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For me, love’s looking pretty nonexistent. I’d had the misfortune of being paired up with a blonde sociopathic groomsman at Jordyn’s wedding last month, but I didn't consider his over-aggressive and temperamental nature a turn on.
He’d said his name was Beau and that he lived near Jordyn's husband in the mountains. Seems fitting for him. A secluded place to take his victims. Anyway, I’m on my way home but first, food.
I pull my car through the parking lot of a soul food bistro, enroute to pick up my to go order. The oxtails, cabbage, and baked mac and cheese waiting for me is the kind of love I need. One that never fails me and never compares me to anyone else. I park my car, hopping out in hurry because my stomach is teetering around starvation and haul ass inside. Mindfully, I push my way through a grumpy clique of young women holding court in the lobby.
“Excuse me,” I say meekly as they look me up and down.
I’m not the coolest dressed girl you’d ever meet, nor am I the fashionista my big sister is, but I wear my clothes well. And Cheyanne always taught me to hold my head up. No matter what any bitch has to say.
Her words, not mine.
Tonight, my outfit comes exclusively fromOld Navy. High-waisted, wide legged jeans to cover my muffin top and a cropped sleeveless shirt that draws attention to my small waist and full breasts. It’s surprising to me that as plainly as I’m dressed, I’m still getting sideways glances from the haters.
I walk up to the counter. The hostess greets me then asks, “Pickup or dine in?”
“Dine in,” a vaguely familiar voice answers.
“Um. Pickup,” I say, glancing over my shoulder as the wedding “date” from hell approaches. He stands beside me.
“Remember me?”
Beau moves in closer. We stand shoulder to shoulder. I try my best not to make eye contact.
“Um. No,” I say, as if I’m asking him a question.
He shakes his head; a Cheshire grin replaces his usually grim demeanor. “Liar,” he mumbles.
“Oh yeah, the wedding.” I snap my fingers, feigning ignorance. “I remember now.”
He slinks toward me. “You here alone, pet?”
I jerk my head toward him. “What?”
“Are. You. Here... Alone?” The condescending tone in his voice is like nails on a chalkboard.
“I’m not eating here.”
“Where are you eating, then?”
“My house.”
He leans on the counter. “You inviting me to your place already? I’d love to. I like the straightforward approach.”
“I'm not inviting you anywhere,” I blurt.
“Should I invite myself?”
“No! God, what are you talking about? I don’t even know you.”
“We don’t have to know each other. Perfect strangers can have a perfectly good time together.”
“Dude. Like I told you at the wedding, I’m not down with all of this.” I wave my hand toward him, creating an invisible shield between us. He chuckles, his piercing blue eyes crinkling at the corners.
“You don’t have to be down with anything,” he says, his voice low and suggestive. “Just let me show you a good time.”
I feel my cheeks flush, and I avert my gaze from his stare. His eyes are like magnets, drawing me in and making me feel things I don’t want to feel. He’s a stranger, after all. Some weirdohotloser.
“Look,” I say, my voice shaky. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m going to have to pass.”
He leans in closer, his breath hot against my ear. The heat of his body so close to mine is making it hard to think straight. As the hostess sits my order on the counter, he reaches out swiping his thumb over my cheek. Instinctively, I knock his filthy hand away. He laughs, the sound making my skin crawl. “Feisty. I like it.” He licks his thumb, his eyes never leaving mine. I grab my food and rush pass the crowd in the lobby. The grumpy girls are hating for a totally different reason now as they stare at Beau. I’m halfway to the exit when he calls after me.
“Give me time, pet. Give me time.”
***
