“Right! My mom. Mama was the first one in her family to go to college on a track scholarship. It was a big deal in Armonia. She had dreams of going to the Olympics. She and my dad met at Hampton, back when it was Hampton Institute. But she got pregnant with me in college, got married. Now, she’s the principal of the Shabazz Charter School for Girls in Kirkwood. She refuses to retire because ‘those girls need me.’ Her words.”
Ari’s eyes widened in surprise. “Wow, son of a military man, an educator, and Hampton legacy. Impressive.”
“It’s not a big deal.” To anyone else it probably would be a big deal. I was pretty sure my grandparents had something named after them there. A dorm. A boat. Some scholarship or endowment. I didn’t care about stuff like that. Neither did my dad.
Ari eyed me with a little suspiciousness. “It’s nice to carry on tradition. I’m sure your dad would be proud of you!”
“I hope he is.”
Ari reached toward me, placing a warm, soft hand on top of mine. “Trust me, he would be.”
The music faded away as I relaxed and leaned into her touch.
“Thanks. My dad was amazing. Luckily, Mom remarried about ten years ago to a guy named Desmond. Good dude. Total opposite of my dad. My dad was conservative and buttoned up. A tough love kind of guy. Didn’t express his feelings but you felt his love. Des is really laid-back, carefree, and very animated. He’s a well-known visual artist from Anguilla and met my mom when her girlfriends convinced her to go to one of his gallery showings. If it isn’t about soccer, soca, or cricket, he’s not interested. But we get along great because he treats me and my brother Todd like his own sons but isn’t trying to replace my dad. Todd, he’s indifferent to Desmond, but usually respectful. I’m just glad that Des makes my mom happy and is an awesome grandfather to my niece and nephew.”
“So, did your stepfather paint the paintings in your office?” asked Ari. “The ones above your drafting table.”
I smiled, a little taken aback that she even noticed. “Actually, no. I did those.”
“Wow!” Ari exclaimed with a smile. “An architect. A painter. Just an overall Renaissance man. So why didn’t you pursue art?”
I felt myself blushing. “Thanks. Painting is just a hobby. I thought about being a fine artist. I can still hear my grandfather saying, ‘Junior, that isn’t a wise or lucrative profession.’ I think it would have embarrassed him just to tell his snooty friends that I was a painter. But my stepdad Desmond thinks I’m wasting my gifts on this ‘blasted building ting.’”
We both started laughing at my piss-poor rendition of Des’s West Indian accent. Why was I telling her all of this? I never opened up to women like this. I felt so comfortable and at ease with Ari.
“Can I ask you something?” Ari asked before taking a slow, languid sip of her beer. She frowned a bit at this stout, which was a lot hoppier than what I picked before. I could tell this beer wasn’t up her alley, but like a good sport, she tried it anyway.
I motioned for her to continue. “Anything.” She could have asked me to break-dance on this slightly greasy pub floor and I would have.
“Is it weird working so closely with me? I mean, a woman. I hear the other female architects in the office haven’t lasted long.”
I took a big gulp of my beer and shook my head. “Not at all. I’m trying my best not to be awkward around you because you have some serious cred in our industry. The other female architects left for good reason. Totally nothing to do with their work or anything.”
Ari nodded slowly. “I see...”
I gestured my dismissal of her thoughts. “Pfft. Please! You have nothing to worry about. At the end of the day, I’ve enjoyed working with you on this stadium. It’s been amazing. An honor that I don’t take lightly.”
Ari touched the top of my hand. My body felt like it was melting into a pool of mush. If she kept touching me, we were going to have to find a dark corner in this bar. Fast.
“Thank you, Porter. You have no idea how much your words mean to me. I totally understand the magnitude of this project, Porter. We got this!”
She reached her closed fist across the table, and I returned a fist bump back to her.
“You’re right, Ari. We got this. We make a hell of a team.”
“Good,” she said, her face lighting up with a smile. “Glad you recognize that!” God, I had known her such a short time and every time she smiled at me, it felt as if her smile was the light showing me the way out of the dark.
My muddled brain tried to refocus. “Speaking of work...got any ideas about what direction you want to go next?” Just as Ari was about to answer, the waiter brought our burgers. The smell was intoxicating. We both stared at them and practically drooled in silence.
“Ugh, Porter. I don’t want to think about that until Monday. Let me enjoy this very sexy-looking burger,” Ari said. She picked it up with two hands and bit into it. I watched as she chewed slowly, eyes closed. I’d gone out with my share of women, but none made eating a burger sexy like Ari did. Hell, none would dare order a burger. I appreciated that Ari wasn’t trying to be cute with a knife and fork. She was going to enjoy that sloppy burger fully, juices running down her arm and all. My foodie heart had found its soul mate.
“So how...” I began, trying not to show my pleasure at her enjoying these burgers. I’d hit it out of the park with my choice of happy hour spot, damn proud of myself for taking a chance at asking her to join me tonight.
Ari held up a finger to silence me. “Nope...you will not ruin this for me.” Then, she took another hearty bite, eyes closed, and moaned. Watching her sent tingles down my toes and elicited a smile that was tinged with too much horniness across my face.
Ari opened her eyes to find me staring right at her. She bit her lip, a little embarrassed, then dabbed the corners of her mouth with a napkin before speaking.
“From now on, I trust you to make all food-related decisions when we hang out. Porter, this is fucking amazing!”
Yes. It was.
Chapter Nine
Ari
It was the best non-date date that I’d ever had.
We finished those amazing burgers and talked all night about everything. I looked at my watch. Shit, it was ridiculously late. The pub was clearing out slowly as the hipsters were being replaced by an annoying, rowdy college crowd. I looked across at Porter who was looking satiated from the food and beers. His eyes followed mine. I swallowed. If he looked at me one more time like that, I’d be in trouble.
“Are you ready to leave?” asked Porter. He signaled the waiter for the check, looking a little disappointed that our night was ending.
I hesitated. Honestly, I didn’t want to go. We were having such a good time. I wanted to stay there all night, maybe play a few more games of pool. Maybe talk some more. I felt like I was just scratching the surface of this handsome, sweet guy with a fascinating backstory. But I knew better than to extend happy hour into a nightcap. That had gotten me in trouble before. Coworkers and friends. That’s it. That is all we could be.