Chapter 11 Khloe #2
I’d seen one picture of him, but pictures never tell the full truth. I hadn’t even Googled him properly since I didn’t know his full name. That alone felt unlike me.
I was staring at the menu when I heard footsteps approaching. I looked up. And for a second… I forgot how to inhale.
Stacks was tall—every bit of 6’4—broad shoulders stretching the fabric of his black turtleneck like it had been tailored specifically for him. His build wasn’t gym-bulky; it was athletic and solid. Wide receiver energy for real. His skin was smooth with a full beard lined.
His locs were pulled into a neat bun, freshly retwisted, clean enough to make me irrationally nervous. Then I noticed his nose ring.
Oh my God.
I stood quickly, extending my hand out of pure instinct. “Hi—”
But he didn’t take it.
Instead, he smiled and stepped forward, wrapping me into a hug. His body literally swallowed mine. His chest was solid, arms strong without squeezing too tight. It felt protective but respectful. The hug lingered long enough to make your brain short-circuit.
His scent was amazing. I didn’t know what cologne that was, but it deserved a research paper. I silently prayed he never stopped wearing it.
When we pulled back, he looked down at me and smiled, and that’s when I saw his grill.
It wasn’t too flashy, but just enough to catch the light when he smiled. I’d never been a grill girl. Until right then.
“Khloe,” he said, voice smooth. “It’s really nice to finally meet you.”
“Hi,” I managed, feeling ridiculous because that was all my brain would give me.
We sat down across from each other. He rested his forearms on the table, sleeves hugging his muscles. The nose ring caught my attention again, and I almost laughed thinking about how badly I wanted to call Coffee and scream.
She would lose her damn mind.
“You good?” he asked.
I nodded quickly. “Yeah. Just… you look even better than your picture.”
He laughed. “That’s great to hear. I would hate to be labeled as a catfish.”
“Oh trust me,” I said, exhaling, “I’m trying very hard to keep it together.”
That made him smile wider, causing my nerves to ease.
We ordered our food, but neither of us touched the menus or our phones again. Instead, we talked.
Surprisingly it wasn’t the polite, surface-level kind of talking. It was the kind that slipped up on you when you didn’t realize you’d let your guard down until it was already gone.
“So,” he said, resting back in his chair. “Tell me something about you that has nothing to do with being useful to anyone else.”
I blinked. “What?”
He smiled. “No mom answers. No wife answers. No attorney answers. Just… Khloe.”
I stared at my glass of water, buying myself time. “That’s harder than it should be.”
He nodded slowly. “That’s something that needs to change.”
I laughed softly. “Okay… um. I like quiet mornings. Like, real quiet. Silence with just sunlight coming in through the windows.”
He smiled like he was remembering every word. “That’s a good one. Anything else?”
“I love creating things with my hands,” I continued. “Painting, decorating, rearranging spaces. I think I like seeing something transform because sometimes I wish I could do that with parts of myself.”
“That makes sense,” he said gently. “You strike me as someone who holds a lot inside. Someone who learned early how to make things beautiful even when sometimes they weren’t.”
My throat tightened. I didn’t know how he saw that so clearly after barely knowing me.
“Tell me about the little girl version of you,” he added. “What did she want to be before life started to life?”
“She wanted to travel. Everywhere. She wanted color, art, and music. She thought love would be loud and exciting and full of laughter.”
“And now?”
“Now…” I paused. “I still want those things. I just learned how to put them on hold until it's time.”
He took a deep breath, but he didn’t comment on it. Instead, he asked, “What makes you feel most like yourself?”
The answer came quicker that time. “When I don’t feel rushed. When someone actually wants to know the deep misunderstood parts of me.”
“I figured. For what it’s worth,” he added, “you have a really calming presence. You make me want to slow down.”
I laughed. “Nobody’s ever said that about me.”
“That’s because people don’t ask you enough questions,” he said simply.
We talked about music, books, how he hated small talk but loved deep conversations that wandered into unexpected places, and how he believed laughter was a form of intimacy.
He told me how he taught himself discipline because chaos raised him, and how fatherhood changed the way he moved through the world. How he liked to observe people before deciding who deserved access to him.
The way he spoke was so thoughtful and warm without being performative. It wasn’t flirting. It felt more like it was a connection. That realization both thrilled and terrified me.
It had been so long since someone looked at me like I was interesting just for existing.
When our food arrived, it almost felt intrusive.
He laughed at my expression. “We can ignore it for a minute.”
I nodded. “Please.”
We kept talking.
We took a minute and ate our food but never stopped talking in between bites and laughing.
“So, do you have any plans after this?”
I shook my head a little too quickly. “Nope. Nothing planned.”
I could feel the disappointment creeping in knowing that our meetup was coming to an end.
“What about you?” I asked.
“I’ve got a couple meetings and some calls I should probably handle,” he said honestly. Then he shrugged. “But… they can wait.”
That did something to me. It was a weird feeling in my chest because it felt like someone chose me, our moment, and my presence.
“Oh,” I said softly, trying not to show how I really felt.
“Why?” he continued, leaning forward a little. “You tryna get rid of me already?”
I laughed. “Not even close.”
“Good,” he said. “Because I had an idea.”
I raised a brow. “And what is that?”
“I was thinking we could stop by this music store I like. I’ve got a record player at home, and I’m trying to build my collection.”
“Records?” I repeated, surprised. “Like vinyl?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I’m old-school like that.”
“I didn’t know many people still did that.”
“Oh, I do,” he said. “Music sounds different on vinyl.”
“That actually makes sense.”
He tilted his head. “So… you down?”
I hesitated for a second. “Are you sure? You said you had work.”
“Hell yeah I’m sure,” he said laughing. “Work will be there when I’m done. I need to see what kind of music you’re into anyway.”
I laughed. “Why?”
“Because I need to know if you’ve got any depth.”
I gasped dramatically. “Excuse you.”
He laughed, standing up. “Come on. Let’s go.”
He paid the bill and we headed out together. I didn’t even think about how my morning started because I was too busy smiling ear to ear from how it had progressed unexpectedly.