Page 23 of Aug
He rounded the island and pulled out a chair at the bar top.
“The table.”
He pushed the chair back up and lifted both hands in the air.
“Alright.”
“Rome won’t be leaving for another hour.”
“You asked?”
“I suggested,” I corrected him.
Nodding, pleasure appeared on his handsome face. His long limbs made a home on the L-shaped sofa that fit perfectly in the breakfast nook. In front of it was a round table with fresh flowers atop.
I plated August’s food and mine before heading to the table. In my attempt to return for the orange juice I’d freshly pressed the day prior, I was apprehended.
“Sit down.”
August pulled me down onto his lap. He slid me across his dick and into the empty space beside him as he rose. I watched him fetch our glasses, two bottles of water, silverware, and napkins.
“You sure you didn’t live here in your last lifetime?” I joked. “You sure know your way around.”
Shrugging, he responded, “Is that why I feel the things I’m feeling?”
“Because you were here last lifetime?”
“Because you were here with me,” he clarified.
Silently, I stared at him, wanting him to say more. Every time he opened his mouth, I hung onto the words coming from them. It was always of substance. Always of truth.
“Tell me your story.”
My appetite was irrational. I could hardly contain it, but food wasn’t the subject. August was. I wanted more. Ineededmore. I wanted to know who the man was who was after my heart because I was ready to let him have it.
Exhaling, he stuffed his mouth with a piece of syrupy french toast. Slowly, he chewed. It wasn’t until he’d washed it down with water that he began to speak.
“A Black man from the projects in Dooley. Channing-born. Single mother. Good mother. My entire universe. The reason I’m still alive today. She’s the only woman, aside from my grandmother and aunt, I’ve ever loved. Spent my entire lifeavoiding commitment. I lived a dangerous life. A careless life. Toting a gun wasn’t an option for me from the moment I held one in my palm. It was a necessity. Marksmanship for me is what ballet is for you. Word got around that I was for hire. Moved around a bit. Ended up in front of Balle’s people. Been discovering a new version of myself every day since.”
“That’s your entire story?”
“Nothing to me, baby. I’m simple. Not very interesting. Boring in almost every sense of the word.”
“It’s not boring and neither are you.”
I took a bite out of the turkey bacon.
“Your mother?”
“Still in Channing.”
His eyes softened at the thought of her.
“Asking for grandchildren every chance she gets.”
“No siblings?”
He shook his head.
