Page 100 of Body Language
Must own crown, not borrow it(checkmark)
Must walk me like a dog when necessary(checkmark)
Must be willing to accept bad arts-and-crafts proposals(pending)
She stared at it for a solid thirty seconds before she looked at me. “You did not just…” Her voice cracked, but she was smiling.
“Hell yeah, I did,” I said, keeping it light. “Look, I know you don’t like cliche. I could’ve done roses or a dinner or one of those corny ‘will you be mine’ cakes. But that’s not you. This?” I gestured to the ridiculous display. “This is the most ‘you’ shit I could think of. A little crazy, a little bold, and way too much glitter for a man my size to be buying at the craft store without people asking questions.”
She laughed and I stepped closer.
“Niv, I get it now. Why you need clarity. Why you need a title before you let somebody in your space for real. And I’m telling you… I want to be that title. Not because I like you. Not because I want you. But because I love you.”
Her smile faltered in that way where you know the other person’s hearing something they’ve been waiting on without admitting it.
I pulled the crooked Monopoly card off the table and held it out. “So… Niveah Elise, will you be my girlfriend? My official girlfriend? On paper and in practice.”
She took it slow, walked over, plucked the card from my fingers, looked at it like it was something worth framing. Her eyes got glassy, and she blinked fast, like she wasn’t about to cry but also might.
“You really made a Barbie of me,” she whispered, shaking her head.
“Yeah,” I said, shrugging. “And I’m keeping it on the table so when people come over, I can say ‘That’s my girlfriend.’”
She laughed again, but this time it broke a little in the middle. She looked at me, serious. “Yes, Kendrix. And for the record… I love you too.”
I didn’t wait for her to overthink it. I just pulled her in, kissed her until her hand slid up the back of my neck and her body melted into mine.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I thought about how a crooked, glitter-covered table in my too-big house just became the most important piece of furniture I owned.
She stepped into my bedroom and stopped dead in the doorway, eyes locking on the sleek chrome pole in the center of the room. The overhead lighting caught it just right, making it gleam like I’d polished it for the occasion.
Her mouth fell open in a slow grin. “Kendrix… you did not put a damn pole in your bedroom.”
I leaned against the wall, arms folded. “I did. Just for you.”
Her eyes shifted back to the pole, then to me. “If I dance for you… you gone behave?”
I tilted my head toward the bed. “Not a chance. But I’ll sit still for now.”
She bit her lip, grabbed her phone, and hooked it to my house Bluetooth. A soft static click filled the air before that slow,honey-dripped intro ofLove Languageby SZA floated through the speakers.
I sat back on the bed, leaning against the headboard, watching her move like I had all the time in the world.
Her hand wrapped around the pole, slow, her hips rolling in perfect sync with the beat. She didn’t just dance. She told stories with her body, every sway and arch a sentence, every look she threw me a paragraph. That’s what got me from the start. Her body spoke louder than most people’s mouths, and I understood every damn word.
She let her fingers trail up the pole as she spun, that slow climb like she was measuring my patience. I knew exactly what she needed before she even did. I could tell by the flex of her shoulders, the way her breath hitched when she dipped low, the way her eyes held mine when she flipped upside down, thighs gripping chrome like it was an extension of herself.
Halfway through, I couldn’t help it.
