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JOÃO
I pulled into Imani’s driveway behind her mother’s car and stared at the front door, my stomach tightening in knots. With one hand wrapped tightly around the steering wheel, I took my phone from my pocket and pulled Imani’s contact up on Discord.
A green bubble appeared beside her name, signaling that she was online.
After typing out, I’m outside, I erased it and shoved my phone back into my pocket. I huffed to myself and slammed my driver’s door open, shuffling out of the car and to her front door, shielding myself from the snow with my suit jacket.
That was the reason I had dressed up. Not because I wanted to impress Imani.
Knocking twice on the door, I stuffed my hands into my pockets and pressed my lips together. Whatever this feeling was spreading throughout my body, zipping up and down my arms and legs, I didn’t fucking like it at all.
The door opened, and Imani’s mother stood on the other side.
“João,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “What’re you doing here?”
“Picking up Imani. Can you get her?”
She shuffled back a few steps to let me into the room, but I didn’t move from the doorway. I didn’t like this bitch at all, not only because she was a snotty asshole like the rest of the rich, but also because of how she treated Imani.
I remembered how utterly heartbroken Imani had been the other day, tears pouring down her cheeks in the middle of the street. It didn’t fucking sit well with me, especially how quickly her mother had changed her ways.
This bitch wasn’t trustworthy.
“Your mother is doing better,” she said.
Clenching my jaw, I glared at her. “I fucking know. I’ve been at the hospital as much as I could since.”
“If you want—”
“I want you to call your daughter down,” I said between gritted teeth.
Keeping an eye on me, Imani’s mother walked to the foot of the stairs. “Imani!”
After some rustling upstairs, Imani ran down the stairs in a pair of fitted jeans and a bright yellow crop top, her curly hair sitting naturally around her shoulders. I clenched my jaw at how utterly awkward this was.
“João,” Imani whispered, staring at me with wide eyes. Her gaze slowly drifted down my body—from my tie to my leather belt to the dress shoes on my feet. Glancing back up at my face, Imani curled her lips into a small smile. “Why’d you dress up? I thought we were—”
“You want to go out or not?” I growled.
I didn’t like the way she was looking at me. Nobody looked at me like that ever.
It was … fucking weird.
“Yes!” she said quickly, tucking some thick, curly black hair behind her ear. “I do.”
“Go get dressed in something nice,” I said, pulling out a pack of cigarettes out of my suit pocket because standing here in Imani’s fancy fucking mansion and having her look at me like this before I took her out on a date … it stressed me the fuck out.
“Okay, give me five minutes.” Imani quickly jogged to the stairs, turned around right before she ran up them, and said, “And, João, you look really good in that suit.”
A warmth spread throughout my body—something I hadn’t really ever felt. I pulled out a cigarette and lit it up outside the house, pacing back and forth on the walkway and glancing up at the second floor.
The light in one of the rooms turned on, and Imani tugged her shirt over her head through the window. She walked into another room and disappeared from my line of vision. I rubbed a hand over my face and pulled the cigarette from my mouth, unable to believe that Imani had talked me into taking her on a date.
I don’t date.
I don’t care.
I …
