Page 9 of Broken Clocks
My mouth fell open.
“Did you just ask me what I think you did?”
He grinned nervously. That confirmed it. This motherfucker had lost his entire mind.
“It would show me that you’re ready to move forward to the next level of our relationship. We’re about to graduate. Don’t you want to prove to me that you’re wifey material?”
“Fuck you!” I yelled louder than I meant to, and I swear I could hear every head in the café turn in our direction.
My face heated. I wasn’t shy, but I hated too many eyes on me at once.
Isaiah kept talking, but I couldn’t hear him. The sound of my blood rushing in my ears drowned him out. I stood, knocking over my chair. He was a joke. He grabbed my arm when I tried to leave.
“Don’t do that, Eshe. I told you before about walking away from me when I’m talking to you.”
“Fuck you,” I hissed again between clenched teeth, simply because I couldn’t formulate the words to cuss him out properly—not with everyone watching us. I snatched my arm out of his grip and stormed out of the café.
I needed a joint and a glass of sangria.
I was lucky I only lived a few blocks away, because Isaiah had driven. It was about to be dark, and I didn’t live in the best neighborhood. I cursed under my breath with each step I took, walking in the direction of my granny’s house. And with each step, I realized I wasn’t even that mad. I didn’t even like him anymore. Like most men, he liked Sinica. That was expected. She was that universally gorgeous, trophy-wife type men dreamed of having at their side. This wasn’t the first time I’d dealt with a man who started having dreams of fucking a bad bitch once they met her. I didn’t even take it as a slight. The same had happened to her involving me. Men seemed to like to play in other people’s yards.
Sinica was a pretty girl with a nice body, but she was vapid at times. A couple of her boyfriends during freshman and sophomore year had called themselves liking me, because I was cute with a nice personality. So now we just kind of kept our love lives separate. No double dates. No introductions unless it was serious and he could be trusted.
“That was fucked up, what happened back there.”
I nearly jumped out of my shoes, startled by a voice behind me. I was usually better at paying attention to my surroundings. I spun around, mace in hand, ready to spray whoever had crept up on me.
It was the guy from the café.
I lowered my hand and tilted my head, glaring up at him.
“You scared the hell out of me.” I reached out and shoved his shoulder.
“Already with the love taps?” he joked.
“What can I do for you, Mr...?” I paused, waiting for his name.
He licked his luscious brown lips and ran his eyes from the top of my head to the bottom of my feet, pausing at a few of my more visually appealing spots. I was grateful I hadn’t left the house looking a mess. I wore a denim mini skirt and a button-up denim shirt. My thick but firm thighs were on display, along with a healthy amount of cleavage.
I still fought the urge to squirm under his gaze.
“Donte. My name’s Donte.”
“Nice to meet you, Donte. Would you like for me to turn around so you can get as good a look at the back as you did the front?”
A smile parted his lips. Almost instantly, the situation with Isaiah was forgotten. Though I was a little embarrassed this man had witnessed what happened, I played it cool as the sexual energy between us heated the already stifling night air.
“No, I’m good. I got an eyeful when I followed you out.” He combed his fingers through his beard and grinned.
“Oh, really?” I cocked my head to the side. “You aren’t even going to pretend to be ashamed about it, either?”
He shook his head. “None at all.”
“What’s your name, pretty?”
“I’m Eshe,” I said.
“That means Life.”
