Chapter 21 Crystal
Crystal
I rolled over and blinked at the purple dawn slipping through the slats of my miniblinds. I sure didn’t feel like going to work.
I rolled over onto my side, turning my back on the offensive red numbers, and willed myself five more minutes of sleep when suddenly I heard a strange sound.
Umph, umph, umph.
What the hell?
I raised my head up off the pillow and listened a bit more intently.
Umph, umph, umph.
Easing myself out of bed, I crept to my bedroom door and pressed my ear against the cool white wood.
Umph! Umph! Umph!
Was Neville having sex?
No, he did not bring some heffa in this house to screw when I was right here, willing and more than able!
I swung the door open, biting back the four-letter words that marched to the front of my throat as I sped down the hallway toward his room. How dare he bring some skank ho back to my home to screw when all the pussy he needed was right here!
I was halfway down the hall when I screeched to an abrupt halt.
What the fuck was I thinking? This was not supposed to be about me; well, it was about me in some ways.
I mean, it was about respecting my home, respecting me.
It was not about him not making a pass at me, not propositioning me. No, no, of course not.
I started forward again. The door to his room was ajar; I pushed it open and rushed forward.
“Neville!” I screamed at the top of my lungs.
“Yes, Crystal?”
I blinked. He wasn’t in the bed and neither was anyone else. The bed was empty. Slowly my eyes moved down to the floor, and there he was hunched up on his fists in mid-push-up.
Push-ups?
I felt like an idiot. A complete fool.
“Crystal?” he said again. “Is there something wrong?” he asked, coming down flat on his stomach and then rolling over onto his back.
I looked down into his fine face. He was shirtless, and it just made my day to see that broad beautiful chest and rippling six-pack beneath me.
He was wearing a snug pair of gray cotton shorts. I could see the curve of his penis, and it looked bigger flaccid than any erect dick I had ever had.
Damn!
I shifted my eyes back to his face. “Um, I thought I heard the smoke alarm going off,” I lied miserably.
“Really?” he said, giving me a quizzical look. “I didn’t hear a thing.”
“Oh, sorry, I must have been—” I didn’t even finish the statement; I just abruptly changed the subject. “So you work out, huh?”
Neville’s face remained puzzled, and then he let go a small laugh and said, “Yeah, I try to do about three hundred and fifty push-ups and sit-ups a day.”
“Wow,” I marveled, understanding how he got that chiseled upper body. “You do it every morning?”
“Yep!”
“That’s impressive,” I said, sounding like a smitten teenager. “I usually run five miles a day, but I just haven’t been motivated lately.”
“Well, I would love to run with you.”
Here was my chance to spend some time with Neville. “Well, I’m taking a personal day today. We could go for a run this morning…well, if you don’t have any plans.”
That last part of my statement had a tinge of sarcasm attached to it, so I quickly batted my eyes and offered a sweet smile to take the edge off it.
“Sure, I’m all yours,” he said.
***
I showered as quickly as I could and doused myself in Sung before I spent ten minutes looking for the cutest, sexiest jogging suit I owned, which happened to be a slick black outfit made by Baby Phat.
I pulled my hair back into a prepubescent ponytail and even had the nerve to tie a pink bow around it.
My diamond studs, a little MAC lip gloss, and I was ready to go.
“Wow!” Neville exclaimed when I walked into the living room. “Are we still going running?” he said, standing back and folding his arms across his chest. “You look beautiful.”
I blushed, waved my hand at him, and said, “This old thing? Pullleeze. ”
***
Once inside Central Park, I kept the pace slow enough that I wouldn’t work up too much of a sweat.
We were at the beginning of our second mile when it happened.
It was a sharp uphill turn; Neville was slightly ahead of me, and I took advantage of the opportunity to snatch a peek at his legs and that wonderful rock-hard ass of his, and when I looked up again, a young woman on Rollerblades was coming right at me.
Startled, I veered right to avoid colliding with her, but my feet became entangled and down I went.
Blam!
“Owwwwww!” I screamed as I lay writhing in pain on the ground. I’d landed on my right hip in an effort to try to break my fall, and I’d scraped my hand, most of my forearm, and my elbow.
“Crystal! Crystal!” Neville cried as he rushed back to me. “What happened?”
“Clumsy,” I muttered as he gently helped me back up onto my feet. I rubbed my hip and moaned.
