Page 12 of This: Blake & Emon

“What are your non-negotiables?” he asked, pulling her legs into his lap. He seemed genuinely intrigued by her mind and her thoughts. She was different from what he was used to and what he’d dealt with as recently as a year ago. Her intelligence challenged him in ways that made him want to be better, know more, and understand deeper.

“Like deal breakers? Red flags?” She thought for a moment before lifting her pointer finger. “Lying. I can handle a lot, but don’t lie to me. No one owes me a lie. Abuse of any kind, not standing for it. You put your hands on me and you better tell your mama to bring her good wig out. And I need someone who understands my ambitions. Whatever those may be. I want to work, I want to climb higher, and I need that to be ok.”

His fingers traced patterns on her ankle while he listened. “What else?”

“Your turn first. I answered first.”

“Aight. Loyalty. That’s number one. Can’t stand a sneaky woman or person. And I need someone who can stand on their own but still let me take care of them.” His eyes met hers. “Someone who sees me for who I am, not what I can give them.”

“Like how you took care of my car today?” she teased.

“Exactly like that. Now finish your list.”

“I need good communication. And...” she hesitated.

“And?”

“And I need to know that whatever happened that day won’t happen again. I can’t fall for someone just to lose them to the streets.”

He was quiet for a moment, his hand stilling on her ankle. “I meant what I said. That life ain’t me anymore. I got too much to lose now.”

The way he looked at her when he said it made her heart skip. They both knew he wasn’t just talking about his business, but it didn’t need to be said out loud. He didn’t need a title or torush her. Being in this space with him was easy, like a Sunday morning.

“Dreams?” she asked, wanting to pry into his brain a bit.

“Nope, don’t have any. Just go get it or do it.”

“That oddly makes sense. Hmm. Let me find out you’re a philosopher or something.”

“Kids?” he asked.

“Plenty. Why not fill a house with love?” He smiled at hearing that. He wanted a houseful, too. “Bodies?” she asked, joking as the doorbell rang. Emon laughed as he went to grab the pizza because no one had ever asked him that.

“Imma ignore that question because you trolling. Just know I know what I’m doing, baby,” he yelled to her while Blake grabbed plates, and he paid for the pizza. She came back, and they sat down and continued the night.

“Dream car?” he asked, wiping his mouth.

“Old school Bronco, all black with the sparkles in the paint, big wheels, nice tires, leather interior.”

“That shit sound nice as hell. Might have to be on some His and Hers type shit.”

“Relax,” she said, pushing him back.

He grabbed her by the wrist, and it seemed like the world stopped for a second. He cleared his throat, allowing her hand to fall to her lap. “I should be getting out of here. You need some sleep.”

“Yeah, I do,” she agreed, torn because she didn’t want the night to end, but he was right—she was tired. Now that she had showered and eaten, her bed called her name. Emon understood and made his way to the door. “Hey, thanks for today.”

“You’re welcome. Get some sleep. I’ll hit you when I make it in or tomorrow.”

“No, I’ll wait up. Text me, call me, or you know, whatever,” she said fumbling with her fingers.

“Ok.” He chuckled. “I got you, but it’s cool if you fall asleep on me.”

“I won’t.”

She leaned in for a hug, and he received her with open arms but kept it brief. She was afraid that if their bodies stayed connected too long, she would end up bent over the arm of her new couch.

As she closed the door behind him, Blake leaned against it, clenched her thighs together, and smiled. Whatever this was becoming, it felt right, and that scared her almost as much as it excited her.

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