Page 40 of Lost In London

I liked to call it not wasting each other’s time.

If neither of us served a purpose in the other’s life outside of sex, then what would be the point of me giving you access to the deepest parts of me? Better yet the good parts of me? What would a woman gain by tying her soul to me if we weren’t meant to be?

All of that giving and giving and not getting anything in return will eventually leave me empty and unable to give anything to the one who deserves all of me.

“Welcome to Posh N Juice. How can I help you?”

If ever I wanted to get a glimpse into London’s sense of style all I had to do was come to her juice bar. It was chic, bright and colorful, and extra. Very extra. Neon signs hung along the pastel pink walls. A wooden swing in the far left corner with a grass backdrop behind it. The chairs were either clear acrylic or colorful tufted high-back chairs.

“Can I have a large cinnamon sunshine with ginger and honey, please?” I knew it by heart. I’ve tried everything on the menu at least once and I loved each beverage. They were fresh, definitely could taste the difference between them and Smoothie King.

“Sure. Can I get your name please?” All of the staff at Posh N Juice were called Berries. The one taking my order, her name tag read Berry Shayla. It was cute. I noticed the kids loved to hear their order being called since the staff made sure to add Berry to their names too. It was a thing all over social media. I’ve seen the hashtags and retweets.

London was a whole brand.

“Quincey.” I handed her my credit card.

“Thank you Berry much, Quincey. Your order will be ready shortly.” While Berry Shayla skipped off to make my drink, I sat at one of the high-top tables and looked around.

For a Thursday afternoon, it was quite packed. Not only was it a juice bar but it served as a place to work, study, or relax as well. Free WIFI and lots of space to work. Music played in the background but not loud enough that it would distract someone from working. She even had a back reading area that housed a library of Black authors in all different genres.

“Here you go, Quincey. Enjoy.” Berry Shayla placed my order in front of me right as I caught a view over her shoulder of London and Olena sitting in the rear sitting area talking.

“Thank you.” My eyes were stuck on London not at all carrying about her fake lover sitting across from her.

That was another reason why I gave her and myself space. My feelings for London, the intensity of them came out of nowhere and I was ready to walk down the aisle and give her my last name just from sharing her space a handful of times. I knew I wanted London, wanted her in the worst way, but she wasn’t average. I wasn’t average. Our relationship would be far from average. I knew the capacity of my obsession with wanting to take her pain away, wanting to be her personal Mr. Fix It.

However, the last thing I ever wanted to do was to be selfish in my pursuit. I couldn’t force her to want me if she wasn’t ready. I couldn’t force her to want me, period. So, I went to my source. Fasting and praying about what I should do because I knew deep down in my heart that London was my person, that she was the creation created for me. Not only that but Quest had already prophesied and given me the confirmation I’d been seeking.

I had an idea of what loving her would entail but I wanted to be sure. I wanted to have clear instructions on how to court her in a way she was receptive.

Had to take it old school with that one but it didn’t take me long to figure out the links in her sorrows of pain. So I prayed for clarity first that what I felt who she was to me was indeed real. Quest ended up calling me around four in the morning complaining I needed to stop asking the same thing over and over again. The answers to my prayers were given to him in dreams and he was tired of dreaming of London and me versus his normal dreams of Dove.

Simply all I wanted was for her to have a spiritual awakening in the area of love so she could receive my love.

Mid-laugh London finally awarded me with her eyes and my chest set ablaze in want of her. In want of hearing her voice and laughter. In want of touching her wrist and feeling the thump of her pulse. In want of being transported into a world of blooming daisies and voluptuous greenery from her smell.

In want of her, period.

Her eyes widened and her mouth gaped open a little. If only my ears were supersonic so I could’ve heard the gasp flowing from her lips. Wasn’t long before her lover realized she was having a conversation alone. Looking over her shoulder, Olena looked around trying to find the source of London’s sudden distraction. Once she found me, I was greeted with narrow eyes that were almost deathly enough to send me to an early grave. To add salt to the spice of the situation, I winked causing London’s moca cheeks to welcome a cherry hue.

I bet Olena couldn’t make her blush like I could.

During my time away from London, only communicating through email, brief phone conversations, and text, I got the confirmation that I needed.

I had to court her.

Not just woo her and give her simp behavior. No. It was deeper than that. Courting London meant unleashing my heart's truest wants and desires.

Getting to know her completely. Understanding the pain in her scars and the heaviness behind her tears. Telling her corny jokes to make her heart exercise in laughter. Kissing her forehead in humbleness until she felt ready to simmer the anxiousness in my lips with hers. Listening to her dreams, goals, and fears and offering my wisdom on how she can elevate and evolve in her purpose.

I was ready.

I was ready for London Nicole Carter.

“Nice flowers.” Looking up from my phone, I got a glimpse into a jealous and worrisome heart. “Call me later.” Thinking her kiss on London’s mouth made me dance along with her song of jealousy, Olena smirked and walked away finally leaving me alone with our mutual flower of interest.

“Either my nose is playing tricks on me but do I smell garlic, Mr.Reid? Garlic and butter?” She closed her eyes and sniffed. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say that you have pizza in that bag of yours.” Her nose deserved an award. In the tote, I borrowed from Natalie I had a medium pepperoni pizza with garlic crust, Albanese gummy bears, and flowers.

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