Page 109 of Curvy Girl Summer

He made a face. “That was a dig at my wrinkled shirt, huh? You always got shit to say.”

My eyes widened. “Me?! That’s literally you! In the time that I’ve known you, not a day has gone by without you commenting on my outfits.”

“I didn’t say anything about you coming in here dressed likeThe Omen.”

It took me a second, and then I burst out laughing. “Okay, Lil’ Kim.”

“Come on. Let’s go. I’m hungry.”

I stopped by my apartment to drop off my shirt, and then we were on our way.

We joked our way out of our building and up a couple of blocks to a little hole-in-the-wall restaurant called Miss Mama’s.

“When did they start serving brunch?” I wondered as we walked in the door.

“They’ve been doing it all summer,” Ahmad told me before he asked the hostess for a table for two.

As soon as we sat down, we reviewed the menu and then ordered.

“Your chicken last night must not have been like that if you’re ordering chicken this morning, too,” he pointed out.

“For somebody whose chicken is definitely not better than mine, you have a lot to say.”

“Who taught you how to cook?”

“My grandma. Who taught you?”

“My mom.”

I tilted my head to the side. “Will your mom be disappointed with you when she finds out my chicken kicked your chicken’s ass?”

“Yoooo, what is wrong with you?” He snickered, shaking his head. “You know, you’re pretty funny. You dress nice. You’re smart. You’re beautiful. I can’t understand why you can’t get a second date.”

My jaw dropped. “That was a low blow.”

He sat there with a self-satisfied grin.

I pointed at him. “You’re proud of that, aren’t you? You shouldn’t be.”

We spent the entire brunch going back and forth. And after the seriousness of our conversation in his apartment, the uninterrupted good time was welcome. It wasn’t until the waitress brought the check that it became a little awkward.

“One check or two?” the waitress asked.

“One,” Ahmad answered.

At the exact same time, I said, “Two.”

The waitress looked between us and then just slowly placed the bill on the table and walked away.

“I got this,” Ahmad offered, checking the total before placing his card down.

“You should let me pay,” I argued. “I popped up at your place unannounced and delayed your brunch. Let me pay.”

“No, I got you. I invited you to eat, so I’m paying.”

“Ahmad.”

“Aaliyah.”

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