Page 37 of Ms. V's Hot Girl Summer

I stayed quiet, impressing myself with my restraint. He didn’t need my opinion on any of this; it wasn’t my business.

“Damn, that silence was telling!” He put on his sunglasses, and we ambled slowly to the car, both wanting to enjoy the sights and the festive vibe surrounding us.

“You know what they say? I’m eating my spice bun ’cause I got no water…”

“So, you minding your business?” He laughed and took two big bites of his spice bun, obliterating something that took me several bites to eat.

“RIP, spice bun, you never stood a chance.” I chuckled.

“You know me and my eating abilities…” he said, and flashes of last night materialized between us, raising my heartbeat and making me sweat more than I already was perspiring.

“Oh, I do know…”

“I have other prowess as well, in case you want to give them a try this weekend.” He popped another piece of spice bun, his third one, and hummed happily. That hum initiated an earthquake in my belly, making tectonic waves in my lower area. Everything he did was alluring, and that was a problem. I wanted to indulge but didn’t want to be sprung by this man. I’d done enough veering off my path to my goal.

“I’m certain, do you…we shall see which ones you get to put into practice.” I, too, could play this game. If Orlando meant to keep me off-kilter, I would return the favor. Game on.

“Anything you consent to, I’m yours…” he said as we approached his car. He gallantly opened the door for me, a habit I was quickly getting used to. I was getting used to all things Orlando, and that wasn’t fair to him or me because once I left on Monday, things had to go back to normal. They had to.

* * *

“So your friends are all staying in a hotel?” I asked Orlando as we hung out in the Florida room of the rental. The place had a wonderful sunroom surrounded by gorgeous vegetation, including a bush with pink flowers, which I searched and found out are called Bahama senna. The abundant small pink flowers adorned the perimeter of the backyard, their nice aroma calming.

“They are. I didn’t want them all up in my business.”

“You mean meeting your daughter?” I asked, sipping lemonade, which Orlando had made when we got home after hearing me complain about the heat.

“Yes, and other things…they don’t know I’m applying for law school. Well, I already applied. I haven’t opened the letter yet, but I think I got accepted. I have to reply to the university by the end of the trip, so I needed some space to make the right decision.”

“Congratulations!” I sat straight, stopping the rocking chair I was on as he swayed back and forth in the hammock he’d chosen.

“Thank you…” Orlando replied, a tinge of sadness clouding his voice. His eyes closed, and he kept swaying in the hammock, same way he probably swayed to make the right decision, and suddenly I understood.

“You love that animation job…the boys have told me how much you enjoy it.”

“I do, but I have to quit to be able to go to law school; Columbia doesn’t allow us to work while in the program.” His arms flexed as he placed them behind his back, the lean muscles peeking out from the short sleeves of his shirt. I wanted to run my palms where the hardness met softness, snuggle on top of him, and give him the comfort he needed.

Calmate, Trinidad. Honestly, it was like Ms. Hot Girl V was trying to take over this weekend, but I couldn’t let her. At least not fully. It wasn’t my time in life for that anymore. Just a little indulgence; maybe I could sneak into his room tonight, but nothing more. No acting like lust-sick fools around Ofele.

I couldn’t afford all of that; my heart couldn’t afford to remember what it felt like to be infatuated, and…why did this man bring these thoughts to mind? I was so content with what I was building with Milton, I was at peace knowing that wild, passionate love didn’t do me any good. But Orlando’s mere presence threatened that reality.

“But why law school?”

“The year for a first paid associate would cover all the debt we currently have. I would have Mom on top-of-the-line medical insurance so that she could get all the treatment she needs. She could use more regular therapy sessions and more care, but right now, we can’t afford that. I am good with animation, really good, but I am also good with retaining information. And I would be good at law school,” Orlando said, his closed eyes tightening every time he saidlaw school.

This man really was looking at this all the wrong ways, but was it my place to intervene? It was not. Just earlier, I’d told him I was minding my business. Orlando kept walking his path as if it was predetermined and he had no say in what happened. But he was the one in control. He didn’t seem to know it.

“Orlando, I think you could find other ways to help your mother if law school isn’t what you want. With the passion you have for animation, you could probably move up the ranks pretty quickly in three years.” There went keeping my nose out of his business. If my mother would be here she’d call me metiche and then join in the butting in.

“Yeah…maybe—”

A loud knock interrupted Orlando, and he sprang from the hammock way more gracefully than I could have done. I walked behind him as the nice, quiet rental filled with boisterous sounds as two men and one woman walked in, all chatting at the same time.

“Yoooo, you rich son, this house is nice!” A tall, lanky man, with the same complexion as Orlando but with curly hair, clapped Orlando on the back and whistled after the embrace. Just a look at him, and I knew he was the loud one of the group.

“Ugh, why you so tacky? Let the man live. Hi, boo, you good?” A petite woman who I could probably carry in my pocket threw her arms up at Orlando, who dutifully picked her up and twirled her around, her short curls bobbing with the movement. She was gorgeous, with flawless mahogany skin and an impish smile.

“I’m good, Gracie pooh, now that you’re here,” Orlando said.

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