ELEVEN
Respect for my homie rises even higher as I enter the packed gallery. Preston did his thing with immaculate black-and-white photography.
“Hey, man.” He makes his way over from a group. “Thanks for coming.”
“Everything looks dope.” I give him the bro hug. “Good work. Your skills blow my mind every time.”
“Ay, don’t bring out my thug tears,” he jokes.
“Shoot,” I chuckle. “For real, though. Nicely done.”
“Pres!” Cairo approaches and daps him. “I’m impressed, bro. Who did you jack these from?”
“Here you go.” Preston shoves him a little.
“Nah, you know I’m playing. Proud of you, homie.”
“Appreciate it. Thanks for the support.”
“Great turnout, too,” Cairo marvels before sipping his drink.
Preston looks around while bobbing. “Yeah, I’m feeling pretty full.” They start talking about his creative process, and while I’m trying to listen, flashes of Davia keep distracting me. Her smile, the spark in her eyes, her sensational scent. Her voice. The way she trembled at my touch.
“Yo?”
I blink back to the present, noticing my friends staring at me with crumpled brows.
Cairo slaps my arm. “You crashing out, man?”
“Um…” I rub the back of my neck, admitting, “I can’t stop thinking about Davia.”
“Right,” Preston drones. “What was that on the rooftop last night?”
“Rooftop?” Cairo repeats, passing a confused look between us. “What happened?”
“We were getting air,” I explain. “Just talking. Then I held Davia’s hand. Now she’s in my head non-stop.”
“Iree says she has a man,” Cairo reminds me.
“Yeah, I know.” I run my palm over my face and groan in frustration. “Fucking know.”
“And?” Preston scoffs, drinking his bourbon.
Cairo throws him a stern look. “We respect relationships.” He steers back to me. “Right?”
I twist my mouth and hum.
“That spark I saw between y’all doesn’t care,” Preston chuckles.
“Don’t start any bullshit,” Cairo warns me after lightly punching his arm. “Stay as friends.”
“Pres, baby!” Moya struts over excitedly, leans into his side, and tips for a smooch. “Oh my gosh! Everything looks amazing. You’re so talented.”
“Aw, thanks, babe,” Preston beams in return.
I share a look with Cairo. It seems we’re both surprised to see Moya is still around.
She flicks her twinkling eyes from him to acknowledge us. “Sup, guys?”
“Sup?” we reply in sync, bobbing.
Turning to Preston, she implores, “Babe, tell me about your inspiration behind all the photos.”
His grin grows wider. “Sure. First of all, I love black-and-white imagery.” He goes on and on as they wander off.
“Didn’t think I’d see her with him again after opening night,” Cairo remarks, watching them.
“Yeah, I’m surprised. Maybe Pres likes…” My voice falls as I glimpse Davia in the window, walking past the gallery. “Be right back.” I dash outside and call out, “Davi.”
She staggers to a stop and looks back sideways, eyes fluttering. “Kross.”
“How’s it going?” I ask, feeling a surge.
“I’m heading home.” She pivots and continues to her car.
“Hold on.” I close the distance. “I’m here for Preston’s photography display. Want to look around? His work is pretty cool.”
She wobbles her head, not meeting my gaze. “I’m sure it is, but I’ve had a long day. I’m tired.”
“Hi, Kross!” I slant, confused by the unfamiliar woman beaming at me. “See you inside.” She continues into the gallery.
Shrugging it off, I refocus on Davia. “So I’ll see you when I see you then.”
“Actually.” She moves from her car. “I’ll check out your friend’s work.”
“Thought you were too tired?”
Her curls sway as she shakes her head. “It’s fine. I like supporting my people.” She steps past me and enters the gallery.
Wait, is that jealousy? It proves she’s feeling me, and I’m not sure I can ignore it now that I’m confident our attraction is mutual.
Davia exchanges a few words with Preston before viewing the photos. I ignore his sly grin and follow her.
“Wow,” she murmurs. “This is great. Preston only shoots black and white?”
“Mostly, but he accommodates clients.” I pause beside her at a shot of Inner Harbor. “You want me to grab a drink for you?”
“No, I had wine with Trishell.” She lowers her gaze to the floor, gnawing at her bottom lip while messing with her jacket.
“So last night on the rooftop,” I start, gauging her.
She touches her neck. “We shouldn’t have gone up there. We were alone. It wasn’t…”
“Long enough.” I edge closer, shamelessly inhaling her exquisite fragrance. “Damn, you smell fucking good.”
“Stop,” leaves her in a nervous whisper. “You said you respect boundaries. That we’re friends.”
“True, but what happened when I touched your hand makes me want to reconsider.”
Ever so slowly, her eyes lift to meet mine, and our surroundings fade, leaving a cocoon of intensity that I never want to break.
“Preston’s work is incredible!” Davia flicks away as that woman struts by, brushing my arm.
“Excuse me?” I side-eye the nuisance.
“Oh, my bad.” She scurries off awkwardly, pausing to talk with another chick.
“An acquaintance?” Davia checks.
“I don’t know her,” I answer fast. “She’s probably been to the club.”
“So you have groupies.” Her pursed lips and even tone give away her jealousy.
“None that I’m aware of, trust me.” Smirking, I slip my hands into my jacket pockets. “If you don’t want me talking to other chicks, you can say that.”
She jerks her head back. “Kross, I have a man. I don’t care who you talk to. That’s your business.”
“You sure, baby girl?” I tease. “You immediately decided to stay after that woman called out to me.”
Her eyes flutter until she shifts away and hugs herself. “I wanted to see Preston’s work.”
“Mmhm.” I snort. “Now that you have, you want to sit and talk?”
She twists back to me, lips slightly parted. I want to taste them so badly. “I should head home. I’m tired.”
“Or maybe I’m just making you nervous. Scared you might do something the longer we’re together?”
The unsteady breath that follows convinces me that’s indeed what she fears. “As I’ve said, I’m tired.”
“Can I have your number?”
“Goodbye, Kross.” Davia quickens past me, waving to Preston before hurrying out of the gallery.
Damn. I pray this isn’t the last time I see her.