Feeling Some Type of Way

by Vera Roberts

  He didn’t.

  Instead, he splayed his fingers across my thighs as they slowly massaged my skin. It wasn’t sexual but sensual; almost second-nature as if he’d already done this before with me. With us.

  It was a comforting feeling. It was a weird as hell feeling. We came from two different worlds and he’s already well-established in his while I’m still trying to find my way. Yet, it feels like we were supposed to connect with each other at this time, this moment.

  His fingers stopped moving and I instantly noticed the sudden movement. I looked up at Ian and saw him peacefully sleeping. Damn, he even looked heavenly as he slept.

  Now I was in a predicament: do I wake him up so he could sleep in my room with me? Do I leave him on the sofa? Furthermore, if he does sleep in my room, would he assume to sleep in my bed with me in it?

  I guess there’s only one way to find out.

  I gently shook him awake. “Ian,” his eyes slowly opened to mine, “let’s go to bed.”

  He blinked at me twice. “I beg your pardon?”

  “To sleep,” I emphasized, trying to convince myself. “My bed is more comfortable than this sofa.”

  I helped him up and led the way to the bedroom. I removed the blankets and crawled into bed. “Your turn!”

  Ian’s next move was the ultimate game-changer. He removed his shirt, revealing every bit of fantasy I had ever imagined. Good Lord, Hallelujah! Tawny skin adorned washboard abs, hardened nipples, and just-right muscular arms.

  He stepped out of his jeans and I noticed he was a boxer brief man. Yes, I was staring at his crotch and I couldn’t tell you how big or small he was but I’m pretty damn sure he was just right.

  He climbed in bed and cuddled right next to me. “You’re okay with me being in bed with you like this?” He asked.

  I was more than okay. My tummy fluttered with anticipation while the loud pounding of my heart matched the equal thumping in the vee of my sex. If tonight was the night he was going to deflower me, this was better than any trashy novel I’ve ever read. “I’m good,” I whispered.

  “Domi?”

  “Yes, Ian?”

  “I won’t sleep with you tonight so you don’t have to worry about that.” He kissed my forehead. “I’ll just sleep.”

  Emotions are so funny. One minute, I wanted this guy to take me to Pleasure Land with a few pit stops in Ecstasy, Please Lick Me Again, and Multiple Orgasms. The next minute, I wanted to take him to a place called Blue Balls R Us.

  As Ian slept with me, I stayed awake and stared up at the ceiling. We won’t date. We won’t ever be lovers. But we’ll be good friends who platonically cuddle in bed.

  I’m okay with that.

  For now.

  Twelve

  The vibe at MOCA was completely different from the Ferguson.

  It was hipster-central. It cool, older people who were hip to the game. It was loud. It was quiet. It was revolution. It was post-racial.

  I strangely felt out of place.

  As I walked through the cold, concrete floors and admired the various pieces of art by many unknown artists, I thought about Ian.

  It’d been over a week since he spent the night with me and we’ve had little contact since then. He got up the next morning and took me out for breakfast before dropping me off back home.

  He called me once since then to make sure I was okay being alone at my apartment and if I needed him to come back over. Honestly, I didn’t need him to come back over. I spent a lot of time alone at the apartment and our complex is relatively safe.

  I wanted him to come back over. It took all of my willpower to tell him he didn’t have to and I was fine.

  That’s the tricky thing about getting a guy to notice you. You don’t want to come off desperate and available but you also don’t want him to think you’re a bitch and he’s wasting his time. You have to straddle that fine, ridiculous line.

  “So what do you think?” Helen asked. “You see yourself working here?”

  I looked around and was amazed at everything. It’s funny because before Ian, I probably would’ve fit right in here at MOCA. It was a little bit funky, a little bit rock n’ roll, a little bit country, a little bit of soul. Whatever you were into, MOCA had it.

  Now, I feel like I’m visiting my friend’s house for the night but when all is said and done, I want to go back home and sleep in my own bed.

  “I don’t know. I still have unfinished business at the Ferguson,” I cautiously replied. “I can’t take any positions until I talk to Ian about my role there.”

  “Y’all didn’t talk at all when he spent the night?” Helen asked.

  Michelle whipped her long, brunette hair back at me. “What? He spent the night?”

  Michelle is the more conservative of the three of us. It’s funny because she spends the night with Kris all of the time but she is insistent they only cuddle and nothing happens. I’m not entirely sure I believe that but it’s not my place to judge. While it is very possible for a girl and guy to spend the night and nothing occurs (like moi), it’s also possible for a girl and guy to do everything but (like moi). Damn, I am a skeezer.

  “Nothing happened and your bed is still pure and virginal like a pastor’s sheets,” I replied. “He slept in my bed with me.”

  “Yeah, my sheets have the son of Satan all over them,” Helen commented, “that reminds me I need to do laundry when we get home.”

