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“Well, mostly I work. My father has Alzheimer's disease, and I spend a lot of my free time with him. I’m always traveling for work, so I don’t have time for kids or animals. I’m a pretty simple girl, I guess. My only guilty pleasure is traveling.”
“Where’ve you been?”
“Paris, Morocco, London, Dublin, Jamaica, Ontario, most of the fifty states, or just anywhere I can find something beautiful to see.”
“That must be nice. I haven’t left the country at all. I’ve barely been outside of North Carolina.”
The more we talked, the more we settled into us. We’d fallen into old patterns of random conversation flow that varied in deepness and comedic phrases. And that was before we realized we hadn’t gotten drinks.
“Gin and tonic with lime?” he asked, remembering my go to drink.
“Yes, please.”
He saluted me before he walked off on a mission. I watched his thighs as he walked away. Dante has always made jeans look so good. It was probably why I never wore them after I saw him in them. He made them look like they made them just for him. And his thighs were meant to be ridden, regardless.
Whoa!
I looked around at the nearby tables to see if anybody could hear my thoughts. I knew it was foolish, but they sounded so loud. Or maybe it was the country music blasting over the speakers. I occupied my time alone by texting my best friend, my dad’s nurse, and checking in with Sara to see if they’d found anything in the information I’d sent them.
“I hope you’re not working.” Dante came back to the table with a tray filled with wings, garlic bread, ranch dressing, two beers, two tonics, and two waters.
“Whoa! Who is all of this for?” I asked.
“Well, I didn’t want to have to get up right away, so I brought extras. I hope you’re hungry because I’m starving.”
I giggled because this was just like college. He’d always make me drink water while drinking to keep me hydrated, followed by food to keep something on my stomach.
“Some things just never changed,” I said to him.
“True. I think more has changed than we both have probably realized.”
“How so?” I asked while stealing a wing, which revealed fries underneath.
“Well,” Dante sat across from me as he was before, “you’ve grown up, as have I. I’m not the same knucklehead trying to borrow your accounting notes because I skipped class the day before the quiz.”
“True. I’m still helping you with accounting, though.”
Dante laughed silently while chewing on a piece of bread. “Also true.”
You’re sexier, though. I thought about the words but kept it to myself. I’d always crushed on Dante hard. He preferred cheerleaders and non-black girls. I’d never seen him talk to a single one. Other races? Sure.
“Have you ever dated a black girl?” I just had to ask.
Dante choked on a French fry. He took a sip of his water, still flustered by my question. “What kind of question is that? Of course I’ve dated Black women. You remember Amber.”
“She wasn’t Black. She was Puerto Rican.”
“Are you sure? She told me she was Black.”
“Positive.”
“There was a girl just before we graduated. Tasha. And there was a girl I dated here in town, too.”
“Okay… so you don’t have a preference?” I knew I was pushing the issue, but I wanted to know. Was I interested, though?
“I don’t, no.”
“Dante!” A group of women came over to the table and began hugging him one by one. I should have been used to it since women have always flocked to him.
