Page 63 of Curvy Girl Summer

I gave him a questioning look. “It’s not Darius or Leon, is it? You had less to drink than those two up there and none of you need to be drinking and driving.”

His jaw tightened and he swallowed hard. “Nah, never that. We’re calling a car.”

I searched his face. “Good,” I said slowly. “Are you—oh, I think that’s my ride.” I stepped forward toward the curb as the red car slowed to a stop in front of us. I checked the license plate against the plate number on my phone. “Yeah, this is it.” I turned to him and smiled. “Well, my friend, I hope you enjoy the rest of your night.”

He licked his lips. “Yeah, you, too. You be careful.”

“I will.”

“Let me get that for you.” Ahmad grabbed the back handle and opened the door for me.

A small smile pulled at my lips. “A gentleman!”

As soon as I was about to climb into the car, he reached for my hand. His touch took me by surprise and sent a sensation up my arm.

“I know I’m not your girls… or your sister,” he started, holding my gaze intently. “But if you ever need a laugh, I’m here.”

Emotion welled up inside me. I felt his words as much as I heard them. Caught off guard, I couldn’t immediately find my voice. I looked down at his hand covering mine, and my heart skipped a beat.

“Thank you,” I murmured as I got in the car.

He closed the door for me and then took a step back. Our eyes were locked until the driver pulled off. Letting out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, I put my hand to my chest.

What was that?

10

I felt like shit.

I wasn’t hungover, but it was clear to me that I drank too much. The only thing that made sense was that the alcohol, the music, and the good time forced me to feel something I shouldn’t have. It wasn’t just harmless-attraction flutters in my belly. It was a prominent tugging at my heartstrings. Ahmad was just my friend—mymarriedfriend.

I should’ve never had that third shot.

Guilt had my stomach twisted in knots. I needed to get my shit together, so I spent Sunday trying to shake it off. I focused on me and my self-care. With a massage, pedicure, spa treatment, and no less than twelve hours of sleep, I rolled into Monday feeling good.

I felt like myself.

As I drove home from work, my phone rang. “Hey, Jazz!” I greeted her in a singsong tone.

“You sound like you’re in a good mood,” Jazmyn pointed out.

I glanced at myself in the rearview mirror as I eased around a corner. “Iamin a good mood,” I replied, picking up speed to beat the yellow light. “How are you? Is everything okay?”

She sighed loudly.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she groaned. “Can we just talk about you? I need to take my mind off all the stuff here. Tell me about your date this weekend.”

“Understood. But you know if you want to talk, I’m here.”

“I know, and I appreciate it. I do. But right now, I need you to tell me about your date.”

“Oh, well, that was a complete shit show.” I launched into a retelling of what happened with Brayden and his wife. I concluded with how I spent the next couple of hours after he’d been tossed out, laughing and joking with Ahmad. “And then around midnight,it was way too busy for him to really have a conversation and I was getting tired, so I headed home.”

“This Ahmad sounds like a good one.”

My lips curled into a soft smile. “He is.”

“His wife is lucky.”

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