  “You are so damn gross,” Michelle shuddered before she turned to me, “you didn’t tell me he spent the night! When was this?”

  “Thanksgiving night. He came over and spent the night. We watched movies, cuddled, and talked. That’s all.”

  “He was naked in her bed,” Helen added.

  “He was naked?” Michelle gasped.

  I pointed to Helen. “You need your ass whupped.” I turned back to Michelle. “He wore his boxer briefs and I was clothed as well. Nothing happened but cuddling.”

  “So, is he your boyfriend now?” She asked.

  “No, he’s not my boyfriend. If he were my boyfriend, I would’ve seen him sometime this week and no, not my man.” It was a stark reminder to me what our relationship was. I was good enough to cuddle but that was about it.

  “Good,” Michelle nodded, “stay away from him.”

  “Okay, what the hell is your problem?” Helen asked. “You keep giving these hints about Ian like we’re supposed to know and…”

  “We?” I blinked.

  “And you’re not saying anything!” Helen ignored me and continued. “What’s the deal?”

  “Ian Ferguson is an asshole,” Michelle spat out, “that’s all you need to know and that’s all I’m going to say on it.” She then walked away.

  Helen showed up to my side and shook her head. “I need to contact my dealer. She needs some of that Khalifa Kush.”

  Something tells me Michelle knew more about Ian than she wanted to admit. When he met Michelle the other day, he wasn’t familiar with her and he would’ve mentioned how he known her by now. I’m curious to know but a part of me also doesn’t care. If it’s not for me to know, it’s not for me to know.

  I wonder what Ian could’ve done to make Michelle hate him so much if they never met?

  “Are you enjoying yourself?”

  It was like my body sensed he was here before my mind did. The familiar butterfly flutters went wild and my heart pounded as loud as a street worker. I turned around and locked eyes with Ian. He was dressed in a casual V-neck sweater, dark jeans, and boots.

  Again, he smelled like sex, fantasy, and hope. Hope as in I hope he gets into these panties. “I didn’t expect to see you here,” I said to him as he grinned at me, “checking out the competition?”

  “We all cater to the same audience. When you’re a lover of art, you go to different museums and leave your ego at the door.” He replied. “It’s very competitive in the art world for artists but even more so for museums. Trying to buy art that no one else has? Trying to convince
the estate of said artist why we should be the only place to display this work? Trying to convince private art collectors to loan us a piece for a few months or years? You noticed how I keep using the word trying?”

  I honestly had no idea. There’s a lot of bureaucracy and politics behind the Van Goghs. That’s insanity to me. “Crazy.”

  “Very much so.” He replied before he looked over my shoulder. “Hello, Helen. Looking beautiful as ever.”

  “Hello, Ian,” she smiled a wide smile, “where’s your date?”

  I swallowed my emotions. Ian brought a date?

  “She’s around here somewhere,” he casually looked around and placed his attention at the line for the mimosas. Helen and I already knew who his date was. Tall, brunette, dark chocolate skin, and legs for days. Okay, so race isn’t a factor but he has a thing for thin girls. Yeah, me and my big ass don’t qualify.

  I would’ve been disappointed but this seemed to be a part of Ian’s personality. He’ll date different women without the intention of committing to any of them. At least he’s honest about it.

  “What are you girls up to?” He asked.

  “I’m trying to convince Sister why she would work here,” Helen elbowed my back to go along with the lie. Gosh, why did she have to hit me with the bony part? That shit hurts! “She’s not convinced, though. Maybe you could help her make a decision? I need to go look for Michelle. Bye!” She quickly left.

  I love and hate Helen. Forget Michelle needing that Khalifa Kush, I’m going to need it.

  “MOCA is a very respected museum. You would fit right in here.” Ian’s British accent once again feathered my ears. “I think you’ll have a lot of fun here.”

  “I don’t know anything about art. I also don’t know anything about being a personal assistant.” I replied as we studied a painting. “I indebted to you no matter what I decide.”

  A small silence passed between us and I looked over to Ian to make sure he was still beside me. His eyes were focused on the art more than anything. “I just love the emotion of this.” He slightly waved his hand in a circular motion. “The woman’s face, the tear streaming down her cheek, the anger and frustration in her eyes, the small hope forming on her lips for a better tomorrow.” He looked at the tag of the art. It was titled, “Black. Woman.” “This is just incredible!”

  So, he just blew off what I said to talk about art? Got it. No wonder Michelle thinks he’s an asshole. He’s King Asshole.

  “Domi, when I spent the night with you the other night, what did you think that was about?”

  Ian said it so nonchalantly I swore he talked about the weather. I honestly thought it was just a cuddle fest between two lonely people. It quickly occurred to me I was the lonely one. “Two friends just hanging out?”

  Ian walked over to the next piece and I slowly followed him. He placed a thumb on his chin and admired it. “Just beautiful.” He turned back to me. “Just friends?”

