“Where should I put my gift?” I asked, holding up the gift bag that contained a nice picture frame Mila told me not to buy. In fact, “Most niggas don’t put pictures up in their house. They just… live in it,” were her exact words.
I worried that Londyn was thinking the same thing the way her eyebrow piqued when she asked, “You actually brought a real gift?”
“Uh… was I not supposed to? I mean, this is a housewarming party, right?”
She nodded. “It is. But everyone else just bought gift cards.”
Jamila’s eyes almost immediately shot my way since that was exactly what she had suggested for me to do too. But I wasn’t going to indulge her, instead keeping my attention on Londyn as she said, “You can just give it to him. He’s right over there.”
My eyes followed her line of direction, and a little gasp slipped from lips since… damn, he looks good. I thought I had the whole “super chill” dress code down pact, but Khalid was practically the poster boy with his gray sweatpants and fresh white tee. Even the little bit of scruff to his locs and facial hair gave off the right vibe, making me jealous and turned on all at once.
Shit, it’s been a minute.
As if he felt me staring at him, he looked up and his eyes locked with mine, a sheepish smile growing on his face as he waved me over. And you would’ve thought he was holding a magnet the way I immediately drifted his way, not even bothering to include my little sister on the journey.
She’d be alright.
The second I got close enough to reach, he pulled me into the tightest hug, teasingly growling right against my ear, “I could’ve sworn I told your fine ass this was super chill. But nahhh, you just had to come in here lookin’ all good and shit.”
With a laugh, I pulled away to defend, “I really tried to chill! Had the tracksuit on and all, but Jamila the stylist wasn’t having it.”
“Guess you just gotta wear it the next time you come and visit then,” he insisted with a wink, the glaze in his eyes telling me he had already been enjoying the libations before we arrived. And you would’ve thought he had read my mind since he continued, “Lemme get you a drink or somethin’.”
He was already making moves toward the kitchen when I stopped him with a hand to his chest. “Wait. Before we do that, I got you a gift.”
Smirking, he accepted the gift bag from my opposite hand, blowing past the tissue paper to pull out…, “A picture frame with the standard white couple still in it. You could’ve at least hit me with a selfie, a glamour shot, somethin’.”
My face scrunched. “Are you serious? That would’ve just been… weird. Here’s a picture of myself for you to put up in your house that doesn’t have pictures of anyone else because I’m that damn full of myself to think you need it.”
Instead of agreeing, he only shrugged. “Would’ve been better than this picture of Peter and Jenny, I know that for a fact.”
“Gotta capture your own moments, Khalid,” I insisted with a teasing jab to his arm.
Well, it was supposed to be a teasing jab until Khalid caught me by the wrist and snatched my breath all at once when he replied, “Certainly looking forward to it, Jayla.”
The usual playfulness in his eyes was there, but there was also a hint of something else; a hint of interest that had my heart beating a lot faster than it should’ve been by the time he asked, “Can I give you a tour?”
“Uh… sure,” I pushed out, trying to ignore the butterflies in my stomach that came in response to him exchanging my wrist for my hand. But it fit so well, and it felt too right, and he smelled so good, and…
“Jamila’s here. I’m sure she’d like a tour too,” I blurted, hoping to break up some of… whatever it was brewing deep in my lower belly.
I had to.
But Khalid didn’t even break his stride, nor drop my hand, to reply, “She can do the self-guided version. This tour is reserved for only my most special guests.”
“Am I supposed to be flattered?” I asked with a grin, unable to contain it since I really was flattered as hell. I mean, Khalid’s charm was truly his secret weapon. The secret weapon that had grown his audience, the secret weapon we were currently monetizing, and the secret weapon I was easily falling victim to.
“God forbid he has an even better weapon somewhere else,” I thought to myself, wishing I would’ve gotten that drink first when Khalid licked his lips to reply, “You should be.” Then he eased us through the crowd down the hall that included stops at a bathroom, a spare bedroom, a den, and finally his master bedroom.
“This is where the magic happens,” he announced with his hand against the door knob, making me giggle once he added, “The magic of faking like we’re sleep until we actually fall asleep.”
“Never thought about it like that, but you have a point,” I told him as I followed him inside, my eyes first going to his bed, then shooting straight up to the giant Tupac painting hanging over it. “Really, Khalid? Who do you think you are with this Tupac painting? Jody in Baby Boy?” I asked teasingly, stepping closer to get a better look at the painting that was well done, but also looked like Tupac was already judging me for being in here.
But I thought only God could…
“Tyrese should’ve won an Oscar for Baby Boy if we’re keepin’ it real. At least for Best Original Song. Just a Baby Boy still rides.”
I wanted to laugh until I realized Khalid was dead serious. And while I could assume BET playing the movie a million times a week had brainwashed him into believing the movie deserved those kinds of accolades, I didn’t get a chance to call him out on it since someone barged in the room to announce, “Aye, cuz. Some people are out here looking for you… are beautiful as fuck.”
Crossing my arms over my chest nervously, I waited for Khalid to make sense of the unfamiliar face. And he seemed annoyed when he finally explained, “Jayla, this is my little cousin Shaq. Shaq, this is the boss lady, Jayla.”