“Look at you!” Neville exclaimed as he examined the scrapes on my arm and elbow. “C’mon. Let’s get you back home,” he said, pulling off his T-shirt and wrapping it around my bloody arm.
Looking at those well-defined pecs almost made me forget about my pain.
He wrapped his arm around my waist, and we started back toward my apartment.
Damn, he felt good against me.
It took us about thirty minutes to get back to the apartment, and once inside, I collapsed onto the couch. The effort it took and all the pain I was in had taken a toll on my appearance. I had caught sight of myself in the wall-to-wall mirrors in the lobby of my apartment building. What a sight!
My hair was a mess, my track pants were torn at the hip, and one leg was covered in road dust. And there were half moon–shaped sweat stains in the armpits of my T-shirt.
“Okay, now let’s get you fixed up,” Neville said, and he slapped his hands together. “Do you have any alcohol around here?”
“Yes,” I said weakly. He was still shirtless and seemingly very comfortable with it. And I have to admit, so was I. “In the medicine cabinet in my bathroom.”
Neville darted off and was back before I could blink. In his hand he had a bunch of cotton balls, a bottle of alcohol, and a few Band-Aids.
He unwrapped his T-shirt from my arm and examined my wounds. “Hmm, well, the bleeding has stopped,” he said. “Now brace yourself, this will sting.”
I watched him as he undid the lid to the alcohol and then drenched the cotton balls with the clear liquid. “Are you ready?” he asked, holding my arm with his hand, while the other held the cotton balls just an inch from my lacerated skin.
“Wait, wait,” I whispered as I grabbed one of the throw pillows and pressed it against my mouth. I nodded at him that I was ready.
The first dab sent an icy spike through my brain; the second brought tears to my eyes; and the third was the worst: I screamed bloody murder into that pillow.
“Sorry, sorry, baby. I just got to make sure the wound is properly disinfected,” he cooed.
Did he call me baby? I grinned into the pillow.
When he was done, he examined my arm again and blew warm air onto it.
“Does it feel better?” he said, turning those beautiful brown eyes on me.
“Uh-huh.” I nodded, even though it was still stinging.
“Now let’s get a look at that hip,” he said, and reached for the waistband of my track pants. That move took me off guard, and my hand automatically went up to fend his away.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said quickly, shaking his head apologetically. “What was I thinking?” He was obviously very embarrassed.
What the hell was I thinking? Damn instant reactions!
“That’s okay,” I muttered. Both of us averted our eyes for a moment. “Um,” I started, and then realized I didn’t know what to say.
Neville cleared his throat and said, “So I’m going to go jump in the shower, okay?”
“Yeah, yeah. Go on ahead. Me too. I mean I’m going to take a shower too.”
“All right, then.”
“Thanks for everything,” I said as he turned away.
***
“What’s wrong with you?” Geneva asked after I barely eked out a hello. “I called your job, and they said you took the day off. You sound horrible.”
“Oh, I’m groggy because I just took some Tylenol PM and it’s just starting to kick in.”
“Migraine?”
“No, I fell while I was running in the park yesterday.”
“Oh, no. Did you twist your ankle?”
“No, but I banged up my arm and hip pretty badly.”
“Do you need me to come over and do anything for you?”
“No, no. Neville is here,” I said a little too quickly.
“What do you mean ‘here’?” Geneva whispered wickedly. “You mean in your bed there ?”
“Oh please, Geneva.”
“Uh-huh, the man has been here for nearly two weeks, and I haven’t seen hide nor hair of him. What—you got the brother on lockdown or something?” she laughed. “Keeping him as your sex slave!”
“You are so stupid.”
“Yeah, okay. I hope you’re feeling better by this weekend ’cause Eric is playing at some dinner club and I need you to help me go shopping.”
“Yeah, I should be okay by Saturday.”
“Okay, then. Are you sure you don’t want me to come over?”
“No, I’m fine, really.”
I hung up the phone and continued listening to the umph, umph sounds coming from the next room as Neville did his push-ups.
I turned over and hugged my pillow tightly; I sure did envy that floor.
A few minutes later, I was out like a light and dreaming about Neville giving me my very own private striptease show, when the phone rang and rudely interrupted my wet dream.
I angrily snatched the receiver off the base and groggily barked, “Hello?”