Page 38 of Curvy Girl Summer

I narrowed my eyes at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

His brows furrowed. “What?”

“You keep commenting on the way I look? You told me I need to smile, that I look like a bird, that I look better.” I took another sip of my drink. “Are you trying to psych me out or something? I thought you had my back!”

He stepped forward and put his hands on the bar. “I suggested a smile because you looked like you were being held at gunpoint. I said you look better because now you look like you’re here of your own free will.”

I pursed my lips. “You still called me Tweety Bird.”

“Because you have on a canary-yellow dress.” He gestured to me. “I never said you didn’t look absolutely beautiful in it.”

A chill ran down my spine.

I tried to hide my smile, but my cheeks heated. “Oh, okay, then.”

“See… look at you. You’re always so ready to give me shit, but you can’t handle it when I call you Tweety? You chose that color. You knew what it was.”

“You’re wearing a pair of jeans and a dirty shirt, so don’t comment on how I look.”

He laughed. “I just spent ten minutes using a bleach pen trying to get that cranberry juice stain out.” He pulled his shirt up a bit, and I caught a glimpse of his abs as he inspected the stain. “I knew I should’ve double-checked to make sure that top was on. How bad is it?”

My eyes jerked up to his face. “It’s not that bad. It just looks like something spilled on you. It doesn’t look dirty. It looks like… maybe you shouldn’t wear a white shirt behind the bar. But you don’t look unclean.”

“Yeah, but I came straight from work, so I didn’t get a chance to change today.” He pulled his shirt down and shrugged. “Ain’t shit I can do about it, so I’m not going to worry about it.”

“I like that attitude.” I paused. “But do you see how someone can point something out and get in your head?”

“I’m not worried about this stain just like you’re not worried about me calling you Tweety.” He leaned forward and got into my eyeline. “You’re just mad because you thought it was funny.”

“You’re not funny, Ahmad.”

“You think I’m hilarious. And I don’t blame you. I’m a funny dude.”

“You’re a Leo, aren’t you?”

“I’m not telling you shit.” He backed away. “Why would I give you more ammunition?”

I laughed. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

He grinned as he walked off to help the wave of people who’d just entered the bar.

As I finished the rest of my drink, it dawned on me to check my phone.

Donte:I’m here. I’m just looking for a place to park.

The message had just come through two minutes prior. I knew parking downtown could take a few minutes, so I used that time to calm my nerves. I needed a distraction.

“What do you do besides work here?” I asked Ahmad as he tossed cherries into the four glasses in front of him.

He served the drinks and took their money. When they walked away, he looked at me. “I work in IT,” he answered just as a woman bounded up to the bar to get his attention.

“Really?” I mused as he conversed with the woman.

“Aaliyah?” a voice called from behind me.

I glanced in the mirror in front of me before turning to the side. A swarm of strangers entered, and the bar was getting kind of packed. But the man staring at me looked familiar.

Light brown skin. Light brown eyes. Bald head. Strong build.

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