His little nickname for me was beginning to stick, but I still wanted to make it clear when I told his cousin, “It’s more of a partnership, but it’s nice to meet you, Shaq.”
“Pleasure’s all mine, boss lady,” he replied through darkened lips that told me he had definitely spent a little time out on the smoker’s porch. But let me be clear, Shaq was far from unattractive. In fact, he seemed like the type of guy my little sister would be into if she wasn’t so busy checking for my… friend… associate... client.
He’s my client.
“Some folks out front say they know you, K. But I don’t know them, so they can’t possibly know you,” Shaq expressed enthusiastically, making me chuckle since I knew his logic was quite flawed.
It seemed as if Khalid knew it too the way he released a heavy sigh before he put a gentle hand to my arm to say, “Stay here, Jayla. I’ll be right back.”
Before I could respond, he was already out of the room, leaving me to figure out how to pass the time without being straight up nosy. Really, I probably should’ve just made my way back to the party to find Jamila, but something told me to stay put. And of course, the urge to be nosy took over in no time at all.
It started with a little glance at the book on his nightstand; The Autobiography of Gucci Mane. Then it moved to the top of his dresser that was covered in an assortment of cologne bottles and jewelry pieces; a particular pair of black diamond earrings enticing me to take a better look. And after a quick peek at the door to make sure no one was coming, I picked one up to discover it looked even more gorgeous up close… until it slipped from my fingers onto the ground.
“Shit,” I hissed, glancing down at the plush carpet around my tennis shoes and not spotting it right away. I had no choice but to get down on my hands and knees to search for it, running my fingers through the synthetic fibers and finding everything except what I was actually looking for.
Damn, damn…
“Damn.”
It took me a second to realize the last one wasn’t in my head, but had actually come from some
one behind me. And once I thought about the full moon I was showing off thanks to the shrunken t-shirt dress Jamila had outfitted me with, I felt embarrassed as hell, falling onto my butt in an attempt to cover up what Khalid had already seen. But there wasn’t any covering up the reason for me being down here in the first place, something Khalid wasted no time addressing when he crossed his arms with a smirk and said, “I hope you never find whatever it is you’re looking for.”
“Your earring,” I admitted with a little pout, peeking back at Tupac who was definitely judging me now.
Instead of siding with Tupac, Khalid came over and joined me on the ground, running his fingers through the carpet the same way I had as he said, “I drop these mothafuckas all the time. But I figure it’s better happening out here than in the sink or somethin’.”
Nodding to agree, I watched as he continued his search, eventually hitting the jackpot and pulling the earring from the carpet.
Thank God.
“So you liked the black diamonds, huh?” he asked, holding it out to me so I could finally take a look the way I had originally intended to.
To avoid any more accidents, I let him keep it in his hand, sitting up on my knees to get closer and reply, “They’re gorgeous.”
“They’d look good on you,” he insisted, bringing it near my ear as if he wanted to see for himself. But since I couldn’t see anything, all I got was the effects of his finger grazing my ear in a way that made a low groan slip from my throat.
A low groan that I tried to cover up with a cough as I told him, “I think I might need that drink now. We should probably get back.” Then I tried to make my way up from the ground until Khalid caught me by the wrist again mid-attempt.
“What’s the rush?” he asked, his eyes practically pleading with me to stay. And I wanted to stay; enjoyed being in this space with him a little too much, in fact. But staying in this space meant the possibility of crossing lines I wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near, so I was forced to come up with a reason to escape.
“I need to... check on my sister.”
Considering how weak the excuse was, I shouldn’t have been surprised when he easily brushed it off. “She’s good. Hanging out on the back porch with Shaq.”
“Should’ve known,” I thought to myself, gnawing on my lip as Khalid waited for me to make a decision - more like, waited for me to come up with more excuses. And the only reasonable one that came to mind was, “I need to… go take those pictures of the speaker. For the post you need to make on your Instagram.”
It was the truth, but I could tell Khalid wasn’t too happy to hear it the way he immediately frowned in response, releasing my wrist and using his hand to push himself up from the ground. Then his frown turned into more of a half-hearted smile when he huffed, “Right. Business as usual,” before heading back to the party without me.
Khalid
According to the clock, it was way past time for people to take their asses home. But knowing the kind of company I kept, I was hardly surprised to see there were still a few stragglers hanging out in the living room sipping on the last of the free liquor, and a few of the folks who had spent way too much time out on smoker’s porch chowing down on what was left of the food.
“Less for me to consume, I guess,” I reasoned in my head as I mindlessly made my way to the kitchen for a bottle of water. But my hand went stiff on the handle of the fridge when I realized I wasn’t in the kitchen alone. “You’re still here?”
After the impromptu tour, I had done my best to pay Jayla less mind. Not in an obvious, malicious way, but in a mandatory way since… I wanted her. Wanted to chill with her, wanted to get to know her better, wanted to… shit, finish the night deep inside of her if we’re being real. But every time I thought she was maybe ready to let her guard down even a little bit, she managed to put up another brick in the form of our business dealings.
