Love Between the Pages – by Rae Shawn #2
Since I’d grown up in wine country, I’d always had to schedule trips to LA whenever I wanted to visit—they pretty much never happened.
It was an eight-plus hour drive I couldn’t commit to more often than not, no matter how much I wanted to.
I was ready to go to the beaches, get some bomb ass Mexican and Chinese food, attend all the interesting events and visit every museum I could find—at least twice.
I’d intended to do that as time progressed, not immediately. However, coming to this event today and meeting Darius had been as inviting as chocolate lava cake, and I could eat that all day every day and never get tired of it.
Darius
As we stood in line, the scent of her vanilla and amber perfume flooded my nostrils for what had to be the hundredth time.
When Emani had initially approached me at the speed networking during the “Meet the Librarians” rounds, I’d thought she was beautiful.
I was there to work and have conversations about innovators, though, so our initial chat was brief.
Catching up with her at the end had been a hope and a dream.
Seeing her flipping open a book about the Harlem Renaissance and the other movements that were simultaneously happening around the country had been the best way to spark a conversation.
I could talk about authors and musicians from back then ad nauseam.
She shifted her head to meet my gaze, a soft smile lifting the corners of her mouth.
“You know what you want?” I asked. “My treat.”
She nodded. “You don’t have to pay for me,” she said, her attention going back to the menu scrawled on a white board and propped up against the side of the food truck. “I’m kind of in the mood for tripas and lingua.”
I chuckled, ignoring the burning desire to make a completely inappropriate comment about her guts and tongue meat choices. Instead, I nodded and licked my lips. Emani’s eyes fell to the action before she looked back at the menu once more.
“Averie said the mango agua fresca is good. Is that the flavor I should stick with?” she asked. “My go-to is usually strawberry or cucumber.”
“If you like mango, you should try it,” I said. “I usually get honeydew or Jamaica.”
She nodded as we stepped closer to the cashier. Only one person remained in front of us.
“Also, I will pay for your meal as a welcome to the city gift.”
Emani lifted her gaze to me once more, grinning. “Ok. Thank you, Darius.”
After we placed our order, we stepped to the side to wait with the crowd of others. “So, I don’t think we ever got around to it, but why Altadena of all the places to teach? Not that I’m complaining.”
Emani chuckled. “I taught high school up in Napa Valley. I grew up there. It’s beautiful, it’s fun, and it’s rich with a certain type of culture, but I wanted to experience something that focused more on the arts,” she said.
“A lot of schools home in on science, math, electronics and technology but forget about how amazing the arts can also be.”
I nodded and shifted toward her more, crossing my arms as I listened.
“I taught art history to eleventh graders. At that point, they kind of already had an idea of what they wanted to do, and my class was an elective that was available that most ended up in,” she said.
“I needed to be somewhere that honored the arts more and started a curriculum for kids earlier so they could figure out sooner if they wanted to pursue further education on that path, you know?”
I blew out a breath as my head bobbed. “Yeah, I had similar experiences here for a while. Becoming a librarian with a library science degree isn’t people’s first idea for a job path.”
She tilted her head, her lips pulling up as if she were thinking about it, then she nodded. “So, are you from Altadena or are you a transplant, too?”
“Born and raised. My grandparents were one of the first wealthy Black families, moving here in the ’60s and making something from nothing after all the redlining made buying and owning homes hard everywhere else.
They had a little grocery store, and my parents opened a coffee shop and barbershop in the late ’70s.
” I smiled, a warmth filling my chest. “I love Los Angeles, don’t get me wrong, but the vibe here is immaculate.
It’s different from Baldwin Hills where the majority of the other ‘rich’ Black people are.
I’m not shitting on them, but the community assistance and support just feels like something else here. ”
Emani’s eyes sparkled. “That was one of the reasons I chose Butler over some of the other STEM programs in LA County,” she said.
“Looking up the history here and the mutual aid and community involvement was extremely inviting. I hadn’t really ever visited here the few times I drove down because … well, LA County is huge.”
I grinned. “That it is.”
One of the food truck staff called my name, and I went to grab our order.
