Liana
“Roya, open the patio at two instead of five. The last thing I want is for you to get swamped while I’m out of town.”
“Okay, okay. I love you.”
“Love you too, and Auntie is proud of you.”
I had been planning this date for a week and a half. It was finally happening. Jaheim had texted that he was on his way. I was ready, the bar was handled, and I had nowhere to be except wherever he was taking me.
Except he wasn’t taking me anywhere. I was taking him.
That distinction mattered. Once upon a time, intentional love was the kind of thing that slowly cost me pieces of myself. So I stopped initiating. Stopped reaching. Called it protecting myself and left it at that. That time period had served its purpose, but it was time for more.
Jaheim had been showing up for months. Consistently, quietly, without needing me to tell him what I needed. He always knew. The least I could do was show his efforts weren’t in vain.
I was nervous. The good kind. I liked him.
I liked what he had brought into my life.
I had always been confident in who I was but someone desiring you specifically, for exactly who you were, was its own kind of exhale.
It felt safe. Freeing. Vindicated for every version of myself I had talked myself out of being.
You could know one hundred percent that it was never you and still question yourself in private. I had done that. I’d sat with every lie betrayal tried to plant in my head.
It was never me.
It had never been me.
I was always the vibe.
Odeal was never going to appreciate that because the haze of stupid had a shelf life, and by the time it wore off, I was already gone. I only wanted the minimum. Love, respect, someone who saw me clearly and stayed anyway. He dropped the ball and kept kicking it.
Jaheim picked it up and slammed it on the backboard.
I sighed as Esme looked up at me from her bed in the corner.
“Don’t look at me like that. You’re staying with Roya.”
She put her head back down.
“Traitor,” Roya said from across the bar, already smiling.
I checked the tickets and the traffic. Everything looked good.
I stepped outside and pulled the top off my Jeep.
The weather was perfect for an interstate drive, though I was already thinking I’d take him down the back roads instead.
Jaheim struck me as someone who would appreciate that more than the highway.
He’d chosen Bloomington over the city for a reason.
I understood that reason better than most.
“You gotta be the finest woman walking this earth, Liana Bloom,” I heard from behind me. I spun around to find an entranced Jaheim Harrison standing at the end of the parking lot.
“You sho’ll know what to say,” I replied, walking towards his open arms. He always greeted me with a hug. I loved that shit.
“I think I missed yo’ ass too much,” he said, kissing up my neck. “What’s this date about? You forgot you the prize?”
“No,” I all but panted, stepping away from him. “I’m excited about what I planned, so stay away from me until later.”
He laughed but nodded.
“My bad, baby. You ready?”
“Yes, and I’m driving,” I said, heading toward the driver’s side.
His eyes swept over the Jeep with the top off, satisfaction flashing across his face before he followed behind me and opened the door.
Before closing it, he caught my chin gently between his fingers and leaned in.
“You smell so good,” he murmured. His mouth brushed mine once, slow enough to make my stomach tighten, then again deeper, lingering like he wasn’t ready to let go yet.
His thumb traced my jaw. “You let me past the gate, Trini. I know what that took. So you have my word, I’ll never forget or disrespect that.”
“Jah.” I was still too close to his mouth. “You can’t say shit like that to a girl like me. I’ll be sure to fall in love.”
He shrugged and shut the door while I sat there completely undone. He climbed in beside me and pulled my seatbelt across my chest without a word.
“We gotta go, baby.”
I wiped the tear that fell and pulled out.
We hit the back roads, and somewhere between the first mile and the second, he reached over and took my hand off the gear shift and held it.
Bloomington was showing off its beauty.
I let us sit with it for a while before I finally spoke.
“How often do you go home?” I asked.
“Not often, real talk. Ain’t nothing there anymore. Bloomington is more home to me now than Alabama’s been in a long time.”
“What happened to you after everything?”
“I got bounced around for about a year until Beau’s mom and my uncle took me in for a little while. They passed two years later, so it was me, Beau, and Rex thugging it out until Beau went to college.”
“Jah, that’s a lot to carry as a kid. Are you okay talking about this? I don’t mean to pry.”
“You good, Trini. Thanks for asking.” He looked out at the road ahead.
“Computers saved me, honestly. I probably shouldn’t be sharing this shit with you.