I understood.
Mixing business and pleasure always had the potential to be disastrous, and I definitely wasn’t trying to mess up what we were building already. But damn, she wasn’t making it any easier for me, her jacket tied around her waist in a way that made her short ass dress seem even shorter. And shorty had legs for days, legs I just knew would wrap perfectly around my…
“Jamila went on a store run with your cousin almost an hour ago, and they still haven’t made it back. We rode over here together, so I didn’t want to just leave without her, but…”
“You didn’t call her?” I asked, thinking that would’ve easily solved her problem.
But Jayla only gave me the most annoyed face when she answered, “Her phone is dead.”
Since I could only imagine what Shaq had gotten the two of them into for them to had been gone that long, I pulled out my phone to give him a call that went straight to voicemail. And after a few seconds, I called again, only to get the same response.
Shit.
While firing off a text to ask the same question I was calling him about - Where the hell are you, cuz? - I asked Jayla, “Are you sure it’s dead? Or is it just turned off? Cause Shaq’s is too, and I know he keeps a charger on him at all times.”
As if the explanation for their absence hit both of us at the same time, my hands stilled on the screen of my phone and Jayla audibly gasped. “I can’t believe her!”
For whatever reason, her reaction made me chuckle. “Relax, Jayla. She’s in good hands.”
“The same hands that climbed his high ass onto the roof earlier?” she challenged, her eyebrow piqued as she continued, “Yeah, Londyn told me all about that. Showed me the video too.”
“I told her to delete that shit,” I muttered more to myself than Jayla, bringing my voice back up to tell her, “Look. Shaq might be a weedhead, pothead, stoner, whatever you wanna call it. But he’s still a decent dude. I mean, he was obviously decent enough to talk your little sis into some… shenanigans.”
“I’m sure it didn’t take much,” Jayla said with a roll of her eyes, returning to the counter to empty a bunch of half-drunken Solo cups into the sink. And it wasn’t until then that I realized that’s what she had been doing before I even came in here, keeping herself busy in Jamila’s absence by dumping out the liquor and tossing the cups into the trash.
“Jayla, you ain’t gotta do all that. I’ll clean up when everyone leaves,” I told her, appreciating the help while also hearing my grandmama’s voice scolding me in my head.
“You don’t let guests do your dirty work, boy!”
She didn’t listen, just kept on dumping and trashing as she replied, “When everyone leaves, you’ll be ready to crash. I might as well help you since I’m still here.”
With that, I figured there was no use in going back and forth with her about it, instead joining in to help her finish the task while asking, “Did you at least have a good time?”
She nodded. “I did. Your friends are… interesting.”
The emphasis she put on the word “interesting” had me quick to defend, “A little different than those bougie boardroom niggas you’re probably used to, but they’re all good people.”
It was that that got her to stop cleaning as she turned my way with her arms crossed and a scowl. “Why do you think I’m only used to bougie boardroom niggas? You don’t even know me like that, Khalid.”
I matched her position, going toe-to-toe as I looked down at her to reply, “You’re right. I don’t. Because you won’t let me get to know you like that.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, her lips twisted as if I hadn’t already made myself clear enough.
“It means… hold on.”
If this conversation was going to go the way I wanted it to, it certainly wasn’t going to happen with a house full of people. So instead of getting to the point with Jayla, I made my way to the living room to kick the last few homies out. “Aight, it’s time for y’all to go. You ain’t gotta go home, but you gotta get the hell outta here.”
There were a few grumbles
about me shutting things down prematurely, a few mentions of needing to get an Uber, and a few others asking about the next one as if housewarming parties were reoccurring things. But eventually, everyone made their way towards the door with Jayla being the last in line as if I was kicking her out too.
In fact, I had to step in front of her to cut her off. “Where you goin’?”
Her face scrunched like I had asked a stupid question. “You just told everyone to leave,” she replied with a little wave towards the door as if I had already forgotten. But I knew exactly what she was trying to do - escape the inevitable, like always - and I wasn’t about to let that happen again.
So I wasted no time making myself clear, taking a step closer and putting a hand to her chin to remind her, “I told them to leave. But I told you to hold on.”
“Khalid…” she breathed as my hand slipped from her chin to the nape of her neck, making sure I had her full attention when I asked, “What are you so afraid of, Jayla?”
Gnawing on her lip, she averted her eyes before she pushed out, “I’m not afraid of anything, Khalid.”
“Then show me.”
Her eyes flashed back up to mine almost panicked-like at the challenge. But I wasn’t backing down, wasn’t about to let this moment slip away from us for no good reason. She knew I wanted her, and I knew she felt the same way about me no matter how hard she was trying to fight it. So even if it took all night, I had no problem waiting for her to make her move or give me the go-ahead to make mine.
She didn’t make me wait.
In the blink of an eye, Jayla’s mouth was flushed against mine as she kissed me like her life depended on it; her tongue slipping past the threshold of my lips to meet mine with slow, passionate swipes and her fingers digging deep into my locs in a way that had me trying to get my own hands on anything I could reach.
The Lessons We Learn (FWB Book 2) Page 8