Page 47 of Not My Type
“Mi nah repeat,” he retorts.
“Sorry,” I say, my voice sarcastic.
I find my phone and check the time myself. 7 o’ clock. I continue mysarcasm. “How hard was that?” my eyes finds him.
“Like this,” he looks down and I shake my head with a sheepish laugh.
He finally smiles— so sweet.
“You are something else,” I lean to the side, grab the remote and resume the show.
Surprisingly, he doesn’t react. Instead, he hugs me tight with his eyes glued to the screen that’s mounted to my wall. I breathe out as he gradually runs his hands behind my thighs, moves up, circles my ass and slaps it. I put my face in his neck, bring my leg up to his torso and hug him.
“Ow!” I wince when he slaps my ass the second time.
He bites his lip. I look at the TV while blushing uncontrollably. Then my mind drifts to my pizza. It should’ve been delivered already. Look at the time. Ugh. Why are they trying to get on my nerves? My thoughts are cut off when my belly rumbles. Feeling self-conscious, my eyes find him, and a sigh of relief leaves my lips when I realize that he didn’t hear it. I gently slip out of his grip and roll off the bed.
I’m dying.
I open the door and poke my head out, only to see the man waiting at the grill. My jaw hits the floor.
How long has he been waiting?
“Just a minute,” I tell the guy before I look back at Nick.
“Who that?” his eyes curious. I lean against the door, my brows dancing.
“The delivery guy,” I smile before I close the door and walk away leaving him there staring. I collect my pizza and pay. He shoots me a smile.
“I always see you and like you enuh,” he flirts.
Jesus no.
If him know wah good fi him, him leave.
“Bye,” I try to cut him off.
Our relationship is fresh. We’ve just started dating, I don’t want the problems.
“Just your number mi want, we can link again?” he continues. I move closer to him after looking back.
“When yuh come yer, don’t flirt with me because mi ma—” his eyes moves from me to behind me.
“Wah a tek yuh so long?” a low voice ask from behind me, laced with enough rasp to turn the seat of my panties into a puddle.
Dadadeee, my subconscious sings.
He toss a pepper shrimp snack in the trash then walks out and takes the box from me. The delivery guy’s eyes pop in fear. If mi neva’ kno better mi would a buss out a Quite Perry laugh.
“Thanks for using 7krave,” he mutters under his breath and briskly walks away.
After that, I walk in behind Nick. I place Mama’s stuff in the microwave and join him in the room — he’s lying face down on my bed. “Do you want pizza?” I inquire, and he shakes his head no.
Okay... he doesn’t strike me as a pizza eating person anyways. I climb on the bed, right next to him. Then he turns on his side, watching quietly as I daintily eat my food.
“When you o’ done?” he questions after about five minutes of staring. I only took out two slices of pizza with a chicken wing.
“Almost done,” I say as I chew the last slice in my hand. He’s still staring.
