Page 20 of Smoke

Smoke, another unpredictable, impossible to read, patronizing walking penis. But Jesus, there’s something about him that wakes up and shakes up a need in me that I haven’t felt in a long time.

Lean, yet not void of muscle. Hair, long with an unruly wave that falls untamed around his handsome face. A face that is almost too pretty on a man but still masculine with his sultry brown eyes, nose that is narrow at the top, fleshy at the bottom and lips so full that they would make any female jealous and run to seek fillers. He is fucking hot. Tempted, I sure am, but even thinking of going there is one humongous mistake.

Smoke is the type that chews women up, takes what he needs and then spits them out without the slightest bit of remorse.

Been there. Done that. I still have the scars on my heart to remind me that falling for a tattooed bad boy would be bad for my health.

Yet, here I was getting more involved than I should, but I’m pretty sure that this is something I need to do to ensure my survival.

Once I’ve rinsed the soap from my hair, I go at it with the conditioner. While I let that soak into the strands and do its magic, I lather up my body using what’s left of the Sea Breeze body wash with honeysuckle and vanilla tones. I like to try different gels; this one might actually be a firm favorite. It reminds me of happier times when I was a young child, carefree and family vacations at the beach. That’s how my young mind liked to replay it.However, I’m not totally clueless. As an adult, I have come to realize that cracks were visible in my parent’s relationship, but my young, innocent eyes back then didn’t see it.

When our family life eventually shattered, I turned into an obnoxious brat, and although I made my then-separated parent’s lives a living hell, the target that took most of my petty anger and hurt was poor Oriana. Even when I came to understand the truth, that my parent’s marriage was well and truly over before my stepmother was ever on the scene, I was too deep into the hole of hate that I didn’t know how to crawl out of it. So, I did the only thing that I could. I took myself out of the equation and left.

I step under the water and let it wash away all the remaining products from my hair and body. I let go of the memories of all my wrongs too and let them disappear down the drain. One thing’s for sure, I need a clear head for when I make the call that I perceive deep in my gut, it’s going to change my life for the better or worse. I’m just hoping it’s the former.

With one towel wrapped around my head and another around my body, I lean over to where Alfie has been sitting, watching me from the top of the linen basket, and tickle him behind his ear. As soon as I go to walk back into the bedroom, he follows me, jumps back up onto the bed and circles around in the same spot until he finally curls up like a cinnamon roll. I take my personal phone, from where I’d left it charging last night on the side table. I go sit at the bottom edge of the bed so as not to disturb him enough that he realizes it’sbreakfast time and starts meowing like a starved alley cat.

I take a deep breath in, the subtle shake of my hand unmissable as I scroll through my contacts until I find his number. It’s not difficult to find as I don’t have that many numbers on my phone and it’s under Vanilla Guy.

One thing suddenly occurs to me. He’d not rang the number he’d imputed, which would then have given him my contact info. Had he just been messing with me, and the number he’d given me was fake? Only one way to find out for sure.

I ring it.

The call rings out but then goes to the usual ‘unable to take your call at this time’ response. It’s a real number, at least. I try it again only to get the same response.

“Oh well, that’s that then,” I mumble to myself. I drop my phone onto the bed beside me, get to my feet and, with the towel around my torso, I dry myself off. While the remaining towel safely protected my hair, I grab a bottle of lotion and rub it into my neck and shoulders, leaving my skin feeling warm, smooth, and hydrated.

I’m about to start on my legs when my phone buzzes and vibrates. I flip the top closed on the bottle, and place it next to the phone, quickly wipe my hands on my discarded towel that’s leaving the bed quilt damp, and then snatch up the handset.

“Hello,” I answer nervously after seeing Vanilla Guy flash on my screen.

“Butter pecan, how the devil are you?” his distinctive deep accent sweeps into my ear and makes me shiver.

“I’m well… thank you.” I quickly snatch the towel off the bed and hold it up against me as if he can see me through the phone. “How did you know it was me?”

“Would you believe me if I tell you I’d said a little prayer that it was the sexy ice cream woman when an unknown number flashed up,” he croons.

“Not for one minute,” I laugh, unable to stop myself from his cheesy, yet remarkably hot response.

“You of little faith,” he sighs. “I swear to you on my mammy’s life, it’s the truth. I’m glad you rang. What made ya?”

“I… I,” I’m really unprepared for this conversation. For someone who is eloquent when putting words down on paper, has the ability most times to squeeze a story out of the most reluctant of interviewees, as with Smoke, he also has me grasping for conversation. “There’s a new diner opened up a few doors down from the grocery store. Rumor has it they serve the best sundaes and as you seem to be a lover of ice cream as am I, I thought you might want to join me. But if it’s not…”

“When?” he asks before I’ve even given him an option to bale.

“You free later today?” I ask tentatively.

“Can you be there in about an hour?”

“Geez Louise,” I scoff. “What’s the rush?”

“There’s no time like the present and besides, I’ve had to wait for a fair few days for yah to finally give into my Irish charm and called me. I don’t want to wait any longer.”

“If you make it two hours, it’s a date.” I gasp at myslip-up. “I didn’t mean date as in date, romantic date. I meant as in date and time, friends meeting, you know.”

“Ah, don’t you be crushing my hopes now, love,” he sighs as if I’ve hurt his feelings. “I know the diner you’re referring to, D’s on Darian Street. I’ll see you there.” He cuts the call before another word passes my lips.

“Arrogant ass,” I squeal out, making Alfie jump out of his skin. “Sorry buddy.” I scoop him up into my arms and pepper the top of his head with kisses. “You’ve been such a patient boy this morning. Let’s get you fed so I can make myself look good because you know what, Alfie boy. I’ve got myself a date.”

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