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“You look cute,” she gushes at my appearance. “Where’s Brandon taking you?”
“He didn’t say, only that he’ll be here soon.”
“Well, remember curfew is at eleven. No drinking. No drugs.”
“Momma,” I groan, turning from the mirror to put my flats on. “You know I’m responsible.”
“Yes.” She kisses my cheek. “But I was seventeen once.”
Knocking resounds from the front door.
“Brandon’s here. I’ll see you later.”
“Okay. Be careful, sweetie.” She gives my arm a loving touch before I leave.
Brandon drinks me in from head to toe when I step outside. He’s cool as always in a casual long-sleeve shirt and jeans. Smells impeccable.
“You look nice,” he compliments.
I turn warm inside and out. “Thank you. Not so bad yourself. So, where are we going?”
He motions for us to head to the car. “Someplace here in West Heights.”
Brandon opens the door for me, taking off the moment he’s behind the wheel.
He takes me to a restaurant with commendable artwork strewn all over the walls. The interior is already aesthetically pleasing, from the burgundy bricks to the industrial style booths. But the impressive paintings add more vibrancy and edge.
“These were all done by black artists and other people of color,” Brandon informs me. “I came across that when researching places to eat in your hometown. Figured you’d like this one more.”
“I do. That’s thoughtful of you. I’ve never been here so even better.”
He offers a half-smile in return that melts my heart. The longer he stares at me, so unwavering and intense, the more I squirm on the seat.
Brandon lowers his gaze to my mouth and utters a low groan. He flicks away when the server comes over with water and takes our orders.
“Who’s your absolute favorite painter?” he asks.
I perk up from his question. “Frida Kahlo—a Mexican painter that pushed boundaries with her art. I admire her work.”
“I’ve heard of her,” he says before drinking some water. “That’s cool.”
I keep the conversation going. “You aren’t into sports?”
Brandon sets the glass down and toys with the utensils as he speaks. “I used to play hockey and soccer when I was a kid, but...” He peers off into space, picking at the sleeve of his shirt.
I study his features as I press, “But?”
He looks at me again and sighs. “I couldn’t get past something, which made it hard to play sports anymore.”
Intrigued, I ask, “What couldn’t you get over?”
Brandon dips his head and gazes up at me. “Remember what I said about telling you everything?”
I swallow hard. “First, you said you’d take my body. Then you said I’d probably run.”
He smirks. “Have you changed your mind?”
Zero hesitation, I tell him boldly, “No. I won’t run from you. I want to know everything, no matter if you think it’ll scare me.” I pause to catch my breath. “I want us to be closer, Brandon.”
