Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Ihad a stressful day. From customers going crazy because of the snowstorm that was coming, and some just being fucking rude, like this nigga here.
When I got the alert for a delivery, I contemplated it at first because I didn’t want to get caught up in the storm, but since it wasn’t too far away, and I could use the money, I took the order.
If only I had known that it would have landed me here at this nigga’s house…
I would have never taken the order, and now I was stuck until who knows when.
His house was clean and smelled good. His cologne and soap, which he used when he showered, lingered in the air.
Even though he looked clean, that attitude made his ass ugly as fuck.
He wasn’t, though. Tall, milk chocolate brown-skinned with a thuggish demeanor.
He had a scraggly beard, and you can tell he had some good hair.
It was braided back, but it looked really soft.
His arms and neck were covered in tattoos, giving him more of a bad boy look.
Mean.
Stupid.
Grouchy.
Grinch.
He sat on that damn bean bag chair with his long legs stretched out, eating his pancakes. I wished I had thrown that bag so hard that the shit would have fallen out of the container and onto the ground.
I saw him cut his eyes over to me. Placing my hands in the pockets of my hoodie, that’s when it hit me… I had my cellphone.
“Toss your phone on the coffee table lil’ mama,” he said as he chewed a piece of bacon, not even looking at me.
“No,” I stated.
He shoveled a forkful of pancakes into his mouth, chewed slowly, then pointed the fork at me. “Your phone. Coffee table.”
Again, I argued, “No.”
The Grinch let out a sharp laugh. “You don’t know the type of nigga I am, sweetheart. Put that shit on the damn table or fuck around and find out.”
Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I cussed his ass out so bad in my head, but I dropped my phone on the coffee table with a clank. Satisfied, he continued with his meal until he was done. He stood, grabbed my phone, and took off toward…I’m guessing the kitchen.
No one would be looking for me at this time because I’d told my parents and best friend, Millie, that I was going to bed. After the day I had, that was my plan. I should have gone along with that plan.
He came out of the kitchen, and then I watched him swagger down the hall, not saying shit to me. My phone wasn’t in sight. It was probably in his pocket.
Frustrated because I could have been in my warm bed, watching murder shows until I fell asleep, I sat back on his sofa waiting for whatever was next.
How long was he keeping me? Would I have to sleep here?
Hell, I was tired, and now my bladder reminded me that I had to use someone else’s bathroom. The guy came back with a floss pick between his lips.
“I need to use the bathroom,” I sighed.
His brow rose. “Getcho ass up then.”
“You gon’ stop talkin’ to me crazy,” I muttered, standing and stomping in his direction.
When I arrived where he stood, he used his thumb to point to the location of his bathroom. Rolling my eyes, I began to enter the bathroom, but stopped and turned to face him.
“Do you need to watch me or…”
A boyish grin appeared as he stepped closer to me. He looked down. “Nah.”
He left, and I shut the door, locking it. There wasn’t a window I could climb out of; therefore, I see why he said he didn’t have to watch me. Where could I go?
His bathroom was clean. The water in the toilet was blue. The mirror was crystal clear with no toothpaste spots. I guess he was a clean nigga. I handled my business and even sat on the toilet a little longer just to clear my mind and figure out what I was going to do.
I didn’t come up with anything.
I was stuck here until the snowstorm passed. If I did take my ass out there, I was likely to die, and I wanted to see tomorrow, so I guess I was thankful for the shelter…even though it was with a real grinch. His attitude was horrible, and he doesn’t know how to talk to females.
But his ass was something to look at.
Too fine.
Ain’t seen none like it.
“Shit!” I screamed.
He was standing against the wall with one leg bent back, foot on the wall, and his tatted arms crossed over his chest. An annoyed expression on his face.
“Don’t be shittin’ in my shit, girl,” he fussed.
“I wasn’t,” I replied, forehead wrinkling. “I had to…breathe.”
He pushed off the wall. “There’s plenty of room in there,” he said, motioning with his head toward the living room. Rolling my eyes, I followed him back down the hall. I yawned. He kind of looked back.
