Page 206 of Lovers' Dance

“Explain that to me, because you’re making absolutely no sense.”

“I should wrap my hair up when I sleep, but I don’t want to freak you out or anything.” I tried to ignore the flush creeping up his cheeks. Was it embarrassment or was he getting annoyed? “It’s not all that bad. A lot of the times the sheets are satin, but it’s the Egyptian cotton. Those pillowcases are—” I stopped when he held a hand up.

“Take that off your con list. It’s not my fault you’re not taking the best care of your curls. You should know better, poppet. Moisture is absolutely key when it comes to the black hair type, and you wear it loose often, which dries it out. You should use more protective hairstyles, like that lovely French braid you did today. Not too tight, thus avoiding undue tension on the hair shaft—” Matt stopped. My mouth was hanging open now. He looked away for a second, then gave me a sheepish smile.

I blinked slowly, then asked, “How do you know that, Matt?”

“You’re my girlfriend, so I researched it,” he said. “Let’s move on. What’s your next con, poppet?”

I glanced at my list. “You work too hard.”

“As do you,” Matt countered. “But we both love our careers, we’re both driven people, so I think our hardworking ethos should be a pro. By applying that very tenet to our relationship, I know we can overcome any differences.”

It was no wonder Matt got whatever he desired. My man had a smooth tongue and an impressive way with words.

“Tenet, eh?” I drawled. “Can’t say I’ve heard many people use that definition of an established principle.”

Matt beamed at me. “I hope you’ve noted on your pro list that I’m intelligent.”

I nodded, showing him the proof, then also underlined the word ‘arrogant’ before scribbling ‘smug’ next to it.

He chuckled lightly and said, “That I am. Wait, why do you have this as a con?” He stabbed his pen at the words ‘different races’. It was the top of my cons.

I gave him an incredulous stare. “Don’t you have it on your list as a con too?”

“No,” Matt said, grey eyes glinting with growing anger. “I don’t.”

“Wait.” I held a hand up. “Don’t tell me you’ve put it down as a pro? Come on, Matt. The fact I’m black and you’re white is a major—”

“Major nothing,” he interrupted coldly. “I have not listed it at all, Madison. You’re black, I’m white. As you like to say: It is what it is. Our phenotypes aren’t going to change, so I don’t consider it to be a factor.”

I balanced the pen on the pad and rubbed my temples slowly. “Matt, hon, be serious. Of course it’s an issue—”

“Why?” he asked tersely. “Why does it have to be an issue? We’re all human. We both breathe, eat, sleep, shit, live and die the same. I want you to scratch that off right now.”

I exhaled loudly. “Firstly, you are never, ever, ever to allude to my bowel movements. That’s wrong. Secondly—” I held a hand out for his. He hesitated before taking it, but he did slip his fingers over mine. “Secondly, I know you don’t like dwelling on it. I know it makes you uncomfortable, but you can’t ignore the fact that our racial differences can and will play a big role in our relationship.”

Matt tried to tug his hand away, but I held on. He sighed in frustration and said, “I’m not ignoring it, poppet. I’ve done research and I’m fully aware of—”

“Research?” I interrupted. Curiosity grew inside me. Exactly what research had he done? “What sort of research?”

“Mainly about interracial relationships, but also about the historical and current underlying racial tension in the States, which I need to mention does not occur over here in England.”

I dropped my hold on his hand. “You meant to say it does not occur to the same degree, right? It’s not as out in the open over here, but it does happen. You can admit to that, right?”

Matt stared at me. We were in a stare-off battle, and I was not going to lose this freaking time around. He couldn’t be serious. He had to acknowledge that racism was alive and kicking. In his beloved England.

I felt my gaze start to waver under his unflinching look, but I strengthened my resolve and maintained the stare.Dude better back the hell down.

“All right, poppet,” he agreed slowly, averting his eyes for a second before they found mine again. “You’re absolutely right. I know it exists, but it’s nowhere near as virulent as in the States. It’s different over here—”

“Look, Matt, I don’t want to get into it with you. I need you to be prepared for my family.” I inhaled deeply, glad I had won the stare-off, but apprehensive over Matt’s reaction to what I was about to tell him. “My aunt is a firm believer of the continued prosperity of the black family, and I agree with her on some level. You have to understand the dynamics of the black identity and, yes, I’m referring to African-Americans in this instant. As a people, we are vilified, especially our men. I mean, look at what’s been happening in the States recently! It’s so messed up. And, then, you have the crazy black men who turn on black women, which is bullshit. I mean, how can you hate on black women when you came from a black woman? The thing that really pisses me off, is the persistent stereotypes being fed to people about our race on a whole. No one wants to praise all those black families who love each other, work hard to make a life for themselves. Oh, no. You only hear about the single family unit, where the woman’s on welfare popping out babies, and the man’s out committing crime. It’s bullshit, Matt. You have those kinds of people in all races, yet the black race is the one people point at and say: ‘What else do you expect from them?’” I rubbed my forehead vigorously before continuing. Jesus Christ. I was ranting like some of my aunt’s and uncle’s friends. I needed to reel things back and phrase my thoughts in such a manner he could understand without taking offense. “Take us for example—”

Matt leaned back and folded his arms: typical, defensive body stance.

“When some people look at us, they’ll see a white man taking what shouldn’t be his—”

“Bollocks,” Matt said. “That’s the biggest load of bollocks I have ever heard you say, Madi.”

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