Chapter 7
T wo Weeks Later
Blake, Paige, and her best friend Taylor had made Burn Central their Thursday ritual.
Between clinical rotations and endless study sessions, Blake had promised herself she’d make time for more self-care this semester.
Sure, nursing school consumed most of her life, but scrolling mindlessly through TikTok recipes and binging “Harlem” wasn’t doing anything for her energy levels.
Plus, if she was being honest with herself, a certain someone had her wanting to show up as her best self lately.
Emon Dowlen had crashed into her life, quite literally, and now she found herself thinking about him at the most random moments. Like now, stretched out on her purple yoga mat, still catching her breath from Maurice’s session.
She checked her phone to see if she had a message from him, and she did.
Emon: Hope Maurice didn’t kill you too bad today, baby.
The man had a way of occupying her thoughts, whether she was studying drug calculations or doing burpees. Not to mention, he was so attentive. His surprise visits, thoughtful texts, and that destructive smile of his had her both intrigued and fighting to maintain her composure.
“Earth to Blake.” Paige’s voice cut through her thoughts as she rolled over on her mat. “Girl, you got that smile on your face again.”
“Don’t play with me. I’ve smiled before him. You dragging it.”
“Not like this. Every time I talk to you, it’s ‘Emon brought me lunch’ or ‘Emon left flowers at my door.’”
It was giving hater, but Blake continued to listen and smile because the pressure had been applied and it wasn’t her fault Paige was still worried about her boyfriend in jail and Taylor was married to her high school sweetheart two days after graduating high school. Neither of them were in her shoes.
Taylor’s head snapped up from her phone. “Who is Emon, and why am I just now hearing about him?”
“Because you’ve been in Denver for weeks.” Blake laughed, pulling her hair into a messy bun on top of her head. “And he’s not my man... yet. We’re just hanging out.”
“Just hanging out?” Paige scoffed. “Girl, he brought you that bougie couch you wanted and took you to brunch, brought you lunch, answers your text, and made it clear he’s plotting on you heavy.”
Blake couldn’t help but tilt her shoulder in a and so type of way.
“That sounds like you got yourself a man to me. Who and how?”
“He got shot and accidentally came to my house on some back alley doctor-ish,” she whispered, not wanting any of the listening, judging ears to hear her and be in her business.
“And tell her what else,” Paige said, taking a sip of her water.
“And I patched him up and didn’t call the police. He’s been coming by kicking it for like a little while now. It’s not anything serious, yet.”
“Yet. She wants that man bad and I don’t blame her.”
“Meanwhile,” Taylor started, her voice taking on that gossipy tone Blake knew too well, “Dr. Cameron been watching you like a hawk during your rotations. I saw him looking all kinds of interested when you were presenting your patient cases. You don’t need a criminal as a boyfriend.”
The judgment call was coming from inside the house, and it was Taylor.
It was partly why she hadn’t already told her.
It wasn’t like they hadn’t talked. They were always in the group chat on bullshit.
Blake didn’t need anybody judging her or trying to sway her mind, so she had kept her mouth shut besides Paige.
“Here comes Judge Judy,” Paige joked while stifling a laugh. “Don’t nobody want a man that looks interested and ain’t making no moves.”
“No big facts. You can judge all you want, but Emon’s making it hard for the next. It’s like I’m always on his mind. Plus, you don’t know anything about him,” she gushed.
“I’m just saying, what if something else happens, and you get caught in the crossfire?
I watch First 48 .” Again, they had to stifle a laugh.
Taylor was such a damn square, and it was cute, but they just didn’t mesh on certain things at times.
Because life was meant to be lived. Blake kinda hated that her friend didn’t get to experience college life single or grow into her own person.
“I lowkey don’t even care. It’s not like it’s not something I’m familiar with.”
“Just saying, though, your dad probably rolling over in his grave right now.”
“You know what?” Blake stood up abruptly, stuffing her yoga mat in her bag. “I think I’m done for today.”
“Blake, wait—” Taylor started, realizing too late she’d crossed a line.
“Nah, you don’t get to bring my daddy into this.
You don’t know what he would’ve wanted. I almost knocked you upside the head for saying that.
” Her voice was steady, but her hands shook as she gathered her things.
“And for the record? My father taught me to trust my own judgment, not everybody else’s opinions. The fuck you thought?”
Paige shot Taylor a sharp look before following Blake. “Girl, don’t let her get to you.”
“I’m good,” Blake said, but her quick steps toward the exit said otherwise.
Twenty minutes later, Blake pulled into her apartment complex, still working through her anger.
Her father’s memory wasn’t some card people got to play when they wanted to make her doubt herself.
As she turned into her parking spot, she noticed a black Dodge Charger SRT waiting, bumping “Boss Affirmations” by Payroll Giovanni.
She smiled a little and felt lighter just by seeing him.
“Hellcats, SRTs, nigga come pull up on me,” she rapped the Sexxy Red lyrics with a smirk, stepping out of the car. Not my life a Sexxy Red verse, she thought. “A mess.”
Emon leaned outside of his car, looking too fine in dark jeans and a fitted white tee, but his easy smile faded the moment he saw her expression.
“Who I gotta handle?” he asked as she got closer.
No ‘hey baby’ or flirty comment. He read her mood instantly and was ready to call the calvary in to handle what needed to be handled.
Her smile was the reason he was here. He needed to see it.
It was his guilty pleasure every day. He’d take care of business with her on his mind all day until he couldn’t stand it anymore.
He either pulled up or FaceTimed her, it was like clockwork.