  The way he said it, I felt his words in my spine. It didn’t help his eyes were intense and bluer than the sky as well. “We didn’t do anything that would make me think of you or us otherwise,” I countered.

  He stepped closer to me and looked deep into my eyes. I felt small pinpricks of emotion pop up all over my body. “How many of your male friends get almost naked and cuddle with you all night?”

  I opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out except a breathy gasp. He stood mere inches from me and I could feel the small breath of his nose in my face. His full and sensual lips were just mere inches from my face.

  Just closer…a little closer…a little closer and…

  I heard a woman clearing her voice. I looked over to my right and saw Ian’s date giving me a disgusted look as she held two champagne glasses. “Your date is back,” I mentioned to him.

  “Clarissa, this is my assistant, Domi.” Ian casually introduced us as if nothing huge just happened within the past five minutes.

  Classy Clarissa went through a metamorphosis as she quickly replaced the resting bitch face with a Happy Go-Pukey smile. “Hi Domi! Nice to meet you! I didn’t know you were here or I would’ve brought a third glass!”

  Good save, bitch. Good one.

  “It’s okay. I was just leaving, anyway. Enjoy the exhibit.” I smiled and walked off. I didn’t want to turn around to see if Ian was watching me leave but I just had to know if he went back to paying attention to his date.

  I turned around and locked eyes with Ian. He paid his date no mind at all.

  Thirteen

  One thing I love about the holidays is how it’s instant Christmas everywhere!

  From the trees to the baubles to the many wreaths, everyone is instantly in the giving and kindness spirit. With Mariah blaring in my speakers telling how me how all she wants is Christmas is her lover, I can relate.

  All I want for Christmas is…someone I can’t have.

  Honestly, it’s for the best. He has a lot on his plate and given what happened the last few weeks, I totally understand firsthand what Ian goes through.

  The total time spent at my desk has been about five hours and those five hours are rather laborious ones. I’m not kicking back, just chilling like I thought I was going to be.

  I pick up his dry cleaning, go over his calendar for the week, and make sure everyone associated with him gets paid on time. He has a maid that comes over once a week, while a tailor makes his custom suits. If one of his celebrity friends want to catch a basketball game, he needs to clear his schedule so they can sit courtside and the paps can get a great shot of him.

  That’s the fun part of Ian’s schedule. I’ve spoken to some heavy-hitter A-listers and I can brag for the end of my days I spoke to Bradley Cooper, Denzel Washington, and Leonardo DiCaprio. Hell, even Leo wanted to take me out for lunch! (Ian told him I wasn’t available and I don’t remember agreeing I wasn’t.)

  Of course, the shitty part of Ian’s schedule is keeping up with the black burn book of his sex life. I would say love life but he has none. Again, his heart might be dead but his dick gets plenty of action.

  Anyway, I’m getting off track here. Ian needed an assistant because the number he gives his dates (and I’m using that term quite loosely) is freaking mine. No wonder he only wanted that phone for work purposes only. He didn’t want to look at the bill and see me conversing with his dates about his asshole behavior.

  Over the course of the last several weeks, many women had their turn at Ian – Classy Clarissa (first and only date was at MOCA), Loose Lips Lisa (she blabbed to the gossip blogs about her date with Ian and he cut her off immediately afterwards), and Stuck-Up Stephanie (she mistreated a restaurant server and he ended the date right then and there).

  Now, here we were approaching the holidays and no mention of any new (stupid) women to fill his bed. It wasn’t fair for me to assume he slept with all of them; only Loose Lips confirmed the only thing they did was kiss and went on how she heard Whitney Houston’s “I Run To You” play in the background as an aura surrounded them and yeah, what the hell?

  Still, it didn’t escape me that he was with these women for a reason and it became clearer the issue was me. The one thing all of the women had in common was that we were around the same age. Okay. So, he likes girls my age and he likes them thin (I’m working on that part but damnit, Talenti is the devil!).

  I feel like I’m missing something here. Do I need to become more of airhead? Do I need to do the duck lips more on IG? What is it that I need to do to capture Ian’s attention?

  “Well, well, well…look who decided to grace us small folk with her attention again?” My former boss, Aaron Jacobs, greeted me at Caffeinated. He was a muscular blond with two full sleeves, and a charming smile. He’s from the South but he makes a visit to the L.A. branch at least twice a month.

  He also has something in common with Ian – gets the numbers, gets the panties, and then forgets about them completely. Now I know why I never took Aaron seriously as well.

  “Hey Bos
s!” He walked from behind the counter and greeted with me a monster hug. Something about those Southern gentlemen…“How are you? You look great!”

  “So do you, so do you!” He placed his hands on his hips. “I hear you’re working for a big shot now!”

  I looked behind Aaron and saw Helen whistle as she prepared coffee. “Word gets around.”

  “Well, good for you! I’m glad you’re moving up! Just don’t forget about us small folk, okay?” He joked.

  “Whatever! I’m still the same Sister!” I laughed.