Chapter 5- Eshe
PAST
I wasn’t looking for trouble or love that day, but when Donte walked into that café looking like every bad decision I swore I was done making, my instinct screamed stay away —but I still signed up for heartbreak, because he also looked like my future.
My breath hitched before I even realized I’d stopped breathing.
Light brown with flecks of gold—his eyes were the first thing I noticed about him.
Not on some superficial colorism shit, only because they stood out against his dark, almost midnight-black skin.
He had flawless skin wrapped around a big, stocky frame, covered in a charcoal gray sweater and black slacks.
My eyes drifted to the Converse on his feet.
My kind of man. His feet looked to be a size thirteen. Definitely my type.
He watched me as I watched him. There was a cocky smirk on his God-like face.
Let me worship at your altar, I thought.
I slid my tongue across my teeth before giving him my best "come fuck me" grin.
He threw a wink my way, and I wanted to throw my wet panties his.
I shifted in my seat, thighs pressing together like that would stave off the ache he caused there.
“Eshe, you here with me, baby?”
Isaiah’s voice dragged my attention back to him like a rubber band snapped against skin.
He was leaning across the table, eyebrows pinched, his hand reaching for mine. I slid it out of reach.
Isiah called himself my boyfriend. I didn’t argue. But the truth was I’d never had an official boyfriend. Never really thought about having one. I’d been too busy with school and caring for my granny. To me, he was just the man I currently sucked and fucked.
“Yes, Isaiah,” I answered, trying to hide the annoyance in my voice.
I swiveled in my chair to face him. Isiah had dark skin, dark eyes, dark mood. That’s how I liked my men. You know the type—the ain’t-no-good, don’t-mean-you-no-good, but fuck-you-good type that women so foolishly believed they’d change. Well, that was Isaiah.
I was moving out of the bad boy phase of my life, though. I was starting to think about settling down. I wanted a husband and a baby. I was twenty two. I’d like to have a family by Thirty, and I definitely couldn’t see that happening with Isaiah. All he did these days was irk my nerves.
“So, you gonna do that for me?”
I had no idea what he was talking about. As soon as Mr. Tall, Dark, and Fine As Fuck wandered into my peripheral, I hadn’t paid Isaiah a bit of attention. But before I tuned him out, I remembered he’d been talking about moving our relationship in another direction.
Tuh. That was a no-go. I planned to text him as soon as I got home to tell him we had to call it quits.
Our situationship, though only six months old, had run its course.
I knew texting somebody that you don’t fuck with them anymore was terrible.
But I didn’t do well with confrontation.
I was a folder, and most people in my life knew that and used it to their advantage. So I texted people.
“I’m gonna be honest with you—I zoned out,” I said. I reached across the table, pulled his hands into mine, and pouted prettily so he wouldn’t trip and embarrass me in public. He had done it before..
He sucked his teeth. I hated when a man did that.
“After this, don’t make me repeat myself again, Eshe,” he tried to check me.
“Whatever.”
“I asked, do you think you could get your girl Sinica to have a threesome with us?”
My mouth fell open.
“Did you just ask me what I think you did?”
He grinned nervously. That confirmed it. This motherfucker had lost his entire mind.
“It would show me that you’re ready to move forward to the next level of our relationship. We’re about to graduate. Don’t you want to prove to me that you’re wifey material?”
“Fuck you!” I yelled louder than I meant to, and I swear I could hear every head in the café turn in our direction.
My face heated. I wasn’t shy, but I hated too many eyes on me at once.
Isaiah kept talking, but I couldn’t hear him. The sound of my blood rushing in my ears drowned him out. I stood, knocking over my chair. He was a joke. He grabbed my arm when I tried to leave.
“Don’t do that, Eshe. I told you before about walking away from me when I’m talking to you.”
“Fuck you,” I hissed again between clenched teeth, simply because I couldn’t formulate the words to cuss him out properly—not with everyone watching us. I snatched my arm out of his grip and stormed out of the café.
I needed a joint and a glass of sangria.
I was lucky I only lived a few blocks away, because Isaiah had driven.
It was about to be dark, and I didn’t live in the best neighborhood.
I cursed under my breath with each step I took, walking in the direction of my granny’s house.
