Page 31 of Save Room for Us

“No and hell no. How old you think I am?”

“Hmm, like nineteen?”

We both guffawed at her shady ass reply.

“A nigga look nineteen to you?” I sat back in my chair, folding my arms and watching the way her eyes grazed my biceps.

“No, I was just kidding.” She drank some of her water. “How old are you again?”

“I’m twenty-six. So you got ’bout four years on a nigga.”

“How do you know that? I could be thirty-five.”

Sitting back up so I could be closer to her, I admitted, “Made it my mission to find out soon as Leeci brought yo’ ass around.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.” I nodded, and I could see the puzzled look on her face begin to form. “As much as this may sound like game or bullshit, Anastazia, from the day we made eye contact in my brother’s office, I thought about you at least once a day. Never forgot your face, your name, your voice. And when my brotheractually married Leeci, I was happy for him, but I was even fucking happier to have you close. I knew with yo’ sister being my sister-in-law, I would always know you.”

She watched me for a moment, then set her fork down.

“Asif, I’m not really what you’re looking for. You should be with a girl who is ready to have fun, travel, won’t have trust issues as well as other issues I won’t speak on at the moment, and just someone who has a different outlook on relationships.

“I have a lot of stuff to overcome, and you deserve better than to have to clean up the mess the last nigga made.”

A part of me wanted to ask what other issues she spoke of, but judging by all the shit on the news, I could somewhat surmise that a woman who was being taken advantage of sexually probably wasn’t too keen on fucking. And while I was a nigga who had a sexual appetite as large as the next muthafucka, I was also disciplined. My father taught me young that a man with no sexual discipline, when necessary, wasn’t a man at all.

He was further proved right when I witnessed Cemone’s ass easily go celibate for Yolani like it was nothing. The same nigga who changed bitches like it was nothing, was still somehow disciplined enough to cut that shit off.

“Well, for starters, love, you don’t know me well enough to say what I need. The woman you just described as my perfect match, I don’ hit ten times over and don’ ran into triple that amount. And that nigga ain’t make as big of a mess as you may think he did. In fact, I think he might’ve made you stronger.”

“No.”

“So you telling me another nigga can come into yo’ life and do you the same way that nigga did?”

“Hell no.” She frowned, but then it dissipated when she saw my point.

“Exactly, and I know you can read niggas’ intentions better now,” I stated, and she nodded slowly like it was just nowcoming to her. “And baby, with six fucking brothers in the house growing up, I been cleaning up after other niggas all my life.”

She tossed her head back in laughter before shaking her head at me and picking her fork back up.

After pondering for a moment, she replied, “Can we be friends for right now?”

“I’ll take it. Long as I’m yo’ only friend, we good, baby.”

She rolled her eyes playfully before smiling. I returned the gesture, hoping deep down she knew I wasn’t fucking around. ’Cause any nigga who called himself becoming besties with Anastazia Chase, I was gon’ have to pay him a visit, and no muthafucka with a working brain wanted a visit from me.

Two days later…

“You ready to eat?” I asked Anastazia, holding up a plastic bag.

“What is that?” she inquired, pulling her own lunch bag from the steel fridge. She’d made good on her promise, bringing me food she’d cooked yesterday.

“My lunch. I’m bringing my shit too now.” I went to sit down but not before peeping the soft simper on her pretty face. “Come on, love. Sit down.”

Only Anastazia could have a street nigga bringing his lunch like he worked a fucking desk job.

“Did you actually make stuff yourself?”

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