Thank you.” She took a whiff of the roses and smiled. “Come in, while I put these in some water."
Her place looked just like I imagined. A strange combination of sleek and cozy that somehow fit her. There was a place for everything. At the same time, it felt welcoming, like it wouldn't be hard to find a place for me too. She came out of the kitchen with the flowers in a vase. She placed them on the table and was ready to go.
When we got to my truck, I held the door open for her. I hoped there wasn't anything in there that might get her dress dirty. I was wearing a suit jacket, usually something I'd only do if someone had just died, but I figured it was a requirement for the restaurant I was taking her to.
We pulled up in front of the restaurant, and I handed the valet my keys. He looked down at them, then at me, and then at my truck. I gave him a look that strongly suggested he park my truck without opening his mouth. He took my suggestion to my relief. I didn’t think Kemara would appreciate it if I got into a fist brawl with the valet concierge before we went into the restaurant.
After we took our seats, I could tell something was wrong. Kemara read the menu with her face all pinched up like she was looking at a bad report card.
"What's wrong?"
It hit me that maybe she didn’t like Mexican food. I didn’t even ask her if she did, I just planned the date and went with it. I opened my mouth to inquire and to suggest we p;could go somewhere else. There was a nice Steakhouse just a few streets back, but she didnp;;/0;’t let me get my words out.
"Please don't get offended when I ask this, but how can you afford this?" She looked at me, one eyebrow raised and her mouth slightly agape.
Well, that was certainly not what I thought she was going to ask.
"I'm a drug dealer," I said, delivering the line with a straight face and a perfectly flat voice. I amazed myself at how easily I said it. Poor Kemara looked like she was going to have an aneurysm then and there, so I couldn't hold my straight face for long. I laughed. "I'm just kidding. I work and I had some money saved up. That's all." I shrugged, playing it off, but she didn’t seem at all convinced.
"You're spending your savings to take me out?" she asked. Her face was solid, not a splash of amusement in her eyes.
"Yeah, you're worth it. Aren't you?" I asked, smirking, so it could hopefully lighten the mood.
She rolled her eyes. "If you say so." Even her mock annoyance was adorable. “I would have been happy with a pool hall, but that’s beside the point.” She looked back at her menu and I listened to her words. So, the good thing about that was, she wouldn’t expect this all the time, but I wanted to get the conversation off the prices of the date and onto something that was less intimidating.
"So, what do you do?" I asked, just wanting to make simple conversation, not trying to measure exactly how far out of my league I actually was.