“Sleepy?”
I nodded behind his back. There was a crack and then a loud thump. Something outside fell on the building. The gust of wind grew harder and louder as the rain poured down heavily.
“Can you turn on the news? I want to see what they’re saying.”
He looked at his game system and then over at me with a raised brow.
“Or give me my phone back, and I can look it up myself,” I suggested with an attitude.
I sat back down on the soft, dark brown sofa.
“What’s yo name?” he queried. Before I could respond, he started speaking into his mic. “Aye, bro…gimme thirty minutes, and I’ll hop back on if Sneaux let you stay up.” He snickered. He snatched the headset off. “What’s your name?” he asked again.
I could have been rude and told him it was on the app, but I chose to let him win this battle. “Daee… Like a holiday. Yours?”
“Kasim.”
My eyes narrowed on him. “Lies. I know it starts with a S. That’s all I remember.”
He snorted out a chuckle and drawled out, “Shad. You smoke?”
I shook my head.
“Aight. You can have my bed if yo ass is ready to lie down.”
“You’re mean as fuck just from how you talk to me, and…” I looked around his place. “…there is no sign of Christmas here.”
His neck jerked back. “I’m a nigga. I don’t decorate.
My mama did this shit. I don’t care ‘bout no damn Christmas to be honest. I go to my parents’ crib, eat, and come back home to sleep the shit off.
The gifts I do buy, I put them under their tree.
You want to hear jingle bells or some shit?
Rudolph’s bitch ass? Mariah Carey screaming? ”
My eyes stretched because this fool couldn’t be serious. When I saw that he really was, I laughed a laugh that came from the bottom of my belly.
“What the fuck is funny?” he asked, sitting down on his bean bag, placing the headset back on his head.
“You, and I’m not sleeping in that damn bed. I might need to sleep standing because I don’t even think the sofa is safe. Niggas fuck anywhere,” I mumbled, the last sentence a little lower.
“Shit, suit yo’self. I ain’t fucked in that bed in months, baby. I go to them hoes house, and you don’t see no damn cum stains on my gah damn couch.”
My face scrunched up instantly. I turned to the side and got comfortable on his sofa, pulling y knees close to me. I sighed loudly, and Shad turned his head to the side.
“What now?” he exhaled. He’d started rolling up a blunt.
“Can I have my phone…please? My mom has my lo. If she checks it and sees that I’m not at home during this storm, she’ll panic. She’ll call and call, and then she’ll call the police.”
“What can they do during this storm? I bet their scary asses are taking cover as we speak. Them muhfuckas probably happy they ain’t gotta be out there paroling ‘n shit. Muhfuckas eating donuts and drinking coffee.” Shad dug in his pocket, pulling out my phone, and tossed it on the couch near my foot. “Here.”
“Thanks,” I muttered. “Can I um…get a blanket?”
“Go get in my bed.”
“No.”
Shad shook his head with a chuckle. It was warm enough, but I wanted a blanket just in case I fell asleep. The lights flickered.
“Ahhh, fuck,” Shad grumbled. He removed his headset again, stood, and pulled his pants up. My eyes followed him to the fireplace.
“What’s going on?” I quizzed.
“Electricity might go out. We need to be prepared.”
I sat up. “How long do you think this storm will last?”
Shad’s brows were pinched. “Worse than last year.”
“You’re serious?” I asked in a high-pitched voice. My phone chimed, and when I looked down, it was a text from my mom.
Madre: Where are you and why aren’t you home! It’s storming Holidaee! Not a damn thunderstorm! SNOW!
I was twenty-six years old, and Mama forgets sometimes. I knew she was just worried about me, but as far as I felt, I was safe…and I thiiiink I was in good hands. Shad was mean as hell, but he didn’t give me Michael Myers vibes.
Me: I’m okay, Ma. I’m at a friend’s house cuz I didn’t want 2 b alone.
My lying ass. Shad was not a friend of mine.
