Page 29 of Continuum

“I was in shock, honestly. I just stood there for a minute and when she finally noticed I was there, she just grinned up at me like that shit was fire. Eli’s dumb ass started hyping her up and calling her Lil Whit.”

My head fell back, and my shoulders bounced as I imagined how that scene played out.

“So, I asked what was going on and she said that they asked what she liked to do on the weekend. And instead of telling them, she just started rapping to my employer.” He blinked at me with a blank expression on his face. “She. Started. Rapping.”

I waved my hand in the air as I snickered. “Stop it!”

“Elliot Simmons, my boss, actually got up and left. Swear to God. He left the table and never came back.”

The waiter came by and asked if we were okay and we both lost it. I couldn’t even get it together enough to answer. I covered my face with my hands to wipe the tears from my eyes and vaguely heard Kwame respond. When I was finally able to pull it together, I let out a loud amused sigh. “That was hilarious.”

“Okay, I told you about my worst. What about yours?”

I watched him as he put a forkful of food into his mouth and for a moment, I was distracted by the fork. I ripped my eyes from his lips. “Well, the first thing that comes to mind was when I was twenty-nine and still doing my corporate gig, I went on a date with a man who had great taste in music. We drove up to Philly for a concert and we had a good time. It was great. But then—”

Kwame clapped and then rubbed his hands together. “Here we go!”

My grin widened. “He turned on a song that I’d never heard of before and asked me my thoughts. I said I didn’t really care for it. He asked why and I could tell he was a little defensive about it, so I amended my answer and told him that the beat was okay, but the lyrics didn’t make any sense. The beat was actually kind of trash, too, but he was sensitive about his music and I wanted to spare his feelings.”

“Spare his feelings?” His eyebrows shot up. “You didn’t care if my feelings were hurt when you asked me the population mean of the math IQ of the frat. And when I said I didn’t know, you told me to find out and get them to help me with my homework if I had a problem with the work you asked me to do,” he joked.

I laughed, remembering the day I said that. “I still had two more hours until we made it back to Richland. And after standing and dancing all night at the concert, I was not about to have him put me out on the side of the road.”

“Good call.” He nodded. “What did he say?”

“He told me that I’d have to hear the whole album to get it. So, he played me histwenty-four-trackconcept album the entire way home. He didn’t say shit else to me. It was just us and that disaster project.”

“So you’re telling me you were tortured?”

“I’m telling you I survived a crime.”

We both laughed.

“Mine was worse though. I was held back from a big project because of Whitley’s stunt. I think that’s a crime.”

“I had some of the songs in my head for weeks,” I countered. “That’s emotional distress.”

He chuckled. “Well, I went on a date with a woman whose wig caught on fire when she put it too close to the candle.”

“Well, I went on a date with a man who ate too much and got diarrhea at the restaurant and sent me home in a car because he couldn’t leave the bathroom.”

“Oh shit!”

“Literally!”

We cackled.

Going back and forth, we made each other laugh as we recounted some of our worst date moments as we ate. It was such an easy banter between us. It felt like we were back in college. Those moments with us at the end of our study sessions just laughing and joking, talking and bonding were the moments that made me fall for him.

“So, what happened between you and Jayla?” I asked abruptly.

“Oh!” He chuckled under his breath, picking up his fork. “That came out of nowhere.”

“Did it?” I feigned confusion. “Because I thought we were talking about dating and you two dated so…”

He bit into his chicken and thought carefully. “Jayla and I broke up before graduation and that was that.”

“Yeah, but”—I froze— “wait, what?”

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