Page 112 of Curvy Girl Summer

Ahmad shook his head, ignoring me. Then he twisted his lips. “That was Aaliyah. She said hey.” He paused. “No, she doesn’t want your number. Take that shit somewhere else. I’m not giving her your number either.” He started laughing. “We’re on the way back from the store. That’s it. Anyway, what’s up?” He looked at his watch. “Yeah, I can be ready early. But honestly, man, I can just meet you over there. You don’t—I know.” He sighed. “Aight, I’ll be ready. Give me an hour.”

When he slipped his phone back into his pocket, I just stared at him.

“Sooooooo…” I started. “You’re just not going to pass along my messages.”

“Stop playing,” he laughed. “Are you looking forward to your thirtieth birthday?”

“I am. Don’t think I’m going to let you get away with just changing the subject. We will be circling back.”

He grinned. “I have no doubt. So, are you looking forward to the party?”

“I am. All the RSVPs have come in. The caterer has been paid. My dinner dress is here. Really, I’m just waiting on one thing.”

“The boyfriend.”

“I was going to say my party dress, but damn, Ahmad.” I let out a little snicker. “Rude!”

“What? I thought that was a good guess!”

I shook my head. “You’re so full of shit.”

“How are things going on that front? You lined up your date for this week?”

“I actually have. We’ve been having good conversation on the app. We’ll see how that translates in person.”

“You have what? Three Fridays left?”

“Yeah, don’t remind me. What did you do for your thirtieth?”

“I went to Jamaica.”

“Did you have fun?”

A slow smile spread across his face. “Yes.”

I elbowed him. “See, I knew you were for the streets.”

He shook his head. “Nah, nothing like that.”

I teased him the rest of the way back. When we got off the elevator on the third floor, he followed me to my place.

“Would you like to come in?” I asked.

“I would like that a lot. But Leon is about to be on his way, and I still gotta get my shit together.”

I nodded. “I understand.” I reached for my dress, and he held it out of my grasp.

“I didn’t say I wasn’t going to carry your dress in for you. I just meant I couldn’t come in and stay.”

“It’s too late,” I laughed, reaching up again. Grabbing at his arm, I tried to pull it down so I could get to the hanger. “I’ve rescinded the invitation.”

“It’s too late. No take-backs,” he returned, amused. “I guess it’s my dress now.”

I started trying to tickle him under his arms, but it didn’t work.

Chuckling at my feeble attempts, he used his free arm to wrap around me and keep me away from the arm holding the dress. It was about the third jump that I noticed his eyes dipped to my chest. My nipples were hard, straining against the spandex. My body was pressed against his, and although I was legitimately trying to get the dress, I was suddenly very aware of how close we were, how good he smelled, how strong his body felt, and how firm his grip was on me.

His face hovered over mine, and his eyes bored into me with such a fierce intensity that I didn’t know what was coming next.

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