And with each step, I realized I wasn’t even that mad.
I didn’t even like him anymore. Like most men, he liked Sinica.
That was expected. She was that universally gorgeous, trophy-wife type men dreamed of having at their side.
This wasn’t the first time I’d dealt with a man who started having dreams of fucking a bad bitch once they met her.
I didn’t even take it as a slight. The same had happened to her involving me.
Men seemed to like to play in other people’s yards.
Sinica was a pretty girl with a nice body, but she was vapid at times.
A couple of her boyfriends during freshman and sophomore year had called themselves liking me, because I was cute with a nice personality.
So now we just kind of kept our love lives separate.
No double dates. No introductions unless it was serious and he could be trusted.
“That was fucked up, what happened back there.”
I nearly jumped out of my shoes, startled by a voice behind me. I was usually better at paying attention to my surroundings. I spun around, mace in hand, ready to spray whoever had crept up on me.
It was the guy from the café.
I lowered my hand and tilted my head, glaring up at him.
“You scared the hell out of me.” I reached out and shoved his shoulder.
“Already with the love taps?” he joked.
“What can I do for you, Mr...?” I paused, waiting for his name.
He licked his luscious brown lips and ran his eyes from the top of my head to the bottom of my feet, pausing at a few of my more visually appealing spots.
I was grateful I hadn’t left the house looking a mess.
I wore a denim mini skirt and a button-up denim shirt.
My thick but firm thighs were on display, along with a healthy amount of cleavage.
I still fought the urge to squirm under his gaze.
“Donte. My name’s Donte.”
“Nice to meet you, Donte. Would you like for me to turn around so you can get as good a look at the back as you did the front?”
A smile parted his lips. Almost instantly, the situation with Isaiah was forgotten. Though I was a little embarrassed this man had witnessed what happened, I played it cool as the sexual energy between us heated the already stifling night air.
“No, I’m good. I got an eyeful when I followed you out.” He combed his fingers through his beard and grinned.
“Oh, really?” I cocked my head to the side. “You aren’t even going to pretend to be ashamed about it, either?”
He shook his head. “None at all.”
“What’s your name, pretty?”
“I’m Eshe,” I said.
“That means Life.”
“Impressed. How do you know that?”
“I’m cultured. A nigga read.”
I laughed and rolled my eyes.
We stood there for a second, eye-fucking each other. He was the first to speak after the beat of silence.
“Why’d your momma name you Life?”
I had been waiting for this moment. My Poetic Justice meet cute.
“She said when she found out she was pregnant with me, it changed her life. At least that’s what my granny told me. I don’t know why, because I haven’t seen her since I was three.”
I wasn’t exactly sure why I was telling him all my business. Maybe because nobody had ever cared to ask before. But then, nobody ever knew my name had meaning before.
“Sorry to hear that. I don’t know what I’d do without my momma.”
“It’s okay. I got my granny,” I said, then changed the subject. I didn’t really like talking about my mom. I’d dealt with feelings of abandonment as a child, and I wasn’t quite sure I was over them. “So you a momma’s boy? They say the best type of man to find is one who loves his momma.”
“Are you looking for a man, Life?”
“Not necessarily. I’m open, though.” I smiled up at him, raised a perfectly arched eyebrow—hoping he took the hint. I wouldn’t mind calling him my man at all, which surprised me, but I didn’t think much of it since I was being really superficial at the moment.
He reached out and toyed with one of my locs. His touch resonated all the way down to my core, causing my pussy to quiver.
“You should give me your number.”
You’re damn right I’mma give you my number—along with whatever else you ask me for, I thought.
Without hesitation, I held out my hand and asked for his phone. Without hesitation, he handed it to me. Didn’t even have to put in a code or anything—which meant he probably didn’t have a girl or a bunch of hoes.
“You need a ride?” he offered when I handed it back.
“No, I live right up the block.”
He was fine and all, but getting in a car with some random negro was a no-no. Letting him know where I stayed? A fuck no.
“All right, Life.”
I kind of liked my new nickname on his lips.
“I’mma call you,” he said before giving me another panty-wetting smile and turning to walk away.
I watched him until he turned the corner.
Isaiah who?