There unfortunately wasn’t any seating, so the plan was to either eat at our vehicles as we chatted or head home.
Emani took the drinks from me before we headed for our cars parked down the street.
I stopped beside her passenger door, the bag of food in hand.
“Um, if you want, my place is about five minutes from here.”
She raised a brow, a grin barely suppressed. “I know Averie said you’re cool people, but is going home with you such a smart idea? Tacos at a food truck is one thing, but the privacy of your home is another.”
I cleared my throat. I was absolutely attracted to this woman.
Not just her physical appearance, but what I’d experienced of her intelligence and personality.
Her wild coils that hung down to her collarbone and framed her face were cute.
The beauty mark beside her right nostril had caught my eyes several times.
What I assumed was a birthmark on her neck leading beneath her t-shirt made me wonder how large the patch of darker skin was.
The way she quirked her lips when she seemed to be thinking something provocative drew me in.
How her eyes lit up when she talked about painters, writers, and sculptors was cute.
I hadn’t really been attracted to anyone in this way in a while.
I’d seen plenty of physically appealing people, but none I wanted to know more about.
“I’m not inviting you over for the promise or expectation of anything,” I said. “I know we just met, but well, I’m enjoying talking to you. Don’t want to come off as the creepy dude. If you want to head home instead, I completely understand.”
She seemed to be mulling it over, her lips tugged to one side, effectively shutting one of her eyes as she looked me over.
“Ok. I’ll come over, but only after I send my location to my sister, plus a photo of you and your full name.”
I smiled and set the bag of food on the top of her car before pulling out my wallet to grab my driver’s license. “This has my address on it, plus my full name. You can take a picture of my license plate too, if that makes you feel more comfortable.”
She snapped a photo of the license, then of me holding it beside my face, and finally the back bumper of my car.
After tapping her phone screen several times, she glanced at me as she lifted the device to her ear.
“Hey, I made a friend. I’m going to his house for tacos.
If I don’t call you in a few hours, you have his information. ”
There was a pause, and I chuckled, completely understanding the desire for safety—and the bluntness of her letting me know she wasn’t playing.
“Yeah, well a new coworker said he’s cool, but I’ve only known her for about a week, so can’t be too careful.” Her neck gained a rosy hue. “Yes he is, but I’m not answering the other question. Bye, Koree.”
Once Emani hung up, she tugged at her shirt collar and cleared her throat. “No offense to you, but I am new to town. I gotta consider the possibility that things could go sideways, although I’m ninety-five percent certain they won’t. That five-percent chance is more than enough, though.”
“I get it. Especially with the way things sometimes happen in this country.” I grabbed the bag of food from the top of her car. “Your sister … is she older?”
Emani chuckled. “Yeah, and a cop.”
I found myself matching her laughter. “Understood. Follow me.”
She nodded and placed the drinks in the cup holders before walking around to her driver’s door. A handful of minutes later, I directed her to park in the driveway behind me after I climbed out of my car in the garage. She walked up a moment later.
“I figured you wouldn’t want to put your car inside with mine.”
She chuckled. “Quick escape, in case.”
“This night won’t end like a suspense, thriller, or horror, I promise.” I winked and guided us into the house before hitting the button to lower the garage door.
“What if I’ve tricked you and you don’t know you’ve fallen into my trap?”
“That’s a possibility.” I pointed from over her shoulder toward an opening up the hall. “I’d be completely at your mercy, though, since I want you here.”
She coughed out a laugh and entered the dining room. I set the food down, pulling out our tacos and my burrito as well as the sides.
“You can wash your hands in the bathroom right over there.” I waved toward a door just off the hall and went to use the sink in the kitchen to clean my hands before meeting her back at the table.
We were silent through the beginning of the meal, but I watched as she ate her tacos appreciatively, a couple of soft moans of approval falling from her lips.
“So, what’s the verdict?” I asked around a bite of my carnitas burrito.
Emani swallowed and sipped her drink.
“It’s really good; juicy and well-seasoned. I do quite enjoy meat that exceeds my expectations.” She smirked when my brows raised. “The last good tripas I had was at a little cart down in Monterey Park a handful of years ago.”