Page 75 of Can't Get Enough

“Wagwan,” I return.

“You not running the streets on a Saturday night?”

“Nah. It’s a lazy night in. Pampering myself.”

“I hope you weren’t planning to watch an episode without me.”

“I might be,” I tease. “What do you need?”

“I’m in your city.”

I straighten on my couch and lean forward, elbows on my knees because I don’t think I heard him right.

“And you just told me you’re home.”

“Yeahhhhh,” I say, drawing out the one syllable into a dozen possibilities. “And?”

“And I want to see you.”

I touch my hair, twisted into big knots and colored creamy white with three different products.

“I’m not up for going out,” I tell him. “I was just about to order some food.”

“Order enough for two. I could come over.”

“I’m notinvitingyou over,” I reply with a firmness the butterflies flapping around in my belly don’t approve of.

“Have pity on a friend.”

“Hmmm,” I grunt noncommittally.

“I came to town for this charity event. A fundraiser for a school I serve on the board of, the Young Leaders Academy of Atlanta. You heard of it?”

“Ezra Stern’s school? Of course. They do great work.”

“Well, I’m on the board so… thank you?”

We laugh together, and my shoulders relax a little. I don’t want to allow myself the pleasure of his company and his conversation, but every time he’s on the other end of any device—phone, iPad, whatever—my defenses drop and before I know it we’re two episodes into season two on Netflix. After the rapport we’ve built recently, I don’t want to test my strength of will in the flesh.

“I didn’t eat the food there, though,” he continues. “Can I come scoop you?”

“I’m wearing pajamas.”

“Throw on something.”

“I don’t have on any makeup.”

“Good. I love your natural skin.”

I scoff, but a small smile tugs at my lips. Charmer. “You’ve never seen me without makeup.”

“Then it’s about damn time I do.”

“I just washed my hair.”

“Got a hat?”

“When a Black woman tells you she just washed her hair, you should know that is a full-ass production and she ain’t going nowhere.”

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