Page 2 of Only for the Week
“I told you Chris was really into food play. If you didn’t want to see him licking honey off every crevice of my body you should’ve called first.”
She sticks her finger in her mouth and pretends to gag. “What is the point of calling first when I have a key?”
“Ask them supposedly burned retinas of yours.”
She laughs around her sip of water. “That’s okay, I like my method of announcing my presence, it gives you the chance to put all the condiments away before I step fully inside.”
“First the fuck of all, I’m not even with Honey Boy anymore so stop it. Second of all, is honey even technically a condiment?”
“It’s too early for trivia, Nelly.”
My nose wrinkles as I look at the clock on my oven. “It’s ten a.m.”
“Too early.” She waves me off. “Get your shit so we’re not late for our flight to the wedding of the century.”
I chuckle at the tight smile on Evie’s face because I know she wants this wedding to be over as much as I do.
I love my sister, I truly do. But our relationship has been strained to put it lightly and her being a bridezilla while planning her wedding hasn’t helped. I’m her maid of honor while Evie and Dani are bridesmaids and she’s been relentless with her demands.
What’s the difference between eggshell white and raindrop white? I unfortunately know now. Even getting her to settle on the location of the wedding was a headache. She knew she wanted a destination wedding, but she couldn’t decide where. Arnold was no help, so Evie and I had to take charge and decide for her. Did we pick Tulum because we wanted to go there? Yes. But we also knew both she and Arnold would love it once they came out of their weird wedding tyrant haze.
When Amerie suggested the wedding party go to Tulum the week before the wedding festivities to just relax, I was excited. After dealing with the Prima Donna for months on end, we’ve all earned time to decompress before all fifty of Amerie and Arnold’s guests descend upon us.
We pull up to the airport a little bit before eleven a.m. Evie has a love/hate relationship with time. Time loves her but she shows it no respect. She’ll probably be late to her own funeral, but one thing she does not play about is flights. Despite being a bona fide jet-setter, she’s deathly afraid of flying so she always gets to the airport two hours early in order to get her mind right and prepare to pop a Xanax.
Arnold’s groomsmen, Micah and Christian, show up not too long after us. Micah stands at about six-foot-seven with rich dark brown skin, shoulder length locs, and a chiseled jawline. Normally, his style is more artsy so it surprises me to see him in a black sweatsuit right now, but damn does he look good in it. It angers me a little bit that I met and started dating Arnold before meeting the fine ass men he surrounds himself with; sure, Arnold’s fine too, but physical attraction without compatibility never goes far.
Christian is the definition of a pretty boy, and he leans into it. He has deep sepia skin, light brown eyes, and his hair and facial hair are never out of place. Even his eyebrows are styled to perfection. He’s about six-foot-two but his confidence is that of a seven-foot-tall giant. Where Micah is sexy but he stays under the radar, Christian advertises that he knows he looks good. The man has never met a pair of gray sweatpants he didn’t like and today is no different.
Micah pushes his locs off his face as he walks over and bends to give Evie and I a kiss on the cheek. “Ladies, how you doing?”
“Great, Micah. How are you? Still fine as fuck, I see.” Evie makes no attempt to hide her head-to-toe perusal of Micah. He smirks at her assessment, but doesn’t return the perusal.
Christian clears his throat before bending down to give me a kiss on the cheek then standing to face Evie. “Evelyn,” he offers.
“Christian,” she shoots back.
“Still saying whatever the fuck pops into your head, huh?”
“Sure am. Still trying to stick your community dick in every pussy you see, huh?”
He chuckles while rubbing his hand across his jaw. “You’re still mad about that? This is starting to sound less like women solidarity and more like jealousy.”
“The only thing I’m jealous of is your ability to become an even bigger asshole the more you talk. You know you were foul to fuck my nail tech while dating my waxer. And what’s worse is they both banned me from their shops just because of my association with you. Had me walking around looking like a wildebeest for weeks.”
Micah’s eyes bounce back and forth between the two, curiously.
Christian takes the seat next to Evie. His voice drops to a sensual timbre when he says, “Well, your nails look fine to me. I’d be happy to inspect your wax job too, if you want.”
Evie adjusts her position in her chair and for a moment I think I’m going to have to slap her for being affected by those fuckboy words but then she turns to face Christian head on, pressing her freshly done pink ombré coffin-style nails into his forearm. “Christian, I say this with all sincerity, I would rather have my pussy waxed with sandpaper, than ever let you near it.”
His eyes blaze with a fire so intense it threatens to suck all the air out of the terminal.
“Y’all done with your foreplay? I’m hungry,” Micah asks.
“Not foreplay, just giving your boy the dose of humility he’s sorely missing in his life. But yes, I’m done. Can you grab me something while you’re gone, Micah?” She bats her eyelashes at him.
Micah gets her order and I tack mine on too before he and Christian leave without another word.
