Chapter 5
CHAPTER 5
brEAK
Omar
I scowl at my reflection in the mirrored glass window of the waiting room at the Accident and Emergency. I’m waiting for Jules.
A text from Reena pops up on my phone.
“ I’m so sorry I didn’t respond sooner. My phone died. I’m home. Tell me where you are and I’ll come over and see her home.”
“ It’s fine. I’ll wait with her and see her home,” I text back.
My phone rings a second later with Reena calling on a video call.
“Hey.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “You’ll do what ?”
I furrow my brow in confusion. “I said I’ll take her home.”
She cocks her head to the side as if she thought I’d just told a boldfaced lie. “What were you two doing outside on the balcony?”
“I was on the phone with my sister…her I have no clue.” Even though after the way I behaved at the bar, I’d put money on her coming to tell me to fuck off.
“Omar, she’s one of my best friends, and she’s nice as hell.”
I return her disapproving smile. “All I did was offer to take her home from the hospital after I broke her nose. I know I play one on TV, but you know I’m not really an asshole.”
“You’re not a bleeding heart either,” she snaps and then crosses her arms and raises her eyebrow. “I know you. If you’re still there and offering to take her home, you like her. And if you like her, you know her.” She taps her fingers together as if she’s wracking her brain.
“Why are you so pushy?”
“Just tell me, and I wouldn’t have to be.”
“Fine. She works at my local, but we’ve never spoken before tonight. And I have a small crush on her.”
She punches the air in victory. “My ship-dar is never wrong.”
“Ship-dar? What the hell is that?”
“My radar on people I think would be good together.”
“You’re getting ahead of yourself.”
“I talked about you,” she says and bites her lip. “She’s very private. But sweet.”
“So am I.”
“No, you’re a walking scaffold of heartbreak.”
I scoff. “Thanks, friend.”
“Although, if you weren’t, and if you were a little bit younger, this could be something.” She presses her hands together excitedly and then frowns. “But she’s not a fuck it and forget it girl, Omar.”
“I’ve never thought of anyone like that. And I’ve never had any complaints.” Not that I’ve stuck around long enough to hear them.
“Omar, I’m serious. She’s a virgin.” She slaps a hand over her mouth and winces.
I’m speechless. How in the world has a woman that sexy never had sex?
If she’s a virgin at this age, she’s either saving it for marriage or one of those “born again” innocents—and those are both red flags. It makes blowing the chance she dropped into my lap much easier to stomach.
“I shouldn’t have said that,” Reena says after a few seconds.
“No. I’m glad you did.” Very.
She narrows her eyes, and her frown grows stern. “You better not hurt her, Omar. She’s not as tough as she acts. Tread carefully.”
The first time I saw Jules, she was having a heated, but good-natured, argument with a group of men who were congregated at the bar where she was serving drinks. Even in the poorly lit pub, her deep brown skin glowed like it was filtered through pearlescent light.
Her husky and unbridled laugh drew and held my attention the way a glass of whiskey perched on a round ass used to.
Long wisps of hair dark chaotic curls escaped from the huge bun at the top of her head. They danced around her oval face and brushed the nape of her long, slender neck as she gestured with her hands.
But it was her smile, bright and warm as the noonday sun, that made me nearly swallow my tongue and walk into a wall.
I asked the owner of the bar, Dominic, about her as casually and randomly as I could. She was a law student, had worked at The Effra for five years. She was from somewhere in the Midlands and wasn’t a football fan at all.
Beautiful, hard-working, and didn’t seem to know who I was? She was a unicorn.
I came in every day for two weeks until I figured out her schedule and then made sure I was there every time she was working. It was full-on creepy, but that smile made me forget it was raining outside.
But my head was still all over the place after the fallout with my family. I wasn’t really in the mood for company, and the smile she gave me when I walked in, she’d never indicated any interest in me at all.
And I know unicorns don’t exist. I was good enjoying my fantasy from a safe distance. But after months of watching everyone else bask in the rays of her sunshine, it was getting harder to stay in the shade. And I’d started to reconsider my position.
