Page 51 of Anything Necessary for Her
Free and I fell out in laughter as Wyatt shook his head in irritation, stomping to his bedroom.
“Aye, if you don’t get with Banks, nigga, I will. I need that type of spiciness in my life. I know she a freak.”
“Go ahead and get smoked, nigga, and I ain’t talking about her brothers being the one to do it.”
Sittingdown in the guest bedroom with laminate flooring, I blew out a breath of frustration.
I’d been working on the grand jeté, a very important move that was required in the solo for the upcoming performance of Giselle. The few times I’d done it didn’t feel or look right at all, making me take a break and try to ponder deeply on what the hell I was doing wrong. I then began to wonder if Nikita was doing it right. If I lost the solo to her ass, I would never hear the end of it.
Just as I began to think self-deprecating and murderous thoughts, my phone rang. Leaning over some to peer at the screen, I didn’t miss the backflips, leaps, and grand jetés my stomach did upon seeing Low’s name there.
Scooping my phone up and in need of a distraction, I answered.
“Wow, I didn’t expect this.” I lay back on my mat, simpering.
“I know. I was thinking about you and figured the only way to cure that was to reach out.”
“I see.” I inwardly squealed before calming my ass down. As hot and cold as Low could be, I needed to relax. I hated that I understood his plights and hesitation though. Low-key, it was endearing how careful he wanted to be with me.
“You told my baby bro you would shoot him?”
I froze, opening and closing my mouth before replying, “I did. He came in the diner talking shit like he was running things, and I had to keep him in line.”
“I’m not mad. I actually found the shit hilarious, and I should let you know it worked. I offered to get the nigga a day off, and he told me no.”
We chuckled in unison.
“Well good. He doesn’t need a day off because idle hands are the devil’s workshop, and that’s especially so when it comes to Wyatt. He wants to sell drugs because he is bored. But he won’t even think about that shit if he is dog tired from working and school.”
“You right.” He got quiet. “You wise as hell, Peep.”
“Thank you.”
“I forget you twenty-two. I wasn’t on even half the shit you were at that age.”
“Women will always be light-years ahead, my love.” He snickered cutely before I asked, “What are you doing?”
“Just got back to the crib, showered, brushed my teeth, and shit, now I’m chilling. You?”
“Doing a little dance work. Wanna keep me company?” I offered, and when he was silent for too long, I said, “As a friend, relax. I’m not gonna force you on the bed, pull your dick out, and suck it, Low.”
“Shit, why not?” he retorted, sending us both into a fit of cackles. I wasn’t expecting that reply. “But aight. I can’t lie, a nigga miss you.”
“I know. See you soon.” I hung up.
I got back to practicing, and about fifteen minutes into it, I got a notification that Low had arrived. Rising from the mat I’d been breathing heavily on, I padded out of the guest room I’d turned into a makeshift ballet studio and made my way to my front door.
“How are you always fucking pretty?” Low took me in, shaking his head at my tiny gym shorts, bra, and socks.
“Get it from my mama,” I jested.
“Oh, I know.” He nodded, eyes raking across my living room as his hands sank into the pockets of his joggers.
He was wearing a wife beater, socks, and corduroy slippers. An icy watch and subtle gold chain complemented the look. Low was so sexy to me, and he didn’t even try. His cologne peppered the air as he trailed me back to my ballet room, scouring it as he’d done the living room moments ago.
“I just need like twenty more minutes of practice, and then we can kick it. Do you mind?” I stood, hands fisted on my hips.
“I don’t.” He descended onto the shiny floor, back against the wall as he pulled one of his knees up to allow one arm to dangle over.
