Page 129 of Curvy Girl Summer

“I see you got the albums put away,” I noticed.

“Well, when I don’t have unexpected visitors, I have time to get things done,” he countered.

Amused, I held in my laugh. “That’s fair.”

He put down his stuff and rubbed his shoulder again.

“I’m going to let you get settled and get in bed,” I told him. “Do you need anything before I go?”

“Nah, I’m just going to take a shower and go to sleep. I’m tired. It’s been”—he yawned—“a long day.”

“I can understand that. Well, listen, if you need anything, I’m right downstairs.” I turned to head toward the door. “I’ll check on you.”

He followed me to the door, and when I reached for it, he stopped me. “Aaliyah, wait.”

I turned around expectantly. “Hmm?”

He stopped a foot in front of me. His closeness knotted my stomach and caught me by surprise.

“I appreciate you showing up to check on me. You blew off going to Cloverleaf to make sure I was good. You really didn’t have to do that”—he rubbed his beard, and a slow smile spread across his lips—“but I’m glad you did.”

The knot in my stomach grew. “I was just doing what any friend would do,” I replied breathily.

His eyes held mine. “Any friend wouldn’t do that.” He reached out and touched my hand. “And I appreciate that you did.”

The heat from his fingertips spread all over my body.

My back flattened against the door as I tried to create space between us.

“You’re welcome,” I murmured as we stared at each other.

The apartment was so quiet, if a pin dropped in the back bedroom, it would have sounded like drums. So when my phone started vibrating, it felt like cymbals crashing, breaking up whatever was going on.

I tore my eyes away from his and checked my phone as it continued to vibrate in my bag.

“It’s Lennox,” I told him. “I should go.”

“Oh. Yeah. Okay.” He reached around me to get the door. “Thank you again.”

“You’re welcome, Ahmad. Anytime,” I whispered before putting the phone to my ear and answering the call. “Hey, Lennox!”

19

“I’m really sorry again about our date on Friday,” I told Lennox as we sat on the patio of a chic restaurant, waiting for the food we’d just ordered.

The Wednesday-night crowd was tame, and the weather was perfect. My date looked great, I looked incredible, but something still felt off.

But maybe I’m just overthinking it.

“Don’t apologize again. We’re here”—he opened his arms wide—“enjoying happy hour together now, so don’t worry about it, okay?” He leaned across the table and touched my hand. “And honestly, I think it’s dope you care so much about your friends.”

“Thank you—”

“Did I tell you about that time…”

He regaled me with the tale of how he didn’t even tell his friends when he went to the hospital and that story turned into another… and another. Just before the food was placed in front of us, my mind started to wander. He was just as interesting and charismatic as he had been last week, but a little voice inside of me noticed how much he talked and how little he asked about me.

Fucking Ahmad.

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