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She shook her head, still in a fit of laughter. “No. It was really good. It’s just that I was a little piggish is all.”
“I don’t mind that even a little bit.”
That comment seemed to sober Lennox up. I didn’t know if that was a good thing or bad.
“Guess what I bought last night?”
“I have no idea.”
“A book. Care to take a guess at whose?”
“No clue.”
“Nyles Adams’.”
My brows flew into the air. “Word?”
Smiling animatedly, Lennox nodded. “Yup.”
Nyles was a Black, contemporary spoken word poet. He verbally sparred with our culture, specifically our generation, using compelling, colorful words, creating imagery for enlightenment. It was funny how Lennox and I both dug his work.
I grinned her way.
“You’re tired.” She observed, tapping the face of her phone.
I rubbed my face, fighting back a yawn. “I’m good.”
With a conspirator’s grin, Lennox pushed off the sofa, toed around the coffee table, and planted herself at the far end of my side. She handed me her phone. “I’m bushed. Read me a few bedtime stanzas.”
On the face of her phone were words to a familiar piece. I snorted, “I don’t need that.” I gently pushed at her soft arm, rejecting the aid of the book. “That’s my shit—Remember.”
Lennox curled her legs beneath her, settling into the sofa. “Oh, really? What you know aboutRemember?”
I lay my head back on the soft, suede cushion and exhaled. Then my mind settled on what my heart felt at the moment with having her so close to me. “I miss what I never had. I want what was never mine. I wanna be a kid again. Maybe then I’ll understand this world I’m living in. Maybe then I can settle down, not be lost but found.”
“Mmmm!” she quietly hummed her encouragement of my selection with closed eyes.
“But right now, I’m stumbling in a haze of mumble rap and Instagram fame, foreign hair and body shame. But as long as I remember…”
I peered over to Lennox, catching her lids cracked as she looked to me. She finished along with me, “I damn sure won’t forget.”
“Today?” I asked, fingers suspended over the keyboard of my laptop while I gaped at the phone propped on a pillow next to my hip.
“Yeah.” Mya giggled. “We can grab breakfast from theBrown Baristas near your hotel. I know you’re crazy about their coffee and pastries.”
My stomach growled at the same time a lance of panic struck my chest. Unhurriedly, I gazed around the plush suite, mutedly admiring the sage-hued walls, stark white sofa across from me, and the thick, quilted bedding I was nestled inside of. It was all calming, a relieving harbor from my truth and the chaos accompanying it.
“I can come pick you up,” she amended, rivaling my refuge.
Before I could conjure an answer, a soft, yet announcing rap sounded at my door. Quickly, I tapped to mute the call. “Come in. I’m on a call,” spilled as a whisper.
The door cracked, then slowly swung open to a rolling cart topped with food. The churning of my belly intensified as did the fright. Tobias’ eyes were sagaciously on me as he wheeled the food to the side of the bed. His presence had me questioning my consciousness, and his scent made me feel loopy.
And shame. Sudden recollection of his essence here in the bed last night, long after I left him for the night had me feeling embarrassed. Thigh-clenching and heavy breathing preventing me from falling out as quickly as I should have, considering the length of my day. Seeing him yesterday caused a cavalcade of emotional and physical responses I hadn’t planned for. Maybe it was because I was way out of practice with making myself available to men, or Tobias was just that damn tempting, but I was undeniably attracted to him.
SporadicFaceTimingand regular scrolls down hisInstagrampage painfully reminded me of how handsome he was over recent years. However, being with him—alone—in the flesh did things to my mind and body I hadn’t accounted for when agreeing to staying with him this week. Last night, I wanted to touch myself. The pounding of my sensitive flesh between my thighs was downright painful. The secretions smeared on toilet tissue when I forced my way to the en suite bathroom was evidentiary of my attraction to him.
Thinking slowly, but moving swiftly, I unmuted the call. “That’s not going to work. You coming north to Newark, just for us to drive down to Central Jersey—”
