Bridget
It’s official.
I need to get laid, and fast—or slow. I’m not really concerned how, all I know is that my right hand has been working overtime since the weekend and the poor girl needs a break.
Imani thought it would be funny to have a wrist-support delivered to my apartment, but joke’s on her because the thing has been a lifesaver.
I haven’t seen much of her since she’s preoccupied with Adam.
Not that I mind, though, because I’m glad she’s happy, and from the couple of times I met Adam, it’s painstakingly obvious she makes him happy, too.
After her recent ex-boyfriend, she deserves nothing more than to be worshipped, and Adam does exactly that.
“Wait, wait…” Imani tears me away from my thoughts. “So he just pulled you into his side and pretended to be your fiancé?”
I hum as I look up at my ceiling from where I sprawl across my bed. I’ve been here for the past forty minutes, wearing nothing but a cropped camisole and a pair of panties. “Yeah, it was crazy.” I laugh. “Tom looked like he wanted to murder us. It was funny.”
Imani laughs along. She’s always disliked him, even when we were together. “I bet. He always liked to have one up on you.”
I used the hate the way Imani would moan or complain about him in any type of way, but it wasn’t until after the breakup that I understood what she was saying. He really was a nasty piece of work.
“Anyway, Bids, I’ve got to go,” Imani says into the receiver. “Adam and I are taking the kids out for dinner. Have fun on your date with Malik tonight, by the way. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”
I love the way Imani has taken Adam’s children, Zoe and Lucas, under her wing, and I’m so glad they’ve been so accepting of her. I gloss over the way she casually brings up my date with Malik right at the end of our call, like she’s hasn’t just had twenty minutes to bring it up.
“Malik told you?” I ask as I sit upright on my bed.
She laughs. “Of course he did! That man has been waiting for this day for years, Bids. I can’t believe you held out on me!”
I sigh—I miss my best friend. “I’ll tell you all about it on Tuesday. We’re still on for dinner, right?”
Imani is humming in response, but I can hear the kids in the background and it seems like they’re trying to get her attention. “Yes, babe, absolutely. See you then!”
She hangs up before I can say goodbye.
A tired and sad sigh passes through my lips as I lie in my silent apartment.
It’s never usually this quiet. There’s always someone here with me, whether it’s my sister or Imani, but I’m rarely alone.
I lift my head from my pillow just as my phone dings and I look down to see a message from Malik waiting for me.
Malik
I’ll be there in twenty. I can’t wait to see you.
I smile down at my phone. I can’t wait to see him either.
Malik is early, which is very unlike him, and I’m running behind.
I hate being late. I hate leaving anyone waiting, but Malik waits patiently in the living room as I put my earrings in.
I spent most of the twenty minutes waiting for Malik in my underwear because I had no idea what to wear.
Imani was gone out for dinner so I couldn’t ask for her advice, and Natalie’s with Katherine.
Thankfully, I’m not completely inept and managed to find a cute cornflower blue summer dress in the back of my closet.
I debate wearing sneakers with the dress because Malik has never really cared too much about what I’ve worn when we’ve hung out before, but then I remind myself that we’re not friends tonight.
We’re Malik and Bridget, two people going on their first date.
So, as I duck out of my room, I grab the pair of white kitten heels that are tucked under the end of my bed.
Malik sits on the couch, looking down at his clasped hands as I walk in. He doesn’t see me right away so I take the moment to slip on my heels and straighten out the creases in my dress.
As my right heel touches the floor, Malik looks up from where he’s sitting and pushes himself up. His dark eyes take their time making their way down my body, pausing briefly on the dip of my waist before continuing their perusal down to the tips of my toes.
“You look beautiful,” he says, taking a step forward. “I like this colour on you.”
His hand reaches forward and he tucks his thumb under the strap of my dress and untwists it. Goose bumps spread across my skin as his thumb gingerly brushes over my collarbone as he returns the strap to its rightful place.
“You’re wearing a dress shirt,” I say, my hands flattening against his chest and running over the cream fabric that clings to his torso like a dream. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a dress shirt.”
Malik shakes his head and his hands circle around my wrists. “That’s a lie—I wore one at prom.”
I roll my eyes and look up to see his gaze already on me. “What? Do I have smudged lipstick?”
“Not yet.” I raise my brow at his comment, and he chuckles. “Wishful thinking.”
I lean up and press my lips against his cheek and then playfully push him away. “Maybe if you’re lucky, I’ll make it a reality for you.”
Malik whistles lowly and runs his thumb over his bottom lip. “Come on, let’s go. Otherwise we’ll miss our reservation.”
I grab the cream cardigan hanging on the back of a dining chair on our way out, and I smile as Malik holds out his hand, waiting for me to take it in mine. I don’t keep him waiting long because as soon as my skin touches his, he links our fingers together and squeezes.
He doesn’t tell me where we’re going until we’re parking along the street in Downtown Briarwood. He puts the car in park, and like the gentleman he is, he hops out and jogs around the front of the car to open my door.
