Page 41 of Curvy Girl Summer

“Um—”

He shook his head. “Off the top of your head. Don’t think about it,” he demanded quickly. “How are you going to know?”

“Because he’s going to look at me, know what I want, and take care of it,” I answered honestly.

My stomach swirled as I imagined how it would feel to be seen in that way.

Ahmad held my gaze.

I inhaled and exhaled in time with him as we stared at each other over the bar. I felt him assessing me and my answer. Hissilence met my vulnerability, and even though it made me a little uncomfortable, I couldn’t look away.

The sound of his name being called pulled us from the moment. He licked his lips and leaned toward me. “Ohhh, okay”—he nodded—“you want a mind reader.”

Rolling my eyes, I held in a laugh. “You’re such an ass! I’m not looking for a mind reader. I’m looking for a man who can read me.”

Snickering, he glanced to some people flagging him down. “Don’t leave yet,” he ordered, moving down to take some more orders.

I waited a couple of minutes, and then my phone vibrated.

Mom.

Sliding off the stool, I tried to catch Ahmad’s eye. He was busy, so I jotted down a note on the napkin that was near my drink.

See you next Friday. Thank you.

Turning on my heel, I answered my mother’s call. “Hey, Mom, I’m walking out of a bar. Everything okay?”

“Everything is perfectly fine! I just called to say hi. I just got in from Bible study with Liz. She told me the funniest thing! Marcus called her earlier this week and told her that he’s taking classes this fall—at Hamilton University!”

“Oh, wow, that’s what’s up.”

“That’s your alma mater!”

Smiling, I shook my head. “Yes, I know…”

7

Checking my watch, I rushed across the street before the light changed. My black-and-white-striped dress blew in the wind as I hopped up onto the sidewalk. I wasn’t running late for my date, but I was hoping to get to Onyx before the Friday-night crowd showed up.

“Well, if it isn’t the Hamburglar,” Ahmad greeted me when I walked into the empty bar.

I stopped in my tracks.

For fifteen long seconds, I just glared at him. He had the biggest shit-eating grin on his face, and his big, brown eyes danced. With narrowed eyes, I bottled up the laughter that threatened to burst out of me.

“I think I hate you,” I said finally, forcing my feet toward him.

“You know you love me,” he returned with a smirk.

My stomach fluttered unexpectedly. “I don’t.”

“And you know that was funny!”

“You’re a clown.” I climbed up on the barstool. “If it wasn’t too late to meet this guy somewhere else, I’d walk right out of here.”

“Like you did last Friday?”

“What?”

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