I noticed her as I approached the bar. I admired her shapely legs, the curve of her hip, and the promise of a spectacular ass spilling over both sides of the bar stool.
But as nice as it all looked, it wasn’t enough to compel me to take a closer look when I sat down next to her.
Because I had no clue it was her. Her hair is different–it’s straight, and the loose, blunt ends of it skim her shoulders. The body-hugging red dress she’s wearing reveals a curvy figure that the loose-fitting black T-shirt she wears at work concealed. But there is no mistaking that smile—and it is even more riveting up close.
I was just starting to reconcile this sex pot with the cute bartender I’d been crushing on for months when she asked me to dance. My brain short-circuited. When Layel’s text came, I bolted and figured I’d never be able to show my face in The Effra during one of her shifts again.
We’re halfway home when she moans. It’s a low, dry noise that’s barely loud enough to be heard over the road noise from my tires and the incessant rain drumming on the roof of my car.
I was relieved when she fell asleep as soon as the nurse and I settled her in the passenger’s seat.
If she hadn’t been coming outside to tell me to fuck off, she most certainly will now that I’ve broken her nose.
“Ouch,” she groans and reaches up to turn on the overhead light and pulls down the mirror in front of her. She leans in and turns her face from side to side. The bruises under her eyes are a deeper purple than they were when we left the hospital, and the dressing on her nose makes it look like a beak.
I stop at a red light and glance at her. She’s still staring at her face and hasn’t said a word.
“Jules?”
She turns her head to look at me, and then she blinks. “Hi, Break.” She tries to smile, but then winces. “Oh”—and touches her nose—“I thought it was a dream.”
The doctor warned me she’d be loopy, but clearly she’s totally out of it. And I don’t know who Break is, but I hate him already.
“You should sleep, we’ll be at your place soon.” The light starts to flash yellow, and I pull away, relieved to be able to turn my eyes toward the road and away from hers.
“You’re taking me home?” Her voice is rough and low, but her surprise is unmistakable.
“Of course.” My throat is dry, and I sip from a water bottle in my cupholder. Then I hold it out to her. “Are you thirsty?”
She sits up a little. “Oh God. Where’s Reena? Did I ruin her party?”
“No. It was still going strong when we left. I told her I’d take you home.”
“Did you eat her ass?”
I bark out a surprised laugh that turns into a cough. She watches me expectantly, and I know it’s the meds talking, so I humor her. “I can’t say I’ve ever had the occasion to do that, no.”
“Oh good.” She sounds genuinely relieved and slouches in her seat a little. “No offense to Reena. I’m sure her ass is as clean as anyone’s could be. But I don’t think I’d ever be able to kiss you if you had.”
I stifle my laugh. “Well, then I’m very thankful I didn’t.”
She blows a raspberry with her lips and waves a hand in dismissal. “You don’t want to kiss me. You don’t even like me.”
I sputter a laugh. “Of course I like you. How could I not?”
“That’s what I’ve been wondering.” She sits up again. “I’m wonderful . And I always smile at you.”
If she didn’t sound so put-out, I would laugh again. “You smile at everyone .”
“Not the way I smile at you .” She sings the last word. “ That smile is all yours. But you never smile back. And you never come to the bar.”
The car in front of me brakes suddenly, and I slam on my brakes to keep from rear-ending him.
She groans, and my daydream is shattered. “Shit, I’m so sorry.” I’ve already broken her nose. If I harm one more hair on her head, I’ll save Reena the trouble and kick my own ass.
When I stop at the next red light, she’s prodding her forehead with the pads of her long, slim fingers. Her fingernails are painted in an alternating pattern of silver, white, and gold. The ring on the third finger of her right hand is in the shape of a tiny crown with a small diamond in the center of it.
“The crown jewel?”
“What?” Her head whips up, and her bruised eyes are wide with what looks less like pain and more like panic. My heart slams against my ribs at the amber-flecked molasses-colored irises that I have a feeling I’ll be seeing every time I close my eyes from now on. God, they’re beautiful.
