Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 112755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
“Nah, what?”
Her lips twisted, then she smiled. “I do like you. I care about you. It’s becoming a problem.”
He took a moment to mull her words while listening to the music—Coi Leray featuring Lil Durk’s, ‘No More Parties.’
“It ain’t a problem, unless you make it a problem, shortie.” He lit a cigarette, puffed it, then passed it to her.
“Question. Do you think people should be friends before they are lovers?”
“If they want to be. If it’s not forced and happens spontaneously. I don’t believe in a bunch of rules to this shit. We make it so complicated. What is supposed to be will be.” He yawned, then glanced at his phone, noticing several missed calls and text messages. He’d been at her house for several hours, but it only felt like twenty minutes.
“Sometimes, people who have been friends for years realize they love each other. They get married and live happily ever after. What do you say to that?”
“You were friends with your baby daddy first. How’d that work out for ya?” He burst out laughing when she tossed a pillow at his head. He ducked just in time, and it rolled onto the floor. “Sometimes, Desiree, people meet and only know each other for an hour, and then, before they know it, they’re fuckin’ the life out of each other. Right after that, they fall madly in love—and it works. Love don’t know shit ’bout no timeline. That’s some bullshit people made up. People go to the club, fuck on the first night, and stay together all the time. There’s no rules to this. Sometimes shit just happens. We can’t control it.”
“Attraction is carnal, and unpredictable.”
“Exactly. We’re attracted to what we see with our eyes,” He pointed at his own. “But then, that attraction grows. As you talk to someone, you get to know them, find out y’all complement one another. Can help each other. Motivate one another. Keep each other in check. Make each other feel good, but be brutally honest with one another, too. So, I’m good on all of this.” He waved his hand about. “Good on what I want. How I get here. Who I am. I’m good on friends, too. I have enough friends, Desiree. I’m on some other shit right about now. Church.”
He took the cigarette back from her, tapped the ashes in the ashtray, and smoked.
“Who are your friends? Are they like you?”
“Who are YOUR friends?”
“I have a couple ladies I’m real cool with. Met them in high school. Back to you. I know birds of a feather flock together. Who you hang with?”
He held up two fingers. “I only have two that I consider my best friends. Axel and Caspian. Caspian is from here, but lives in Georgia, near Atlanta. Axel is right here in Louisville still.” He brought his cigarette to his lips, then blew out rings of smoke.
“I think you told me this before, but just in case. Brothers or sisters?”
“I got a bunch of half brothers and sisters in Puerto Rico. Most of ’em I haven’t met. Just seen pictures. A dead brother. Tarik. Same mother and father. I got my sister. Mel. Same parents as me, too. We’re close. We have our issues, but I know she’d never do something to try and hurt me on purpose. You got any brothers and sisters?” He handed her back the cigarette.
“Mmm hmmm. A lot of ’em.” Her eyes met his, then she began fiddling with her cuticles.
“How old were you when you went into foster care?” he asked, curious about her childhood. He wondered if they had the same scars and bruises. Taken a tumble that messed up their mental health for life.
“Um, the first time, I think I was three. Then, after that, it was off ’nd on. Was in the system for a while. That’s when I learned to cook, and realized I loved it. I was with a foster parent, Ms. Jenkins, who taught me how to make all kinds of food. She was so nice…” She lit up while talking about the woman. “I wished she’d adopted me when I was in her care, but I wasn’t up for adoption, and she was older, in her seventies. The agency didn’t even recommend it to her.” She shrugged. “My mama got custody of me again, but I hated leaving Ms. Jenkins’ house. Most of the foster homes I was in were bad or they didn’t care if I was there or not. The foster care system is broken. Who taught you how to cook? Your mama? Your father?”
He noticed how quickly she switched topics. Let them go. Drop to the floor.
“My mother can’t cook to save her life, and my father was barely around. I taught myself.”
“Were your parents married?”
“Yes, but the marriage was short. They lived together for a while before they got married, but by the time I was six, and my sister, just a toddler, he was pretty much gone. He’d come by. Then, he eventually moved back to Puerto Rico and married some other lady. We barely saw him after that. Were your parents married?”