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As much as I wanted to finish the meal, not having him behind me was a task. I started to question whether acts of service was my love language. With Angelo around, physical touch might reign supreme.
The chicken was frying on the stove, and the rice boiling beside it. On the TV I heard men talking. Angelo focused, as a scene of a football field flashed on the screen. Then a picture of him.
“That’s you,” I shouted like he didn’t recognize himself. I wiped my hand on a towel and walked over to the TV. “What are they saying?”
His face formed a scowl, but his eyes didn’t meet mine. He kept them on the TV as he said, “That I’m going to take the starting QB spot.”
My eyebrows bunched as I sat on the corner of the couch. “But,” I said, “That’s good, right?” From what he told me, that’s what he would be working toward. It seemed justified the commentators would say the spot would be his.
“Except, it’s from a comment I made earlier. I didn’t say that though. Those words never left my mouth.”
Earlier that day he was in my office. “I don’t understand.”
He looked at me and sat back in the seat. His arm draped over the back, and his legs spread wider. I focused hard on his face, so I wouldn’t get lost inhim.“At Fry Bread House, this dude approached me. I told him I’ll be working hard when he asked about the starting position.” He smirked. “My sister told me people would run and sell anything to the media.”
I sunk into the couch beside him. I worried about the few people at the office talking about him. His situation was unfair at the least and had to be annoying. “Anything you can do to correct them? Put something out?” I knew little about PR. The dentist office had a social media manager. But her job only extended to posts about specials, and happy customers.
“I’ll have to hit up my sister, or my agent.” He grabbed the remote. “I won’t get caught up in this.” Then he sniffed. “Gigi, is something burning?”
I jumped from the couch and ran to the kitchen. “Shit. The chicken.” It wasn’t the golden brown it needed to be. It burned to a crisp.
I turned the knob of the stove and leaned against the counter. My head hung and I cried. Tears streamed down my face, nose sniffling, shoulders bobbing.
His arms wrapped around my shoulders and pulled me into his chest. “We can order food.” The calmness in his voice made my shoulders stop vibrating. “It’s cool.”
“I don’t even—” I wiped my eyes.
“Tell me what happened?”
I explained, “The chicken was on the grease, and I walked away.”
He laughed. “That’s obvious.” He smirked and pulled my chin up. “I mean the tears. You don’t look like a person to cry over burnt chicken.”
I tilted my head. He was right. I wasn’t someone to cry over burnt chicken. Although burning chicken wasn’t something I did often. Or not ever before. “I don’t burn chicken.”
“There’s a first for everything.” He reached into his pocket. “Hold on.” He tapped a few things then said, “Food is on the way.”
“It is?” I looked at the pot of rice and turned it off.
“Come on.” He pulled me by the hand and brought me back to the couch. He sat down and eased me onto his lap. “Talk to me.”
“Angelo, shouldn’t you focus on football?”
His eyes narrowed. “How’d we get from burnt chicken to football?”
“It’s just…” I bit the side of my mouth. “This is happening so fast, and today was...” I didn’t have the words to explain how I was feeling. It was beyond confusing, even to me.
“Let me ask you something.” He stalled and I anticipated each breath that kept me from his next words. “Did your ex ever surprise you? Show up at your job in the middle of the day? Buy you a gift for the hell of it?”
I looked away from him and shook my head. “No.” I felt my chest rising. “I can’t believe I was going to marry him.”
“God needed you to experience him, so you’d appreciate me.”
My eyes searched him. The answer to my confusion wasn’t written within his eyes. I couldn’t taste it on his lips. The strength of his muscles beneath my hands didn’t add to my understanding.
His hands on my hips. When he lifted me from the couch without breaking our kiss. If there was a line I was trying not to cross. A box I needed to check. Lines that shouldn’t blur. None of that happened.
It didn’t stop me from deepening the kiss. From tightening my legs around his waist.Or smiling as I felt his length against my pussy.
