Chapter 16
Alijah
“Idon’t know, Korrena. This isn’t supposed to be anything but a living arrangement. A temporary one at that.”
I can’t hear the other person which tells me that Deshona has the phone up to her ear. But I still don’t move, as I’m interested in hearing more of the one-sided conversation. I just came in from the grocery store and was about to let Deshona know that dinner is on me tonight.
Silence ensues, and I wish I knew what was being said on the other end of the line.
The urge to interrupt this call weighs heavily in my limbs.
But the desire to see how it plays out overrides that feeling as I continue to eavesdrop like a creep.
I have never been this man before, but after being blindsided by Monika, my feet won’t leave the spot I’m in.
“Yes.” Deshona’s low, single-word response snaps me back into the moment.
My chest tightens as pain radiates across the surface, while I hold my breath in wait for the words that are coming after this one that seems to fill Deshona with hesitation.
“Fucking is easy. Opening up my heart when my track record is blemished can be detrimental. I’m not sure.”
What the hell is her cousin saying to her, and how can I fix this shit?
Better yet, are you ready to try?
The counter-question from my conscience leads me to walk away and let Deshona have her privacy.
Deshona’s assessment of opening herself up prompts me to wonder whether our interactions can be more than physical.
The fact that I haven’t been able to stop fucking Deshona tells me that sex isn’t a problem.
I entered this apartment, fresh on the heels of betrayal, and relationships, or the possibility of one, didn’t come into play.
But now, the bounds of this arrangement mean I need to explore it.
From the low, unsure tone of Deshona’s voice, I know we’re at a crossroads neither of us thought possible so soon.
Dinner momentarily forgotten, I walk out the front door and head to the elevator as my mind races with wayward thoughts.
Those perceptions lead me off the elevator and out the front door of the complex.
But I don’t go any further than a few paces away from the main entrance.
I agree with Deshona that fucking isn’t complicated or requires any effort.
I had given a woman access to my heart, and she didn’t care about the consequences of mishandling it.
How can I believe that Deshona will value what I have to offer outside of the orgasms my dick provides to her?
Circumstances led us to this moment, but should they drive us to something romantic?
The truth is, I’m feeling Deshona . . . a lot.
But how can we even consider going down this road if we both have reservations?
Man, you don’t have reservations. Yes, Monika set you back. But she didn’t cause you to be broken to the point of ignoring what’s in your face. Stop being a bitch and go talk to that woman.
I nod at the person who passes me before I reenter the lobby and walk to the bank of elevators.
It’s obvious that instead of talking to a third party, Deshona and I need to discuss what’s happening between us.
We’re both too old to beat around the bush or avoid a subject that pertains to us.
By the time the elevator arrives, other people are waiting, so the ride back to my floor takes five minutes instead of the seconds it normally takes.
When I walk back through the front door, my eyes search the area as I note that Deshona isn’t in the living room or kitchen.
I nod and head back to her bedroom as I shift through the spiel I want to lead the conversation with.
When I’m at her closed door, I blow air from my lungs and knock as I await her reply.
“Hold on, Korrena,” I hear before Deshona grants me permission to enter.
My phone rings just as I turn the knob and enter the room.
Deshona sits on the floor with her legs crossed, an earpiece in her left ear.
Several coloring books, crayons, and color pencils are beside her.
I send Dre's call to voicemail and fire off a quick text to let him know I’ll call him back. Then I shift my focus to Deshona.
“Can we talk?”
Deshona’s eyes fill with curiosity as she nods before speaking to the person on her line. “Let me call you back later.” My brows hike when she smirks and disconnects her eyes from me. “Mhm. I promise.” She taps the earbud and then turns her attention to me.
Whatever you do, don’t tell on yourself. Oversharing is sucka shit.
With my nerves playing soccer in my stomach, I sit down on the floor across from Deshona.
Unlike her, I spread my legs so they envelop her body within the area that they occupy.
The air in the room shifts as Deshona and I lock eyes in a silent stare down.
I can start this discussion in many ways, but then I’d be delaying what I really want to say.
Internally, I give myself a forceful push and jump in.
“Do you see yourself dating again? I know we’ve talked a little about this, but what if I want to do more than fuck you?”
Deshona’s mouth opens and closes for a couple of seconds, and for some reason, it makes me keep speaking instead of giving her time to answer.
“I don’t usually deviate from my plans, but your little ass got me forgetting that I even had any. Usually, that would be a problem. But you just might be my favorite problem to have.”
