Page 55 of Anything Necessary for Her
Our eyes latched onto one another’s, and I could tell by the way he licked his full lips that he’d picked up on what I was putting down.
“I like that.” He nodded. “So ain’t no nigga walking around saying he fucked Banks St. Thomas, huh?”
“If he is, he’s lying.” I brought my hand up to caress his beard. I’d begun to love doing that. “I think I’ve met a potential now though.”
He turned his head some to rest his lips against the palm of my hand, closing his eyes for a beat.
“I don’t know, Peep. When I thought you was already fucking, I contemplated, but I can’t be the first. Yo’ first gotta be a stand-up nigga. Real shit.”
“Like you?”
He smiled so cutely it made me want to kiss him, but I refrained, enjoying the subtle touches between us like his big hands that had yet to stop caressing my ass and hips, lovingly not lustfully.
“Nah. I’m not. You the only woman that sees this version of me, and it ain’t even all the way good.”
“So you’re saying you’re not shit?”
He laughed.
“In this type of situation . . . low-key.”
We chuckled in unison. Mine ceased as I drank him in for a moment, admiring his brown skin, full lips, sweet brown eyes that held a lot more worry and stress than any other twenty-six-year-old.
“If you weren’t shit, do you think my brother would’ve passed all his hard work onto you?” I cocked my head.
“That’s work though. I’m good at what I do when it come to that shit.”
“If you were a terrible person, my brother wouldn’t have given you anything and wouldn’t have been working with you. I know him.” I bobbed my head, and Low was speechless for the moment. “He passed this to you and not the many others he could have because he knows what type of man you are. He choseyou.
“I can like anyone, but I likeyou.” I kissed him slowly, hands still on both sides of his face. “And this is not the schoolgirl crush from some years ago. I don’t like niggas easily, Mr. Harris, as you can tell from the information I just gave you. A manhas to make a hell of an impression on me for me to feel some type of way about him and be wanting to fuck him. Trayvon is a college graduate, going to the MLB, very handsome.” I snickered when Low sucked his teeth at my last comment. “But he didn’t have what it took to pull me in. I see something in you. Sif saw something in you, and now it’s your turn.”
We pressed our foreheads together as he chewed on my words before he questioned, “You ever received some shit so perfect you don’t even wanna touch it? You think you gon’ mess it up, or you know you will and don’t want to?”
“Yes. Whenever Presley makes my birthday cakes,” I half joked, making him simper slightly.
“That’s you, Peep. You the one perfect and peaceful thing in my life, and I don’t wanna fuck it up. Same time, I don’t wanna let you go. I think if I did, I’d just be functioning, not living.”
“Then don’t let me go,” I suggested. “Enjoy me the way I’m enjoying you.”
“I like you.” He nodded.
“I like you too. You’re so smart, and you take good care of the people you love, even when they don’t deserve it,” I whispered. “And you fine as shit.”
We laughed in synchrony as he fell back, pulling me with him so that I landed atop his body.
“So you’ve never doneanything?” He frowned. “Not even head, both ways?”
“Nope.” I shook my head.
“You don’t even know what you fucking like then.”
Pressing my chin into his chest, I said, “I will figure it out along the way, but I wasn’t about to let a lame nigga smash just so I could learn what I liked.”
Grinning, he nodded and said, “Real shit.”
Few days later . . .
“Alright ladies, please understand that it was very difficult for Douglas and I to choose who deserved which parts. Also, understand that there will be more shows and more time for you to perfect your craft!” Carolyn announced over the ballet studio as she hugged the lists containing who’d been casted and for what in the Giselle show.