” He laughed low and shook his head. “Rex had a certain set of skills that he passed to me. I figured out how to legitimize some of it, went to school, built a business among other shit, and stayed out the way.”
“Among other shit is the part you’re not willing to elaborate on right now.”
“I have gray areas, and the less you know, the less you can speak on. I help battered and robbed women. I’ll say that.”
“Battered women? Really? Hhm, that’s interesting.”
My mind was trying to slow down as I took in the multiple facets of Jaheim.
“You were a probation officer. You know people contain multiples.” He squeezed my hand.
“I do know that.” I glanced over at him. “I also know the difference between a dangerous man and a man trying to build a better life than the one he came from.”
“Yeah,” he admitted after a second. “That’s exactly it.”
“What about your dad?”
He exhaled through his nose. “I erased that nigga from my mind a long time ago. Some people don’t deserve real estate in your head.”
I didn’t push on that because I understood it.
We rode the rest of the way into Nashville like that, hand in hand, the back roads opening up ahead of us, and I thought about a boy who lost everything and a girl who lost herself too and how neither of them had any business finding each other in a bar in Bloomington, Tennessee, but here we were. Going somewhere neither of us had been.
“No, so come on. A surprise is a surprise.” He let me pull him along without much urgency. “Come on, silly,” I tossed over my shoulder, tugging his arm.
“I like the view from back here, forgive me.”
He said, whistling behind me, before catching up to me and opening the door.
We headed up the stairs to the loft above.
“My nerves bad as fuck,” he murmured.
“Jaheim, you can trust me.”
“I do trust you, baby. I’m new to this too.”
“Okay, come on.”
We made it to the top step and the floor opened up to a receptionist desk, clean white walls, sneakers mounted like art in shadow boxes down the hall.
“Harrison?”
“Yes,” I said and winked at him while he rubbed his beard.
“Perfect. Welcome to Sole Werkers. I’ll buzz you right in.”
“No fuckin way.” He looked around the studio taking it all in. I watched his features become animated. Nothing but pure, unguarded, boyish excitement rested on his face. No composure. No management.
Jaheim had a sneaker collection that probably ran well over ten thousand dollars. A whole room dedicated to it in his loft, organized and lit like a museum. I clocked it the first night. The PO in me knew the importance of understanding what mattered to people. I filed it away for the right moment.
This was the right moment.
“Come in. Come in.”
Sole Werkers allowed you to design your own shoe from scratch.
Fabric swatches, colorways, embroidery machines, and custom lace options.
The walls were lined with material samples in every texture imaginable — buttery leathers in cognac, forest green, and oxblood; canvas options; suede in dusty rose and slate; patent finishes that caught the light; metallic threads for embroidery.
But most of all, it was intimate, only three other couples in the session with us. I had already ordered from the chef’s menu so we wouldn’t have to leave for dinner. Once we finished designing, the staff would handle the actual customization while we ate, drank, and hung around for the night.
We were handed a bag with our base options. Three choices, all starting white. Air Force Ones, Jordan 1s, and Jordan 4s.
I had picked a Jordan 4 for Jaheim and a Jordan 1 for myself.
He took in the options then turned to me.
“You picked the 4 for me.”
“You wear them the most.”
He shook his head slowly. “How you paying attention like that?”
“Shoes always tell a story.” I shrugged. “I told you that the first night.”
He laughed. “Yeah, you did.”
He pulled me in close and kissed the top of my head. “Best date I’ve ever been on.”
After introductions from our designer, Kae, we were set free to find our stuff.
Jaheim went straight for the leather wall like he knew exactly what he was doing. He ran his hand along the cognac, bypassed it, landed on a deep forest green that had some texture to it and a black that was so dark it had a slight sheen.
“Forest green and black,” he said, holding them up.
“That’s very you,” I said.
He held up the swatches between us. “You’re doing a lot with fabric samples.”
I laughed and turned back to my own options. I pulled a dusty blue jean wash canvas, pearls, a floral embroidery thread in gold and ivory, a white leather base. It came together in my head before I could explain it.
Kae came over to help us map everything out, asking questions as we went.
“You want anything on the inside?” she asked Jaheim. “Some people do a word or a date. Something personal.”
“Trini, what you putting on yours?” he asked, looking at me.
“I think I’m putting ‘blooming’ on mine. Too spot on? Too safe?”