Deshona’s breath hitches as her right hand hovers over her chest. Her eyes mix with mystery, desire, and something that I’m unable to identify due to how fast her reactions move.
“I don’t want to like you.”
I laugh because the concept and lack of confidence in her words contradict the statement.
“Hm. Cute. Your eyes, your pussy, and the shift in your breathing didn’t seem to get the memo.”
Deshona playfully rolls her eyes as a mischievous smirk slides into place. “Cocky much?”
I press my index finger and thumb together as a low chuckle escapes my mouth. The air around the room becomes less tense as I continue with the conversation.
“On some real shit, I’m feeling you more than I should. But I can’t run from it. I didn’t move to Kaigood expecting to find someone so soon. Yet here I am.”
“If I’m being honest, I can admit to liking you too. It’s just—” Deshona stops talking as if she’s trying to formulate the right thing to say.
“Speak your mind; we’re adults.”
“I’m scared. Every man I’ve dated has confirmed my mom’s prediction that I can do bad myself. That I should be by myself instead of giving them a chance to treat me like shit.”
Damn. Her moms got her fucked up.
“No disrespect, but your mom’s negative experiences shouldn’t make you shit. My folks named me Alijah Khali Dawson, and last I checked, ain’t shit nigga is nowhere on my birth certificate. You can’t paint all men with the same brush, Dee.”
“I know.”
“Nah. We ain’t doing that shit. Lift your head like the mothafucking queen you are. I didn’t say that shit to make you feel a way. I just want you to understand that I’m not them.”
Deshona lifts her head, and although I can see water in her eyes, I also recognize the fighter within her.
“I hear you. So where are you going with this kumbaya moment?” Her lips shift into a smile that lights up the room.
Corny ass woman.
But your ass likes her. Don’t cap like you ain’t enjoying this conversation.
“I’m willing to try again with you if you’re willing to trust that I can be something new in your life.”
Now, who’s being corny? Sucka ass statement.
I smile to disarm and reassure Deshona and push through the statement that rings in my mind.
But all bullshit aside, I want to explore more with this woman.
Having her on my arm at my company party made me feel like a big steppa.
Some of my colleagues gave me props and shit for having a woman like Deshona hidden in the wings.
Not to mention the feelings that ran through my body when Deshona and I slow danced to several songs before the night ended.
If that wasn’t motivation to move us out of the fuck buddy lane, the conversation I overheard earlier definitely was.
“Okay. Can we set some conditions first?”
Lord, women and their stipulations.
I laugh as I contemplate what type of things Deshona is about to put on the table. “Go ahead.”
“First things first, what’s your phone number? I think we should be able to communicate if one of us isn’t here but gets the urge to talk to the other.”
“That’s good shit. Let’s do this old school.”
Deshona’s eyes pinch as light giggles fall from her lips.
“Old school?”
“Mhm. Something like this: Yo, baby, I think you’re kinda fly. Let me have those digits.”
Deshona cracks up, and the sound makes me join her as a light feeling spreads through my chest.
“Only because I think you look cute when you’re thirsty,” she says when her laughter dies off.
“Bullshit. You know I’m your type. You gonna make me beg or give up those ten digits, woman?”
Deshona giggles again, covering her mouth with her left hand and shaking her head. Her eyes sparkle with stars, and I smile.
“You’re crazy. Okay, just this one time. My number is 380-442-4920.”
I throw my right hand up, push it into the air, then retrieve my phone and record the number. Then I send a text so she can lock my number in.
Me: Yo’ beautiful, this is your man. Lock me in.
My eyes rake up to Deshona as her eyes focus on the phone, and her fingers quickly move over the keys. A second later, my phone chimes with a return message.
My Dee: Oddly enough, you’ve been locked in the place that counts.
“You better talk your shit then, Dee. I like that in you.”
“Not more than I like what you put in me.”
My dick jerks and wakes up instantly with those words as our eyes meet again.
“Hold the memory because my first rule of engagement is no dick for the first—”
“You tried it. Don’t fuck around and find yourself with your dick out questioning how it got so creamy.”
“A complaint that will never leave my lips. I’m gonna go cook us dinner, and then we can discuss the rest of your conditions and shit.”
I lean in and place a light kiss on her lips before I stand and leave the room with an extra bounce in my step.
Planned or not, a nigga is in a new relationship.
I can only pray that this time around, I won’t regret the decision.
But just like I told Deshona not to judge me based on her past, I damn sure ain’t about to condemn her for mine.