Blake shook her head, fighting unexpected tears, thinking back to Taylor. She honestly just may have been tired or dramatic and took her friend’s words too seriously. “It’s nothing.”
“Nah,” he said softly, closing the distance between them. “That ain’t nothing on your face. And you ain’t gotta tell me, but don’t tell me it’s nothing when I see it’s something.”
Blake looked up at him, taking in the concern etched across his features. Something in her chest loosened, seeing how he could read her so well already. She didn’t know why she’d lied to him when her irritation wore her like a fur coat.
“Just friend drama.” She sighed, leaning against his car. “Brought up my dad in a way I didn’t appreciate. I can’t stand when a bitch takes things too far.”
Emon didn’t rush to speak, just moved to stand beside her, their shoulders touching. The simple contact grounded her.
“Your best friend Taylor, right? The one that’s been in Denver?” When Blake nodded, he continued. “Let me guess. She got opinions about me?”
“How’d you know?”
“Because good friends worry,” he said, turning to face her. “And because I’m sure at first glance, I look exactly like what your daddy wouldn’t want for his baby.”
“You don’t know what my daddy would’ve wanted,” Blake said, echoing her words from earlier but softer now. She was sick of hearing what her dad would’ve wanted. He wasn’t here to tell her that or them.
“True, but I know what I want.” He reached for her hand, intertwining their fingers.
Despite her mood, Blake felt a smile tugging at her lips. “What’s that?”
“To see you smile again.”
“Corny,” she joked as they laughed together.
“Nah, for real, you hungry? I was gonna surprise you with dinner, but...” he pulled her gently from the car, “not if you gon be pouting all night. The night calls for good food, laughs, and a good time sponsored by me.”
Blake let out a small laugh, squeezing his rough yet tender hand. “That’s your professional medical opinion?”
“Nah, that’s my ‘I’m feeling a way about somebody making my girl sad’ opinion.” He led her toward the side of his car, then paused. “Unless you need some alone time? I can respect dat too.”
The question was genuine. No pressure. No guilt. Just understanding and space if she needed it. And that, more than anything, told Blake exactly why her friends’ opinions couldn’t shake what was building between them.
“A night out sounds perfect,” she said, “but Emon?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m not your girl yet,” she teased, some of her usual spark returning.
He grinned, flashing that smile that had been occupying her thoughts all day. “Don’t remind me, and yet being the key word, love.”
“Yeah, yeah, and how was your day? I feel like you give all the whatever this is, and I don’t know, maybe I don’t give it back enough.”
“Why you tripping? A nigga ain’t keeping score.
We good, and I’m a man. Your soon to be man.
This little shit ain’t nothing. Chill,” he said, tapping her on the ass.
He bit his bottom lip, almost drawing blood, watching it move in her orange workout set.
The orange looked so good against her skin.
He’d never met anyone that made orange look as good as his future wife did.
“Well, did I get a gift, too, or is your presence the gift? You never come empty-handed.”
He spoiled her, and he didn’t mind at all.
In fact, he wanted to give her her heart’s desire.
It was simple. Nothing she could ask of him would be too much, and she was probably sick of hearing it, but she had saved his life.
He couldn’t ask anything else of her other than to stop keeping him at bay.
“You spoiled as shit. Look in the back!”
Blake opened the car door and removed the gift bag.
She had grown to expect something from him.
Sometimes it was small, like a new set of her favorite study pens, or sometimes it was big, like a Chanel bag.
She could never tell and she liked that.
She removed the paper from the bag and found an Orange Stanley cup full of Stanley Cup accessories and a Pandora bracelet with all the nursing charms he could find.
“You ain’t have that joint yet, huh?”
“Nope, and I love it,” she said, jumping into his arms and planting a kiss on his lip.
He caught her, allowing his hands to rest on the cuff of her ass.
He grinned because he was knocking whatever walls she had up down, and hoping to knock some others down soon.
This was the first time she had kissed him.
His heart fluttered and danced, forcing him to turn around, smashing her back against the window of his car.
He looked at her for a while before he kissed her again, but deeper, stronger, longer until she moaned into his mouth. That stopped him right in his tracks.
“Watch that moaning shit. Fuck around and have yo’ ass bent over in broad daylight, giving your neighbors a show.”
He thought Blake was a baddie. The baddest, to be honest, and she smelled like heaven, even after the gym. She could cook. She was funny and smart. She was all the things he couldn’t wait to take home to his mama, but he was trying to slow it down himself.
“I’ll be back to pick you up for dinner. Seven p.m. Cool?”
“Yes,” she said breathlessly. Emon took control but wasn’t controlling, and she loved that about him. She didn’t have to wait or plan anything. He was already ahead of her, anticipating her needs and her wants. Even with that, he still checked her temperature before anything was set in stone.
He backed away slowly, like it physically pained him to create distance between them. “Aight then, go study or whatever you need to do. I know you got that big test coming up.”
Blake was touched that he remembered. She’d only mentioned it in passing during their last phone call. “You paying attention to me, huh?”
“More than you know, love,” he said, reaching the driver’s side of his car but still leaning into the open door. “By the way, wear something nice tonight. I’m taking you somewhere special after dinner.”
“Special how?” she asked, still feeling the ghost of his kiss on her lips.
“You’ll see.” That smile again. “Just know I got plans for you, Blake Bishop.”
As she watched him get into his car, she couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, she had plans for him, too. The kind of plans that would let him do whatever he wanted to do with her, to her, for however long he desired. Because he was giving perfect for her.
She touched her lips, still tingling from their kiss, and smiled. Seven o’clock couldn’t come fast enough.