Page 5 of Ready or Not
“Solène.” He gave me a nod, rolling my name around on his tongue as if testing it. “French?”
“Mhm.” I nodded, finally taking a sip of my drink. “Haitian grandparents.”
“Interesting.” He mused with a slight tilt of his head, as if intrigued by this new piece of information while silence settled between us, the music and chatter from the surrounding crowd filling the gap.
“So, Solène with the spill-prone tendencies,” Desi finally broke the silence. “What brings you out here tonight?”
I sucked my teeth, pretending to be offended. “You’re not gonna let go of the spill-prone nickname, are you?”
“Nah.” He grinned, his dimple making another appearance. “It’s either that or I can call you Butterfingers.”
“Butterfingers?” I wrinkled my nose at the suggestion, playfully swatting his arm. “C’mon, now you’re just being mean.”
“Butterfingers, spill-prone Solène—” he started, but I cut him off with a playful glare, making him laugh even more. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop.” He raised his hands in surrender, still grinning from ear to ear.
“I think you can come up with a better nickname for me, or even better… just call me Sol.”
He chuckled, tapping his chin. “Sol like the sun? It works, considering that you’ve brightened my evening.”
I tilted my head. “Are you always this smooth, Desi?”
“Maybe.” He smirked, leaning in a little closer. His scent, a mixture of sandalwood, mint and something distinctly him enveloped me. “Only when I meet someone worth the effort.”
This man’s too charming.
I laughed. “Such a cornball.”
“A corn-ball that got you blushing and giggling,” he pointed out, which earned him another giggle. “So, back to my question, Spill-prone. What brings you here tonight?”
3 /DESIDERIO
Solène was…
Mierda, words can’t describe how fine this woman is.
Skin a gorgeous color of mahogany, I fell into a trance the minute I saw her walk in with that long dress that hugged all the right places. Don’t fault me for looking, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away.
New York was filled with beautiful Black women, so it wasn’t a surprise to stumble upon one every now and then. However, Solène was different, intriguing me to admire from afar and keep pushing.
I’m leaving soon anyways so might as well enjoy the view ‘till I can’t.
Exhausted from a long day at work, I wasn't interested in engaging in flirtatious—or any other types of interactions. My goal was to support my best friend's event, as I had made a promise to show up, greet a couple of people, and then take my Black ass home.
But once I watched her long terracotta curls sway as she headed to the bar by herself? Suddenly, the decision to leave felt premature. I found myself inching closer, wanting more.
Next thing you know?
I’m walking over, buying her a drink and striking up a conversation despite my heart racing a million miles a minute ‘cause everything about her was… whew.
“So, back to my question, Sol,” I said, my eyes dancing over her features for the hundredth time. “What brings you here tonight?”
Sipping on her mojito, her large brown eyes peered up at me, and I found myself getting lost in them.
“My friends brought me here.” Her eyes left mine, looking into the crowd of people dancing as if searching for someone, before they returned to me. “We just came from EverydayPPL, and Naomi told us about the invite she got for an event at Elsie. What about you?”
"Just here to support my friend's event before I head home.”
“Wait.” Her brows furrowed. “Your friend’s event… Is Tony—as in the host—your friend?”
