All of that aside, I needed to get honest about why I was here. I liked Stenton…in a friendship manner. He was funny, engaging and really smart, very much a hidden treasure. And if I was really honest, I’d admit to feeling a surge of excitement at the possibility of being one of the few who knew this side of him. What he saw in me, though, I had no idea. Maybe he felt sorry for me because of how I reacted to learning he dismissed my cousin’s advances via a lie about his relationship status. I still couldn’t believe that. He’d lied. To her. But with me…he seemed very transparent, no matter how annoying he was.
“I’d like to see more of you, though.”
I looked up from the table and saw that look in his eyes again. Stenton guarded his smile around me most days. I finally realized he didn’t trust me. And I got why, eventually. The more we talked, the more I could identify his problem with people always having an agenda and their hands out. I didn’t attempt to prove myself otherwise. My mother always taught me not to fight at getting people to know the real me. She would always say, with time they would know me better than any words could assist with. And that’s what I did with Stenton.
Could that be what the glint in his eyes as he sat across from me was all about?
“Huhn?”
He inclined in his seat, bringing my attention to those full heart-shaped lips that had recently begun haunting my private thoughts.
“I think you should take selfies. Converse to my practices, you can show people who you really are. Remind them of your natural beauty and introduce them to your incredible sense of humor,” he murmured with squinted eyes.
“Sense of humor? I have a sense of humor?” I couldn’t believe his observation. I’d been told about several of my alleged characteristics, but a good sense of humor—or one at all—wasn’t one.
“Yeah, like when you clown my wardrobe all the time. What was it that you called me? A—”
“A ghetto rocker?”
“Yup.” His lips twitched into an easy grin. “That’s one. A bootleg hood model is another.”
He let out a full laugh with that one. I joined him.
“Well, your style is a bit different. That’s evident in all of your selfies.” I busted out laughing at the recollection of some of them. “But then your poses can be so suave. You be like this.”
I squared my shoulders, straightened my neck and angled my head a few ways to mimic Stenton’s various poses. He tossed his head back and hooted hard. One of his security guys turned to see what was causing the ruckus. When they saw me sit on my knees and snatch Stenton’s baseball cap from his head and attempt my Stenton Rogers impersonating, even they cracked smiles.
Unable to breathe, Stenton yelped, “Give me my damn hat back. You can’t rock my shit and clown me at the same time. Fashion is subjective, man.”
He came over to my side of the booth and tried to grab his hat from my head. I argued, “No, what’s subjective is how appropriate those tuxedo shorts were you wore to that party last month.”
I laughed with him while continuing with my antics. When he was successful in getting the cap off my head, he then grabbed my phone and handed it to me.
“Here. I’m about to coach you on how to take silly pictures.”
I took my phone and went into the picture app. “I’m ready.”
Stenton instantly widened his eyes and stuck out his long and wide tongue. I mean…his tongue darn near reached to the bottom of his chin. I’d idly wondered could it extend longer. And then my curiosity caused me to wonder what it would feel like against my— I clicked the camera then slammed the phone on the table.
“Got it. Enough of that. Hope you’re happy,” my voice was uncharacteristically low before I forced the straw from my drink into my suddenly dry mouth.
The trail my thoughts were leading down was not holy.
Stenton knowingly shook his head as he turned away from me.
“C’mon. It’s late.” He stood from the booth and offered his hand. “I’ve taken up enough of your time,” he muttered.
I wiggled my phone as I scooted off the bench to stand. “And memory.”
Brain memory, that is.
When his security saw us coming their way, they stood and walked ahead of us. I followed behind Stenton, who adjusted his hat on his head, and studied his body. His walk wasn’t as ponderous as other tall men. He had a bit of elegance about his stance and stride.
“Where are you parked?” Stenton called back to me.