Page 52 of One Hotlanta Night
All the teal shirts seem to blend together in front of the bowling lanes as we approach, but I spot Michael immediately even from behind. His gorgeous dark hair is glistening, his strong muscles flex even under the two layers of t-shirts, and I’m pretty sure I could pick that fine ass out of a lineup from how often I’ve run my hands across it. His body looks so good, feels so incredibly good against mine, and all I can think of is that last night might’ve been the last time I get to feel it that close. I can’t get what Janice said out of my mind; I’m second-guessing myself and how this relationship will play out. I don’t know if I can even look Michael in the face right now.
As if he can feel my presence from yards away, Michael turns and his eyes lock on mine. A huge smile breaks across his face as he sets down the bowling ball, even though it’s his turn, and walks toward me. His face is so open, so trusting, and just sodamn beautiful, that my heart pangs. Is he still going to look at me like this once I tell him what I have to say? Right now his whole face is lit up like I hold the keys to the world, and I can’t bear to have that sunshine disappear from my life. I tear my gaze from his, trying to steel myself as I glance at the floor, trying to pick out my shoes from everyone else’s, in case this blows up and I need to call a cab.
“Mi amor, what’s wrong?” Michael asks, stopping in front of me and taking my hands. He kisses my wrists, then pulls my hands to his chest, to his heart. I gulp. His eyes darken. “What happened? Did somebody say something to you? Upset you?” He drops my hands to cup my face, framing it as his eyes flare, the concern in them building.
“No, nothing like that,” I tell him. “I just…” I falter. This man is quickly becoming the best, truest thing I’ve ever experienced, and it would kill me to have him walk away. But if we’re going to make this last, I can’t hold anything back. I have to be honest with him. “We should talk later.”
His eyes flash. “We’ll talk now.” That’s thelastthing I want.
“It can wait, really. We can stay for a while longer. I don’t mind,” I quickly say.
“Not happening,” he tells me, brusquely pulling me to his chest and squeezing me. His hug is so strong it’s almost painful, and I must whimper because he releases me immediately. “I’m sorry. I just… I thought someone hurt you and…” He hugs me again, not quite as tightly, but runs his hands up and down my back like he’s checking to make sure I’m not broken anywhere.
“I’m fine,” I say quietly.
“Somehow, I don’t think that’s the case,” he says, examining my face closely. “Come on.” He grabs my hand. Finding Adam amidst the throng, he does that weird bro handshake-hug thing, still gripping my hand tightly. “Thanks for having us.”
“You’re leaving already?” Adam asks.
“Yep, my lady’s been working hard all day so I’m taking her home for the night.” At this, Abigail’s head pops up out of nowhere like an annoying weed, and I wish I had a whacker handy. She narrows her eyes at me, then at Michael. She must’ve seen this whole exchange, and my cheeks heat from both shame and irrational jealousy. Heaven help me if he decides to get back with her after what I have to say. Something tells me he’s not the type to look back though.
“You guys just got here. Bowling not ‘interesting’ enough for you?” she sneers, her eyes flashing as she cocks a bony hip to the side. There’s more going on here, some sort of reference or insinuation that I really don’t care to discover.
“No comparison,” Michael fires right back, planting a firm kiss on me and sliding his hand into my back pocket as we walk off. I might sway my hips just a little bit more as we exit, in case anyone is watching. It’s petty, but I love that he didn’t feel the need to argue or prove anything to this jealous wench, just claimed me as if she was of no consequence.
I sure hope he still feels that way after our talk.
Michael
“Tell me what’s bothering you,” I say to Vivian once we’re inside my car. It’s cooled off enough that we don’t need to run the air conditioning, even with the windows up. Without the engine running, it’s as quiet as a library, only our breaths breaking the tense silence.
“It can wait til we get back,” she says, looking out the window and refusing to look at me.
“No, it can’t.” I grip her chin and make her face me. “We’re not going anywhere until we get this cleared up.” Her eyes look so open and lost and vulnerable. I’ve seen many expressions on her face but not this. She’s almost… resigned? “Talk to me, mi amor,” I say in a softer tone, my thumb caressing her chin. “Don’t shut me out.”
With a sigh, she glances at her hands in her lap, then back up at me. “So Janice and I were talking,” she starts, her voice low and quiet, but calm. I raise my eyebrows. Janice is like my kidsister, so I can’t imagine her saying anything bad to Vivian. “She had a lot of good things to say about you,” she quickly adds.
“Mmhmm…” I encourage her to keep going.
“And she said you have these really high standards. Which I’d already kinda figured out about you.”
Okay… So mystandardsare what’s bothering my woman? This is the strangest conversation I’ve ever had, and I’m struggling to see what has Vivian so upset.
“And, well, we… you and me… we never really talked about our pasts. Before we... you know…”
“What do you mean?” I ask, trying to figure her out. We’ve talked plenty about our childhoods, how we grew up, and the kind of support—or not—that we had. It was one of the ways I could relate to her, because we both knew what it meant to struggle; sometimes not knowing where your next meal was coming from or if the lights were gonna be shut off. Thank heavens neither of us are in that situation now, and that’s one thing I never take for granted. So where is she going with this?
Vivian blows out a breath so hard that her curls fly up in the air. “Okay, there’s no easy way to say this, but… we never talked about past relationships. About the partners we’ve had—”
“Stop right there.” I halt her words, pressing my finger to her mouth firmly. “This is what you’re so worked up about?”
She nods, eyes flashing angrily at me in protest, her fire rising to the surface. That fire I’ve fallen in love with.
“I don’t want to hearanythingabout any previous relationships.Zero.Do you hear me?”
She stares at me, unblinking, irritation giving way to confusion. I don’t like it. I want her—needher—to understand what I’m saying and smooth the frowns out of her pretty forehead. I frame her face with my hands, keeping her head still so she can’t look away. So that I can hold her this way, even this little bit, even if she’s keeping me at arm’s length. I can’tstand the idea of anything being in between us. No distance, not emotional or physical.
“Listen, do you want to hear about my sexual exploits? Details of women I’ve been with before?” I huff out. She pauses, then slowly shakes her head. “Then anyone before me—before us—doesn’t matter,” I tell her, my tone low but gentle as my thumb traces the outline of her jaw.
