Page 75 of Curvy Girl Summer

She pointed again even though he was long gone. “You mean to tell me that you’ve been chatting it up with a man who looks like that, and you haven’t shot your shot? Or at least called me to come down to the bar with you so I can shoot mine?”

Amused, I shook my head. “He’s married.”

“Oh, I forgot you said he was ‘married’”—she did air quotes—“and therefore off the market. Damn shame. I didn’t know he looked like that. Mm-mm-mm.” She paused for a moment. “Is he happily married? Openly married?”

“Nina!”

“Fine! You got dibs. It’s only fair since you saw him first.”

I waved her off. “I’m not calling dibs on a married man.”

“I wouldn’t go after a married man, but a girl can still look. What’s the name of the bar again?”

I shook my head. “What is wrong with you?”

Before she could answer, the lights dimmed, and a strong voice pierced through the noisy crowd. Everyone went wild before quieting and enjoying the opening act. Even though I was enjoying the unknown performer’s vocalizations, I glanced toward the exit where I’d last seen Ahmad.

My mind kept filtering back to him—wondering where he’d disappeared to, wondering if the woman he was with was his wife, wondering if he got the backstage pass to meet India Davis. It hadn’t hit me how little I knew about his marriage. His drinking preferences, his favorite foods, his weird quirks, his dynamic with his friends, and his thoughts on various songs, I knew. We talked about life and laughed about everything, but I didn’t know much of anything about his romantic life.

Was the woman he was with his wife?

The thunderous applause at the end of India Davis’s set was well-earned and well deserved. She killed her performance. The entireshow was a good time, and I’d almost forgotten about the incident over our spot until we were leaving.

“If I didn’t just get my nails done, I would’ve slapped that bitch,” Nina commented loud enough for the woman to hear. When she glanced over her shoulder at us, Nina pointed. “Yes, you.”

It took everything in me not to laugh out loud. Because of Nina’s stature, some people found her intimidating. Nina talked shit, but she didn’t actually fight. She often described herself as a lover, not a fighter. And for as long as I’d known her, she had never so much as gotten angry enough to want to physically assault someone—which is why I was so amused by Nina’s posturing.

“—talking like you want me and my girl to address the situation outside,” Nina continued.

Snickering, I had to cover my mouth with my hand and turn my head.

While Nina chose not to fight, I was 100 percent certain I couldn’t fight. If anyone in our group was going to fight a battle, it would’ve been Jazz. But it was just us, and I didn’t know why she was starting stuff.

“You’re going to feel funny if that girl tries us in the parking lot,” I whispered, still laughing.

“I already have my phone out ready to call the police if she does,” she returned as we exited the building into the light drizzle.

The two of us cracked up.

“I thought I heard your laugh,” a deep voice commented just as we stepped onto the sidewalk. “It’s funny because I was just thinking about you.”

My stomach flipped, and I stopped in my tracks.

“Watch it!” a lady cried out as she bumped into me.

“Sorry,” I distractedly called over my shoulder as my eyes stayed locked on the man staring at me. My pulse quickened, and there was a distinct throb between my thighs. “Ahmad, hi!” Moving out of the way, I stood in front of him. “You were here?”

It was a dumb question. I knew it the moment the words left my mouth. But I was so caught off guard by his presence that it was the first thing that came to mind to say.

“No, I just hang around outside of venues and wait for people to come out,” he replied sarcastically.

“Ah,” Nina mused from beside me. “A parking lot pimp.”

“Exactly.” With a light chuckle, he popped open the umbrella in his hand and positioned it between me and Nina. “Here.”

Our fingers brushed as I took it from his grasp. The sensation spread through my entire body. His touch lit something within me, and I wasn’t expecting that. Ignoring the softness of the gesture and the way my stomach flipped, I squared my shoulders.

“I was just surprised to see you. I know you love India Davis, but in general, your taste is usually so questionable, I didn’t expect to see you,” I retorted, trying to recover from earlier.

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