Houston
Standing outside of her apartment, my anxiety was sky high.
It was something about her that made me nervous.
I wanted to be perfect for her, say the right things, move correctly and make sure we took our time.
It could be that she was the first woman since Leslie or that she was so confident.
I was staying the course because I would never want her to dim her light on my behalf.
She was a shining star, and nothing should come in between that.
I feel like I went all out for this date.
It felt good to dress up like a grown man for once.
My attire mainly consisted of holey jeans, paint-stained t-shirts, and busted boots.
Tonight I decided to change it up. I went with black jeans, a white tee, a black blazer, and my all-time favorite black suede loafers.
When I wanted to dress up I had the style, it was just no need to impress anyone until now.
I knew she wouldn’t half-step, and I couldn’t either.
“Were you ever going to knock?” she asked, opening the door and taking my breath away.
The grey tube top dress she wore melted into her body.
I was mesmerized. Her jet-black hair flowed with a few loose curls.
I was at a loss for words, staring into her slanted eyes and drinking in her beautiful smile.
I would cross the earth a million times to get to her smile.
“You look amazing, Teaghan,” I managed to say, still eyeballing her smooth skin, perfect breasts, and again that warm smile that hit me in the gut the first time I saw it.
“Thank you. You look really nice also. It’s refreshing.”
I stepped back to take her in a little more. I couldn’t deny she had me feeling like a lucky man. Having her on my arm tonight would bring in some attention and stares. I was cool with that. She deserved it the way she was killing it in this dress.
“I got these for you also, my bad.”
“Flowers too?” she asked, winking at me and smelling the flowers. “You still got it, H-town. Come in so I can put my shoes on and grab my shawl.”
Stepping in her home was eccentric much like her.
Paintings that looked to be done by her covered the walls.
Vases, wood carvings of black children, velvet couches; it looked a lot like her office.
Her bending over to clasp her shoes brought my attention to her long chocolate legs.
They reminded me of black licorice. Long and moldable.
She slipped the nude heels on, grabbed her clutch and blew out the thirty candles she had lit as I continued to watch in amazement.
“Sacrificing somebody?” I joked. She laughed and shook her head at my joke. I was trying to bring the funny side of me to the forefront without trying too hard. I used to have a sense of humor.
I was no comedian, but I used to have fun.
Life wasn’t always so mundane and sullen with me.
When I used to get with my boys for game night we would have fun cracking jokes with one another.
Now it just seemed like I didn’t have the time to have a moment to kick back and just be with my boys.
Luke was really all I had left. Death made shit awkward and it made my friends stay away when I needed them the most. That was another reason why I was careful.
“Yea, my father. Let’s get out of here,” grabbing her hand we left together.
Opening the door to my truck I let her slide in.
Getting in myself I did something I rarely did.
I cut on some music. I figured she was a Lauryn Hill or Alina Baraz type of woman.
You know cool vibes, soothing lyrics, and sultry shit.
But then again I knew I needed to stop assuming what she liked and who she was.
It was a bad habit I took up after Leslie.
Everyone carried on like life couldn’t go on with minor shit.
They acted as if the small shit they went through was on the level of losing a loved one.
It frustrated me to hear people complain when they had no idea of what having a bad day was really like.
So it was rare for me to ask certain questions in fear of how the answers would make me feel.
“Houston, are you trying to woo me?” she asked, rubbing the back of my head softly. Her hands were always so soft and touch always comforting. She had no idea what her touch did to me and how I looked forward to it.
“Yeah, but I want to feel like a man again. And I’ve been googling songs I thought you would like based on your breakroom. I hope that’s ok?”
“Music is a start, then food, then laughs. So I would say you are on the right path. And it’s cool for you to be interested in what interest me.
I don’t think that’s changed love,” she replied.
I loved how my efforts were constantly met with patience and appreciation.
She didn’t push, but she still let me know that she cared. Her patience went a long way with me.