We laugh. “I have some errands to run, so I need to rush,” Nicholas says once we sober up. I wave and give him a small smile as he walks back to the apartment.
When I turn around for Remi to drop me back, the man’s gaze is riveted on a certain part of my face. Squirming under his intense gaze, I cock my head to the side and wait. “Remi?”
“Huh?”
“You’re staring at my mouth.”
His bedroom eyes lift to mine. “I’m wondering why we haven’t kissed yet.”
The husky candor of his voice makes me suck a breath. My cheeks start heating up as my thoughts go back to my dream. “You can’t say things like this.” I bite my lower lip, feeling self-conscious.
He presses his thumb on my lower lip. “Then, you can’t do things like this, darling.” Freeing my lower lip, he brings his big, warm hand to my cheek, sweeping the hair behind my ear. My cheek adjusts itself on his palm, turning his eyes mahogany.
I’m in trouble.
#ThoseEyesThough
ELEVEN
#ConditionalLove
“Dammit.”
“What?”
My shoulders sag, and I turn toward Candee. “I forgot my phone at Remi’s place.” When I came back to the dorm, I went straight to my book because I was nearing the climax, and I was dying to know what happens, obviously. Then Candee and I started binge-watching “Prison Break” on her laptop, and now it’s seven in the evening, time to call Mom, and I’m just realizing that my phone is not with me. I’m such a disappointment to the millennials.
Candee’s eyes bulge, and she jumps to her feet. “Then let’s go and get it.” She curls her hand in the curve of my elbow and starts walking toward the door.
“You’re just excited to see Nicholas.”
“I am.”
There’s a knock on the door, and my lips twist. Candee’s shoulders slouch, and she gives me a side look. “Looks like we’re not going anywhere.”
I snicker, freeing my arms. I open the door to see Remi standing there with my phone in his hand. “I was just coming to fetch this.”
“Yeah, you left it on the table.” He hands me the phone. “Nicholas and I weren’t home. When we came back, we didn’t notice your phone was on the table until it started ringing.” With a sigh, he fixes me a worried look. “Your dad called.”
“Okay …”
“He called like ten times, so I picked up to tell him you forgot your phone at my place.”
Shit.
“I would have come sooner, but since I was already heading this way because of classes, I thought I’d drop it off now.”
“No problem. I’ll speak to him. And thanks.” My hands grip the door tighter, freezing my smile in place.
He nods and pushes his hands inside his jeans pockets. “He was a little pissed. He asked a lot of questions, but I—” He pauses and clears his throat.
Double shit.
“I didn’t tell him anything. Just that you forgot your phone.”
I lift my shoulders, showing nonchalance, trying to play it cool when inside, I’m preparing for the storm. “Don’t worry. And thank you. I didn’t realize I’d forgotten it until a minute ago.”
He nods, and we stand in awkward silence. “See you?” His fingers move to his hair as he arches an eyebrow at me.
“See you.” I close the door.
“I’d say the seduction phase can be considered over, and you can now rebound the hell out of him.”
“Candee,” I say in exasperation, hanging my head low.
“He’s practically begging to be your rebound. I mean, he showed up everywhere you’ve been. You’re sad at the coffee shop, whom do you meet? Remi. You need shelter from the rain, who invites you to his place? Remi. You’re here all alone, and who’s giving you hot-and-bothered, hour-long stares? Remi.”
“Shut up.” When I turn around, Candee has her hands on her waist, her lips are pulled up in an annoying smirk, and both her eyebrows are arched, waiting for me to deny what she’d said. “Fine, he’s been helpful.”
“He could be a little more helpful. Just let him do a few naughty kinds of stuff to you.”
My thoughts go back to our almost kiss. How determined he was the other day when he said we are going to kiss, and today … I’ve enjoyed being turned on by him. I want this kiss to happen, and this time, I don’t want to step back.
“I’ll think about it.”
Huffs. “You’ll think about it? If you have it half as bad as I have it for Nicholas, then I bet he’s doing some naughty things to you in your dreams.” Her eyes narrow to slits. “Try and deny that?”
Before she can make some more embarrassing but accurately true comments, my phone rings. I flip the gadget, and all the mirth on my face washes up as I read the name appearing there. “I need to take this.” I get out of the dorm and close the door behind me, not wanting Candee to hear our conversation.
“Dad,” I greet, and hear his long exhale on the other side.
“How are you? Are you fine?” The concern in his voice is refreshing.
“I’m fine. And everything is fine.”
“Good. Wait, I’ll make a video call.”
Hell, no. Before I think of protesting, my phone beeps, a video call request popping up. This will be bad. I just know it. Looking up, I blow out a breath before hitting accept.
Dad’s face appears, and his face melts into a smile. Even in his fifties, Dad is a handsome fella, I’ll give him that. Life has been kind to him. The gray hair and wrinkles give him more of a silver fox look. Some of my high school friends used to come home just to see him—some even pulled up the guts to throw themselves at him.
#AwkwardAwkward
“Are you well settled?”
“Yeah, all’s good here.”
He nods, and his forehead creases a little. “Do you mind me asking who picked up your phone earlier?”
“He’s a … friend.”
One of his eyebrows lifts. “Friend? Or a boyfriend?”
“Dad! No, he’s not my boyfriend.”
“Then, a college friend?” He sounds skeptical.
This is why I didn’t want to join the kizomba class because I don’t like lying to my parents. With Mom, it’s easy to share stuff, but it’s so difficult with Dad because he has expectations. I debate telling him the truth, but then I think about what Candee said the other day. I’m an adult, and if I want to dance, I don’t need to explain this to anybody. Even if it’s Dad’s money, a little voice inside of me reproaches. But yes, even then.
“No.” I clear my throat. “He’s my dance instructor.”
He blinks. “I didn’t catch that.”
“I’m taking a dancing class. It’s called kizomba. And the guy who picked up my phone is my dance instructor, Remi. Long story short, I forgot my phone, and he just came by to drop it off.”
Under clenching jaw, he grits, “You’re dancing?”
“Yes. I came here two months before college started. I needed something to do, so my roommate and I enrolled in the kizomba class. It’s been—”