Page 103 of Curvy Girl Summer

But Ahmad not being interested in me hurt my heart.

And I wasn’t ready to deal with that.

I tossed and turned all night, and when I finally got out of bed Saturday morning, I still couldn’t do anything about the heaviness on my chest. Every time I thought about Ahmad, I felt such a volatile cocktail of emotions. I had so many questions. And all night thinking about Nina’s questions forced me to one conclusion.

Maybe I do need to talk to him.

I didn’t have his number. I didn’t know where to find him except on Friday nights. But I knew his full name, and I knew he lived in my building. I grabbed my phone and hesitated for only a second. When I felt that pang in my chest, I called down to the leasing office.

“Hi. Is Angelique available?” I asked as soon as someone answered.

“Yes, one moment, please.”

I nervously paced from one end of my apartment to the other.

“Hello. Angelique speaking,” the property manager answered.

“Hi, Angelique. It’s Aaliyah! How are you?”

“Aaliyah! How is the woman who saved my ass?”

I laughed. “I just fixed your computer. You are too funny.”

“You saved my ass. What can I do for you? You don’t have any maintenance issues, do you?”

“No, no, nothing like that.” I stopped in the living room and stared at my coatrack. “I have something that belongs to Ahmad Williamson, and I don’t know his apartment number.”

With my fingers crossed, I waited to hear what she would say. I heard keys clicking and tapping.

“We usually don’t give out that information,” Angelique started. “Even though if you have something of his, it would be quicker for you to put his correct address on it and place it in the mailroom room.” A few more clicks. “Oh, and it makes sense why they got it confused. You’re 303, and he’s 503.” She paused. “So just address it to 503, and then it’ll get worked out.”

Biting my bottom lip, I stared at Ahmad’s umbrella. “Okay, perfect. Thank you.”

I showered, and pulled on a pair of black yoga pants and a matching black racer-back tank top. My hair was pushed up into a high puff, and I put in a pair of white-gold hoops. With no makeup, no plan, and no invitation, I marched to the elevator and took myself to the fifth floor. Armed with his umbrella and a need for answers, I knocked on Ahmad’s apartment door.

It wasn’t until after I heard the shuffling on the other side of the door that I had doubts about my actions.

I look like a stalker.

It’s nine o’clock in the morning.

I should’ve called Nina and Jazz and run this plan by them.

What am I doing?

What the fuck am I doing?

You know what, no… I deserve answers. I demand answers!

I shouldn’t be the one nervous. He should be the one nervous!

With a confused expression on his face, Ahmad opened the door. “Aaliyah?”

Shook, my mouth went dry.

Reality hit me: I really just showed up at this man’s place.

Even in a pair of gray sweatpants and a disheveled white T-shirt,he looked good. It was hard to look into his eyes, so I found myself staring at his lips.

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