Page 137 of Invisible Bars
Imanio was shirtless, glistening in sweat like he’d just boxed a demon or bench-pressed a Range Rover for fun.
My brain short-circuited trying to figure outwhathe’d been doing that left him looking that fine and that unfair.
“You good?” he asked, interrupting my lewd thoughts, his voice low and calm like every piece of himwasn’tcarved to perfection.
I nodded, but my mouth clearly had other plans.
“Y-Yes! S-S-Sweaty Samson, split my soul, please!”
His brows furrowed; mine damn near vanished into my scalp.
Why? Why did I say that?
My face burned.
I gripped the apple tighter like it was a stress ball sent from God.
“Focus, Naji,” Imanio said with that same amused smirk, like he’d caught my brain trying to jump ship. “And we’ll talk about this nigga Samson later.”
I cleared my throat and mentally slapped myself, then forced my eyes upward—to the ceiling, the light fixture, the heavens, anything but his damn abs—or his arms—or the one little drop of sweat trailing down his chest like it had a destination.
Imanio’s attention shifted to the guy at the door.
“Pops… I didn’t know you were coming over.”
“Well, I told you once I got back from my trip that I’d stop by. Maybe I should’ve called.”
“W-W-We’re married!” I blurted by accident.
Silence.
I slapped a hand over my mouth, eyes wide, but the tic had already done its damage. My heart slammed in my chest like it was trying to run from the moment.
“S-sorry,” I mumbled behind my fingers.
Imanio’s father slowly looked between us, one brow raised high.
“Married?”
Imanio exhaled through his nose, rubbing his jaw like he wasn’t angry but was still a bit annoyed that the truth had come out likethat.
“Pops, this is my wife, Naji.”
Imanio’s father stared at him, then at me, then back at him.
“Well,” his father shook his head, clearly intrigued now. “This just got interesting.”
“Yeah,” Imanio replied calmly. “It’s a long story.”
“Well, good thing I have time today. Let’s go talk in private, son.”
“Aight. Give me a minute.”
“I’m… I’m sorry,” I apologized to Imanio after his father was out of earshot.
“Naji, stop apologizing. It’s cool. I know you can’t help it… unless you faking.”
It was clear Imanio wasn’t letting up about me faking that one tic, his eyes holding me like he was still measuring the truth.