The fire crackled, and I looked up from my phone. Shad was very good-looking. His low red eyes glided to me, and I looked back down at my phone. My face burned from being caught gawking at him. He was fine, but that’s how far it went. I wasn’t interested in anything else.
My last relationship was two months ago with a guy named Myron. It went on for half a year until we just went our separate ways. Half a year, and we were very incompatible, and the sex was basic. From his social media page, I saw that he was in a new relationship. I was happy for him.
Madre: Just keep your phone charged, Holidaee. I love you.
A smile tugged at my lips. She was the only one who called me by my whole first name. I preferred just Daee.
Me: I will, Ma. I love you, Dad, and Denver.
My phone was on sixty-five percent. I was okay for now.
The wind howled, rattling the windows. I tucked my legs tighter under me. A loud boom hit outside, causing me to flinch.
“Shit,” I whispered under my breath.
It didn’t even move Shad. He shoved another log into the fireplace and brushed his hands together.
‘Storm ain’t even at its full potential. You gon’ hear way worse than that,” he said, with his back facing me.
I swallowed, my nerves doing backflips. “Uh, thanks for the comfort.”
Shad pivoted with a smirk on his lips. “Just bein’ real.”
The fire started catching, the shadows dancing all over his tattoos. I looked away quickly. The wind slammed another gust against his building.
“Is your place safe?” I asked.
“You rather be outside?” he shot back.
“It’s pointless trying to have a conversation with you,” I said, rolling my eyes.
Shad shrugged and put his focus back on the fire.
I wondered if this was the reason why he didn’t have a girlfriend.
Well, I’m assuming he didn’t have one. Not once did he pick up the phone to call and check on her if he did.
The only person I heard Shad talking to was a brother, and that was through his gaming headset.
I was deep in watching the Christmas movie I had playing on my phone; I had tuned Shad out.
I’d forgotten where I was until a heavy blanket fell on me.
When I peered up, Shad was walking away, back toward his room.
It was one of those weighted blankets because it surely held me down, and my eyes grew heavier.
I had been fighting my sleep. I was told these types of blankets had melatonin in them, and I be damned if my eyes didn’t close.
My eyes shot open at the sound of an alarm blaring. It was coming from my phone and…
It was dark in the apartment, but the masculine scent was still wafting in the air.
Shad came rushing into the living room, and I sat up quickly.
The blaring alarms finally stopped. I couldn’t see him, but I heard him.
The light popped on, and I almost choked on my spit.
He was shirtless, and tattoos completely covered his skin.
Shad looked out of his window.
“Fuck,” he mumbled.
“Wha.. What?” I asked him.
“The snow is getting high. I’m not sure how long we gon’ be snowed in, but it’s dangerous right now for anyone to be out in this shit,” he replied.
“Christmas is in three days,” I groaned out. I still had some last-minute shopping to do, and I could taste my Mama’s greens and yams on the tip of my tongue. Just thinking about them had my mouth watering.
I removed the blanket from my body and sighed. I had no toothbrush, which mortified me. No extra clothes. No nothing. I was fucked, and I wanted to shower. I was afraid to ask this fool for anything, but I had to.
“Can I…shower? Do you have like an extra-long t-shirt I can borrow…and maybe a toothbrush too?”
“Yeah,” he said, which surprised me. There was no pushback or smart comeback.
I trailed Shad to his room, stopping at the door as he went inside.
Like the rest of his place, his room was clean.
There wasn’t any trash on the floor. The carpet was clean, freshly vacuumed from the prints it left.
There was a king-sized bed in the middle of the room with a plush black rectangular headboard.
He came back with a shirt and boxer-briefs that I could tell came right out of a brand-new pack. On top of the clothes was a toothbrush still in its package.
“Thank you,” I said, our eyes meeting. They held for a moment until Shad stuffed his hands in front of his joggers and walked away. I backed away from his room, slowly turned on the balls of my socked feet, and traveled back toward the bathroom, and locked myself inside of it.