And his body…whoa! I’d hoped he didn’t catch my stumble when we got out of the pool that day. His chest was wide and defined, but not bulky. His tattooed torso glistened from water running down his chest and abdomen. I’d gotten an up close and personal opportunity at viewing the various scripts, Chinese lettering and other graphics driving my curiosity. His trunks hung low…like really low…and I saw the muscular outline of his pelvis. I felt throbbing between my legs and nearly jumped a 180 degree turn to stop my ogling. I’d never thought I’d be privy to his body like that. It felt invasive—more invasive than the conversations we’d taken on in the pool.
It stung when he told me he didn’t have a girlfriend. I felt like Angela and I had been duped into something we didn’t sign up for. But the more I thought about it, I realized what Angela had going on with Alton, we did ask for; it was the very thing she was seeking with Stenton, only he wasn’t interested.
Then I debated telling her. My mind raced for hours after the revelation. The decision not to, ruled out. I thought telling her that Stenton and Alton lied would cause her to feel less appealing. I didn’t want her to think she wasn’t good enough for any man. Stenton was not God. She could move on and she did…with Alton.
My phone rang, calling my attention back to the table. I checked the number and saw that it was Bernard. I sent it to voicemail, figuring I’d call him back when I was alone. I wasn’t exactly prepared to share that I was at a country club, having lunch with Stenton Rogers. He’d likely think I’d lost all my scruples. I wouldn’t have even believed me.
I turned all of this over in my mind as I forked through my food.
“Linkin Park, huhn?” I heard from across the table. It annoyed me to no end what I felt when I heard his tenor most times. My throat would close up and pulse would race simply at the sound of his voice.
“I didn’t catch that,” I replied.
“Your ringtone…“Numb”.” His chin was angled to the table, but his eyes were on me.
My body was inclined to my plate as I peered up at him. “Oh, yeah. I like them,” I said noncommittally.
“You must more than like them if you’ve selected them as your ringtone.”
“What’s wrong with me liking them? Because I’m a black girl and they’re a rock band?” My tone was derisive.
I got so annoyed with people finding it unethnic of me to like genres other than gospel, R&B and rap. I mean, isn’t there more to life than those three groups of music? Are they the only ones blacks subscribe to?
Stenton’s mouth drew up as did his eyes when he shook his head. “Do you like Coldplay?”
“Some of their stuff. They can be a little too soft melodically for my taste. I like some of the harder stuff…the ones pushed from the gut.” I wasn’t ashamed to speak about my peculiar interests.
“Funny…I just knew you’d say “Yellow” is your favorite.”
“It’s…cute. “Harder to Breathe” makes you feel. I prefer angst to my rock, or at least something that makes me feel.”
Stenton scoffed. “I don’t consider Maroon 5 a rock band. They’re dope and all, but they can go too soulful.”
“And what’s the matter with that? All music can be soulful.” I found my neck jerking.
He scanned the ceiling, letting out a silent chuckle. My stomach did flips when his teeth unveiled. I hated how whenever Stenton smiled, it felt like the sun moved beyond the clouds. And when he smiled with his eyes on me, I felt the cascade of water from the most refreshing spring. I saw the oasis where the sun met the water and created the best ambiance nature had to offer. I saw every detail of it. His smile was that beautiful.
“Right now “Secret” is what I feel,” he shared, sobering his voice and descending his cheeks, but the slant in his eyes remained.
His tone was unmistakably scandalous. I had no idea how to take that comment.
“Is that what you feel about the girl you took out last week?” My eyes fell to my plate and I pushed my food around.
“Definitely not,” he answered before taking a short breath. “Where did you pick up rock?”