Page 58 of Crash: Love in Scrubs
“You ain’t gon let that go huh?”
“Yeah, not for at least three or four years,” I laughed as the doorbell rang. We both looked toward the front door, then at each other.
“That’s probably him,” I said, suddenly nervous.
“Go answer it,” Samaj said with a knowing smile. “I’m going to get cleaned up.”
I smoothed down my burgundy spandex shorts and crop top set that hugged me perfectly and showed off my curves just right. Taking a deep breath, I headed to the front door, my heart racing with anticipation.
Through the peephole, I could see Malik standing on my porch, looking good enough to eat in a Nike short set. He had a bottle of wine in one hand and what looked like dessert in the other.
I opened the door, and his eyes immediately traveled down my body and back up, lingering on my exposed midriff.
“Looking good as usual, LT,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. “Stomach out, ass out. I brought banana pudding, but I’d much rather have you for dessert. You gon let me?”
“Maybe,” I said with a flirty smile, stepping aside to let him in. “Depends on how good you’ve been.”
He stepped inside, setting the wine and dessert on the side table before turning to face me fully. “I’m always good, baby.”
Before I could answer, he came closer, leaning in to kiss my lips. I moaned a little, tasting mint and Chapstick.
“Missed you,” he murmured against my mouth.
“It’s only been a few hours,” I laughed breathlessly, but I had missed him too.
“Too long,” he said, kissing me again before we heard Samaj’s wheelchair approaching.
“Y’all better break that up before I have to bleach my eyeballs,” Samaj called out, rolling into the living room looking freshly showered.
Malik stepped back but kept one arm around my waist. “What’ we know, Maj? How was the game?”
“We won, so it was good. And we know we got this. You good?”
“Better now,” Malik said, giving Malik dap. The sincerity in his voice made my heart skip.
We all took a seat at the table. I made plates and passed them around, we said grace and dug in. They seemed to have jokes amongst each other, and I loved that. He was with Malik at least three times a week, so it was natural for them to bond. Malik always told me how much Samaj reminded him of himself, which is how he knew my son would make better decisions moving forward.
We ate, laughed, and had a good night. The boys praised my stuffed shells and helped me with the kitchen until Samaj retreated to his room. Me and Malik took the wine onto my patio and cuddled up under the string lights.
“Thank you for inviting me tonight,” he said, pressing a kiss to my temple. “I felt at home. Needed that.”
“I felt like I needed to prove I could cook,” I shrugged, laughing. “Is something wrong?”
“I don’t care one way or the other. You’re stuck with me even if you burn water. We’ll just hire a chef,” he said, and I giggled, but I clocked how he dodged the second half of my question.
So, I asked it a different way.
“You good? You miss home?”
He shifted. I reached up and grabbed his beard, gentle but firm, turning his face toward mine.
“Look at me. Is everything okay?”
He paused looking lovingly in my eyes before nodding. “Nothing I can’t handle. And yeah, I always miss home. There’s something about the South that don’t hit the same anywhere else. I’ll get back soon.”
We sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the sounds of the evening settled around us. Crickets chirped in the distance; a soft breeze rustled through the trees. The night was beautiful, not too hot and not too cool. It was Friday and that meant my neighbors would be partying tonight, if they weren’t already. I could already smell the grill going. The night air relaxed me a little. I was a creature of comfort.
“What’s on your mind?” he asked. Aware that my mind was running a mile a minute. I desperately wanted it to slow down, but we were getting closer every day, and I had questions. Questions I hoped didn’t run him off.
