Page 60 of Definitely Not a Thing
She wrinkled her nose. “I didn’t want to overstep.”
“Overstep?” I scoffed. “We text about every other random thing.”
“Yeah, but… this is a little different. Hanging stuff, building furniture… that’s getting intofavorterritory, and I know how niggas get.”
My eyes went wide. “Enlighten me. How do we get?”
“Pervy,” she answered, shrugging. “You ask a male “friend” for a favor, and it’s a well known fact that you risk him wanting afavorin return.”
I frowned. “What’s wrong with that? I scratch your back, you scratch mine!”
“If it wasdrive me to the airport,pick up a gallon of milk for meit would be fine. Y’all have a tendency to wantassthough.”
“Oh, shit,” I chuckled. “I… can understand your hesitation when you put it like that,” I admitted. “But you know I’m not on any shit like that with you, right?”
She gave me a deadpan look. “Prove it.”
“How am I supposed to prove that?”
A little flash of mischief crossed her face as she smirked, grabbing my arm with both hands. “Calvin… could youpleasehelp me install this chair?” she asked, fluttering her eyelashes at me and all.
Damn, I was easy.
“Yes,” I agreed, grinning. “And I already know how you can return the favor.”
Her eyes narrowed. “How?”
“I install this chair for you… you come to this work party with me.”
“Work? As in… basketball?”
I nodded. “Yeah. You get to dress up, probably meet some celebrities… very nice gift bag,” I explained. “Only catch is that you have to pretend to be my girlfriend.”
She wrinkled her nose. “How nice is the gift bag?”
“Last one had aMoments&Measureswatch, a bottle ofKimble Reserve, and a gift card toNectar. And that’s just the stuff I kept – I gave my sister a bunch of girl shit that was in there.”
Amelia nodded. “How nice of a dress up? Are we talking gala or cocktail?”
“Cocktail.”
“Mmhm. Hm…,” she mused. “But having to pretend tolikeyou… it better be agoodass gift bag.”
I scoffed. “Lie to yourself all you want, Li-Li. I’ll go grab a ladder.”
A few minutes later I was back – and clothed in some shorts and a tee shirt.
Amelia had put on another layer as well, and together we made pretty quick work of getting that hook securely mounted, and then getting the chair itself in place.
“Okay… moment of truth,” I said, stepping back to admire our efforts.
“You sure it’s in there?” Amelia asked, and I chuckled.
“How many times did you fall before I got over here?”
“Why are you so focused on the past?” she countered with a smirk, then moved to take a seat in the chair – gingerly at first, and then sinking in. “Itfeelssecure at least.”
I met her gaze. “Good. Let’s test it.”