Trying to be casual, I relax in my seat, pick up my coffee cup, and lift it to my lips. “Your…” To my horror, I croak and feign a cough, then take a sip of my coffee before I finish my sentence. “Your ring, it’s a crown with a jewel in it.”
“Oh,” she says and closes her eyes, relaxing in her seat again. “Yeah, that’s right.”
“Are you okay? Does your head hurt?”
She sighs in deep discontent and pouts, her bare lips compressing into a pout that’s nearly as disarming as the smile it replaces. “Not as much as my pride, but yeah.”
“Your pride?”
“I asked you to dance. And you said no.”
I grimace. “I’m sorry. I don’t dance. Ever.” But. I would have done anything else you asked.
She looks at me knowingly. “You’d think I would have learned my lesson. I was coming out to get some air. I saw you sitting there, looking so angry. I thought…this was my chance.”
“To have your nose broken and end up in A&E?”
Her sudden laugh appears, and then she winces again.
“Shit, here, I forgot.” I reach into the back seat and pull out a small white bag that they gave me on discharge. “There’s a gel ice pack in there. It’s probably melted a little, but the cold will help.”
“Thank you.” She pulls it out and lays it across her forehead and settles in her seat with a sigh. “So what happened to make you look like that? So sad?”
“I thought you said I looked angry.” I inject teasing humor in my voice to defuse the way her question makes my heart skip a beat.
“I saw both, but mostly sadness.”
My heart skips another beat.
My body, my fame, the car I drive, the company I keep—tell a very particular story of who I am. I’ve cultivated a public persona that says I’m strong, controlled, decisive, unapologetic, successful. But there is a cost that comes with allowing people to believe that it’s all there is to me. I live with the consequences of it—isolation, insecurity, imposter syndrome, and deep skepticism. And I never let anyone see me sweat.
So how can she see what I’ve only acknowledged to myself? The light turns green, and I’m grateful for a reason to turn back to face the road.
“Maybe I’m just projecting because that’s how I imagine I look when I think about my dad. I miss him every day. But I’m so mad at him for dying and leaving me alone, too.”
Maybe it’s because she saw the sadness I didn’t think anyone else could. Or maybe it’s because we’re alone. Whatever the reason, I feel able to speak aloud words I’ve only recently found the courage to acknowledge.
“My mother died three months ago. It was sudden. And there is so much I wish I’d had the chance to say to her.”
She doesn’t say anything, but she puts a hand on my arm and squeezes it as if to let me know she’s only quiet because she’s listening. I blow out the breath I was holding. “And I hate this friction between my father and me. Everything else can be grand, but if we’re not, nothing feels right.”
She doesn’t say anything, and I could kick myself. I’ve put her through enough already. I don’t want to add triggering painful memories to my list of transgressions.
“I didn’t mean to dump on you like that. You should relax.”
She draws away and back into her seat. “You didn’t dump on me. I know what it’s like to feel that way.”
“I can’t even imagine that. You’re Miss Walking on Sunshine.”
Her eyes flash with something that disappears before I can decipher it. “Don’t let the filter fool you. I’m as human as anyone else.” She closes the mirror, and the car falls into darkness again.
We ride in a companionable silence, and I’m lost in my thoughts until we pass the neon-lit Tube sign of Brixton Station. We’re close to her house, but I’m nowhere near ready to say goodnight. I could talk to her all night.
“I’ve imagined what it would be like to have a conversation with you so many times.”
My heart thuds in my chest. “With me? Really?”
She laughs at the slack-jawed surprise in my voice. “ Yes. With you. I have so many questions to ask you.”
“You do? Like what?”
“What do you miss most about your life in America?”
I’m so surprised by the question that I forget whatever I’m about to say and pause to think about that. When I left, I couldn’t wait for the change in scenery and haven’t really looked back. “I miss the sun. Being close to the ocean. My family. Even though they get on my fucking nerves, think money grows on trees, and only call me when they need something.”