I slip my hand in his and don’t let go of it until we’re inside the restaurant.
He made a reservation at a Mexican place I’ve been wanting to try for months.
The waitress leads us to a small table which sits against a floor-to-ceiling window.
The air conditioner is on full blast, and I’m thankful as I take a seat on the wooden chair because the summer evenings have been relatively warm recently.
The two of us look over the menu and as soon as my eyes land on Birria tacos, my stomach rumbles. “Do you want a margarita?” I ask as Malik looks at the drink menu.
“Absolutely,” he replies. “I need something to calm my nerves.”
I can’t help but blush at his admission. “I’m nervous too,” I tell him quietly.
I’ve tried my hardest to convince myself all day that I have nothing to be nervous about and that it’s just us, but that’s the whole point of us being here—to break away from being just friends.
Malik isn’t stupid, he knows that I’ve liked him for just as long, if not longer, as he has, but I never thought we’d actually be doing this—going on a date.
When I was younger, and before I knew how he felt, I always daydreamed and wished he would ask me out.
And now that it’s happening, I can’t help but feel nervous. Nervous that we’re about to ruin our friendship. Nervous that I can’t be what he needs. Nervous that I’m not good enough.
Malik rubs the back of his neck and laughs awkwardly. “Fuck, why does this feel so…weird?” He looks up at me, a blush dusting over his cheekbones. “I’ve been thinking about this for so long, and I guess I’m just worried I’m going to fuck it up somehow.”
I reach across the table and give his hand a reassuring squeeze.
“Malik Kingston blushing over me, who would’ve thought?
” I tease, and that seems to relieve some of the tension in his shoulders.
“I get it, though. I’m nervous it’ll ruin years of friendship between us, but like you said, we can see how it goes, and if it doesn’t work out then things don’t have to change between us.
I’ll love you regardless—romantically or platonically, you’ll always be my best friend. ”
Malik brings my hand up to his lips and brushes his pillowy lips against my knuckles, and the look in his eyes has me blushing.
“Are you guys ready to order?” The waitress pops up out of nowhere, taking us both by surprise. “Or do you need a few?”
“We’ll start with two of the mango margaritas, please,” I order for us, and Malik looks over at me with an amused look. “What?” I ask once the waitress has gone.
“You’re ordered for me—it was cute.”
I narrow my eyes playfully. “I ordered for you because I know you’re indecisive as hell and we would’ve had to wait ten minutes for you to decide if you want the mango or coconut.”
Our waitress comes back and takes our food order before leaving the two of us to talk amongst ourselves.
We fall into conversation easily. We talk about work, Asha, my parents, his parents, and Imani.
When our food comes, the two of us fall into a comfortable silence, talking only to exchange comments about the meal or share each other’s food.
I knew being with Malik would feel comfortable, and I’m glad the pressure of the date hasn’t made things awkward for us. But the more we talk, the more I’m waiting for things to click, and it’s not happening—and I’m trying to think of reasons as to why I don’t feel the sparks between us.
I want to feel more. I want it to feel like how it’s been in my head for the past ten years.
I want there to be sparks and fireworks like I so desperately wished for.
And now that we’re here, I’m not feeling it.
Maybe it’s just because we’re best friends.
Maybe we need something more for the pieces of the puzzle to fit together.
Maybe when things progress the sparks will come, and then I’ll be able to laugh at how impatient I was.
As I pull myself back to the present, I’m not surprised to hear him still talking about his sister.
“I think he’s good for her,” Malik comments, as he takes a sip of his margarita. “Holy shit, that’s good.”
I taste mine and nod in agreement. “He seems like he has his head screwed on, and that’s what she needs. Especially after Connor.” Malik grimaces at the name and shakes his head. “She seems happy and that’s the main thing.”
“I want to talk about us, not my sister,” he says, “Whenever we’re together we always go back to talking about her, and as much as I love my sister, I don’t want to talk about her anymore.”
I run my index finger around the circular lip of the martini glass and tilt my head to the side. “What do you want to talk about?”
His eyes are slightly glossy, and I can tell the third margarita is kicking in, and my tipsy-self basks in his slightly disheveled look. “I’ll be honest, Bids, talking is the last thing I want to do right now.”
Fuck, maybe this is what we need? This could be the connection I need to bring us together. Once we take that next step, things will surely stop feeling like a friendship and something more, right? Fuck, I need it to feel like something more.
“Are you trying to get in my pants?”
Malik groans and hides his face in the crook of his arm. “I’m trying not to rush it, and I don’t want you to think that’s all I want, but ever since you came out wearing that goddamn blue dress my mind has been thinking of how good it would look bunched up around your waist.”
“You want to fuck me with my clothes on?” I ask, and his eyes droop slightly. “You don’t want to take them off?”
His hands clench on the table top and he shakes his head. “I want to fuck you with them on and then off.”
I down the last of my drink and wave the waitress over. “Well, I guess we better get out of here so you can do both.”