Page 14 of This: Blake & Emon

Paige shot Taylor a sharp look before following Blake. “Girl, don’t let her get to you.”

“I’m good,” Blake said, but her quick steps toward the exit said otherwise.

Twenty minutes later, Blake pulled into her apartment complex, still working through her anger. Her father’s memory wasn’t some card people got to play when they wanted to make her doubt herself. As she turned into her parking spot, she noticed a black Dodge Charger SRT waiting, bumping “Boss Affirmations” by Payroll Giovanni. She smiled a little and felt lighter just by seeing him.

“Hellcats, SRTs, nigga come pull up on me,”she rapped the Sexxy Red lyrics with a smirk, stepping out of the car.Not my life a Sexxy Red verse,she thought. “A mess.”

Emon leaned outside of his car, looking too fine in dark jeans and a fitted white tee, but his easy smile faded the moment he saw her expression.

“Who I gotta handle?” he asked as she got closer. No ‘hey baby’ or flirty comment. He read her mood instantly and was ready to call the calvary in to handle what needed to be handled. Her smile was the reason he was here. He needed to see it. It was his guilty pleasure every day. He’d take care of business with her on his mind all day until he couldn’t stand it anymore. He either pulled up or FaceTimed her, it was like clockwork.

Blake shook her head, fighting unexpected tears, thinking back to Taylor. She honestly just may have been tired or dramatic and took her friend’s words too seriously. “It’s nothing.”

“Nah,” he said softly, closing the distance between them. “That ain’t nothing on your face. And you ain’t gotta tell me, but don’t tell me it’s nothing when I see it’s something.”

Blake looked up at him, taking in the concern etched across his features. Something in her chest loosened, seeing how he could read her so well already. She didn’t know why she’d lied to him when her irritation wore her like a fur coat.

“Just friend drama.” She sighed, leaning against his car. “Brought up my dad in a way I didn’t appreciate. I can’t stand when a bitch takes things too far.”

Emon didn’t rush to speak, just moved to stand beside her, their shoulders touching. The simple contact grounded her.

“Your best friend Taylor, right? The one that’s been in Denver?” When Blake nodded, he continued. “Let me guess. She got opinions about me?”

“How’d you know?”

“Because good friends worry,” he said, turning to face her. “And because I’m sure at first glance, I look exactly like what your daddy wouldn’t want for his baby.”

“You don’t know what my daddy would’ve wanted,” Blake said, echoing her words from earlier but softer now. She was sick of hearing what her dad would’ve wanted. He wasn’t here to tell her that or them.

“True, but I know what I want.” He reached for her hand, intertwining their fingers.

Despite her mood, Blake felt a smile tugging at her lips. “What’s that?”

“To see you smile again.”

“Corny,” she joked as they laughed together.

“Nah, for real, you hungry? I was gonna surprise you with dinner, but...” he pulled her gently from the car, “not if you gon be pouting all night. The night calls for good food, laughs, and a good time sponsored by me.”

Blake let out a small laugh, squeezing his rough yet tender hand. “That’s your professional medical opinion?”

“Nah, that’s my ‘I’m feeling a way about somebody making my girl sad’ opinion.” He led her toward the side of his car, then paused. “Unless you need some alone time? I can respect dat too.”

The question was genuine. No pressure. No guilt. Just understanding and space if she needed it. And that, more than anything, told Blake exactly why her friends’ opinions couldn’t shake what was building between them.

“A night out sounds perfect,” she said, “but Emon?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m not your girl yet,” she teased, some of her usual spark returning.

He grinned, flashing that smile that had been occupying her thoughts all day. “Don’t remind me, and yet being the key word, love.”

“Yeah, yeah, and how was your day? I feel like you give all the whatever this is, and I don’t know, maybe I don’t give it back enough.”

“Why you tripping? A nigga ain’t keeping score. We good, and I’m a man. Your soon to be man. This little shit ain’t nothing. Chill,” he said, tapping her on the ass. He bit his bottom lip, almost drawing blood, watching it move in her orange workout set. The orange looked so good against her skin. He’d never met anyone that made orange look as good as his future wife did.

“Well, did I get a gift, too, or is your presence the gift? You never come empty-handed.”

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