She leans back in her seat, her eyes lose their humor, and she bites her lower lip. “Do you have a big family?”
“My older sister Layel, her daughter Hannah, and her son Ethan. My dad has five siblings, so I have a slew of aunts and uncles and cousins. It’s someone’s birthday every damn week.”
“And your parents are from Tonga?”
I smile, impressed and flattered that she knows that. It’s one of the least mentioned aspects of my background. “Yeah, my dad is a native, but my mother’s parents were Australian transplants whose roots wind themselves all the way back to this very city.”
“Wow, it’s so cool that you can trace your roots so precisely.”
“What about you?”
She squints at me with a teasing smile on her lips. “If you had to guess where I’m from, what would you say?”
I frown and scrunch my nose as if I’ve never pondered that question before. “Well…” I draw out the word and give her an exaggerated head-to-toe assessment. “I’d say I had a friend from Ethiopia in high school, and you could be her sister. And when you wear your hair straight like this tonight, you look like a young Iman.”
She laughs. “A young Iman who’s too short and thick for sample sizes, but I’ll accept that. My dad was from Ghana. My mom was American, according to him. But I don’t know anything else about her.”
“They split up?”
“No, she died giving birth to me.” She swallows audibly. She’s lost both of her parents. And here I am ignoring my father.
A crack of thunder rattles the glass-paned windows of the car, and she breaks eye contact. “God, it’s about to pour. And I’ve got an early morning. Thank you for bringing me home.”
She leans down and grabs her green and red Puma trainers off the floorboard. She rests her heel on the seat. Her toenails are painted bright red and as pretty as everything else about her.
She looks up, and I can’t look away fast enough this time. Or maybe it’s that I don’t have to now that we’re completely alone, and I know she has a thing for me, too.
Her amber eyes trap me as if they were sap and I the proverbial dragonfly, and I couldn’t look away to save my life. “You’re so beautiful.” Even with that packing on her nose, she’s riveting.
“When you look at me that way, I believe you mean it.”
“I mean everything I say.”
“We’ll see.” She tips her head ever so slightly to the right, a lock of hair falls over her forehead, and I reach over to tuck it behind her ear.
She exhales a long breath when my fingers skim the petal-soft shell of her ear.
“I’m a sucker for a chance to prove myself right.”
Her heavy-lidded gaze drops to my mouth. And mine moves to hers just as her voluptuous, gloss-slick lips part and the tip of her tongue wets her lower lip before she bites it.
The pull of attraction turns into a tug of want that has a life of its own. I skim my fingers down her silk-smooth throat and cup her neck.
I lean in and brush a kiss across her lips. It’s light as a feather, but it dances across every nerve ending of my body like the shocks I used to get when I dragged my feet over the carpet and then touched the door handle.
She leans away, her eyes wide with surprise that appears as acute as mine.
Her fingers skim her lips, and she closes her eyes as if she’s in pain.
“Are you okay?”
She shakes her head, and my throat closes.
“I’m sorry.” My voice is just above a whisper, and my heart is beating wildly in my chest. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“Whatever it was, I want you to keep thinking it.” A smile tilts one corner of her mouth, and she places a hand on my shoulder, leans over, and presses another damp, lingering kiss to my cheek.
She reaches into her bag and rifles for her keys, pulling out books, scarves, a tablet, and a small bag before she finds them.
“Thank you again for bringing me home.”
“Let me see you up.” I unbuckle my seatbelt and run around to open her door before she can say no.
She hands me my jacket, which I draped over her when we left the event. “No, it’s okay. I’m really tired, and it’s late. But thank you so much. I’ll see you on Sunday.”
She walks with a speed that belies her injuries and disappears down the path that leads to the back of the pub.
I wait until I see a light come on in the upstairs window before I drive off. I haven’t had a crush since I was in high school and fell for my chemistry teacher. But somewhere between seeing her for the first time and tonight, I’ve managed it again.