Page 84 of Zimyra

“I’m not making any promises.”

“You don’t have to. I’ll throw you over my shoulder and take you to my car if I have to.”

“Okay. Fine.”

There’s that smug smirk again. It’s sort of growing on me.

When I hear a knock at the door, I know it’s him, but to be sure, I glance through the peephole. I grab my purse and open the door, immediately taking in his fit. He’s wearing black jeans today with a gray and black striped shirt and that black baseball cap again. He smells heavenly. He looks like a dream. Those striking features of his are on full display this morning, the same way they were behind my eyelids last night when he rocked me to sleep like a toddler.

“You look nice,” he tells me, eyeing me shamelessly from head to toe. After a long, hot shower, I put on a pair of jean capri pants with a camel-brown blouse and a pair of white sneakers. Gold hoops and bangles complete my outfit. I typically don’t get too dressed up if I’m not going anywhere special. I wear comfortable clothes. Life is meant to be lived, and I don’t plan on being uncomfortable while trying to do it. Besides, he said we need to spend some time in nature, so I imagine we’ll end up at a park or something.

He opens the passenger door of the Genesis for me and after I’m safely inside, he gets in and says, “I was thinking Granby Park.”

I look over at him, noticing he’s wearing sunglasses that look like they cost a small fortune. I look at his arm to see that he’s not wearing the watch today. And now, I can’t take my eyes off his arms. They’re just hairy enough to make my fingers twitch. I want to rub my fingertips along them. I want to feel them around me, but hadn’t I gotten enough of that last night?

No.

No, I did not.

The security I feel in his arms is unmatched to any feeling of safety I thought I had or had ever felt before. And he smells so good, I could just recline this seat, close my eyes, and chill right here in his whip with the sunroof open and all the windows down.

His large, muscular hands grip the steering wheel. I look at his face to see that he’s staring directly at me.

“What?” I ask.

“Is Granby Park okay?”

“Oh. Yes. That’s fine. They have nice trails.”

I grin to myself. I was so captivated by him, I didn’t even realize we were still sitting in the parking lot.

He puts Granby Park into his car’s navigation system and then reverses out of the parking space. I reach to turn on the radio to see what kind of music my thirty-six-year-old friend listens to. I notice it’s the local R&B station.

I say, “That’s your vibe?”

“I like all kinds of music. If I can vibe to it, I’m good. What about you?”

“Same. I lean more toward dark romantic music that makes you fall in love with the sound of it, yet you can feel the pain the artist tries to convey.”

He chuckles. “That sounds like you.”

I smile and say, “Don’t act like you know me.”

“I know enough.”

“Yet, I hardly know anything about you because when we’re together, all you want to talk about is me.”

“That’s only because you’re more interesting than I am.”

“Nah. I highly doubt that. It’s because you don’t want me to know therealyou.”

“You’re looking at the real me, Zimyra.”

“Am I?”

“You are.”

I doubt that very seriously, I think to myself as I pull down the visor to look in the mirror. I pull a tube of gloss out of my pocket and glide the wand across my lips, thinking about the real him. He’s a maintenance worker who drives an eighty-thousand dollar vehicle and rocks a pair of sunglasses that costs at least two hundred – maybe more. He had on a watch that cost more than what most people make in a year, and he truly thinks I believe that what he’s showing me is therealhim.

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