Page 11 of Continuum

“Bad night?”

Not in the mood to be hit on again, I swiveled around to the deep voice behind me. Before I could get my words together to shut him down, my breath got caught in my throat. Although his flawless mahogany skin hadn’t aged a bit, he looked simultaneously different and the same. But I would’ve known those thick eyebrows and intense eyes anywhere.

His dark eyes sparkled as recognition hit him. “Aisha?”

“Kwame.”

*****

Chapter 2

Kwame Mitchell was always fine, but damn. His broad shoulders were broader, and his body was thicker. He had swapped out his deep waves for a bald head. His clean cut, chiseled jaw was covered with a luxuriously well-kempt beard. His signature Sigma Omicron Nu jacket was replaced with a designer suit that was tailormade for his body. Grown ass man looked good on him.

“Holy shit,” he swore before sweeping his eyes down my body. “You look… wow.”

“Thank you,” I replied, cocking my head to the side. “You look pretty wow yourself.”

The way he was openly staring at me was overwhelming my senses and my stomach was in knots. I needed to shake it off, but I was completely caught off guard.

“Um, did you happen to see the woman with the two blue streaks in her hair?” I asked awkwardly.

“I didn’t see anyone but you,” he replied.

I giggled, shaking my head. “Are you flirting with me, Kwame Mitchell?”

He grinned. “I always flirted with you. You were just too busy giving me shit to notice.”

I rolled my eyes. “I was too busy helping you pass your statistics classes.”

“You’re right about that. And I am forever grateful.”

I cocked my head to the side and gazed up at him. “It was my pleasure.”

He extended his arm and instinctually, I went in for a hug.

“Oh!” His tone conveyed surprise before he wrapped his arm around me.

I froze momentarily. Breathing in his cologne and then exhaling slowly, I took a step back. “You weren’t reaching out for a hug, were you?”

His licked his lips before he smiled and extended his arm again. “Aisha, this is Eli Simmons.”

Following his arm, I turned my head until it reached a pale man with ice blue eyes.

Flashing me a smile, Eli handed Kwame his phone. “Thanks, man. I can’t believe I let mine die.” His eyes danced over my face. “So, who do we have here?”

Kwame slipped the phone into his pocket. “Aisha Young, this is Eli Simmons, my colleague. Eli, this is Aisha…”—he paused as his eyes met mine— “my tutor and friend from my Hamilton University days.”

Eli reached out and shook my hand. “Oh, a friend! Okay cool, I thought I had walked in on something,” he laughed. “Nice to meet you, Aisha.”

“It’s nice to meet you as well,” I replied once he released me from his grip.

“K’s been talking about HU all day so this must be a sign, eh?”

I smirked. “It could be.”

“I’m sure K told you that we just scored a huge account. And because of this contract that we will finalize on Monday morning, we will return to Chicago where bonuses no doubt await us.” He raised his hand and lifted two fingers to get the bartender’s attention. “Whiskey neat,” he called out. “Two—, make that three!” He glanced at me. “Aisha, a friend of K’s is a friend of mine. Thanks to this man right here, my disposable income just got a little more disposable. Let me buy you a drink.”

“Sure. Why not?” I glanced at Kwame who was staring at me. “What?”

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