“No, my brother-in-law got my ticket, and the game will show in reruns, so we’re on. I guess that’s the upside of missing the game. I don’t have to miss tonight with you.”
Michelle looked at him closely, perhaps judging his sincerity, but she didn’t reply. She shrugged her shoulders and mouthed the word okay.
That was enough—that and the way she looked tonight. Though she was sitting down, he could see that she didn’t have on her usual leggings or jeans. She had dressed a bit for tonight. Over what looked like a brown satin camisole, she had on a brown lace cover-up that fit close to her body and that went down to her thighs. She also had on brown palazzo pants that widened at the ankle, flaring out like a dress, and she had on low black heels. Instead of her usual sweater, a long, brown African mudcloth wrap hung on the back of her chair with her purse.
Her long hair had fresh curls at the ends, and a piece of material that matched her cover-up circled her head from her nape to her crown, ending in a neat knot above her left ear. If he was right, her face had a little extra makeup, as well, just enough so that he could see the extra care she’d taken.
It was enough to make Rashad look twice and value what he saw—a beautiful woman. He looked down at his standard white shirt and slacks and wished he’d done something else. At least he could grab his coat and tie from the car when they dropped off their portfolios.
“You look great tonight,” he whispered as the teacher walked in.
She smiled and turned to the front of the class, which was all on composition and started with a slide show. For their first drawing exercise, they had to create an arrangement with twenty abstract and unrelated objects. This focused his attention on the task at hand, even if part of his mind was waiting for it to be over.
At the end of the class, they turned in the assignments from their portfolios, and he finally got a look at Michelle standing. In low heels, she was only a couple of inches shorter than he was.
“You must be something like five-eleven, right?”
“What?”
“Five feet eleven inches tall.”
Her brow wrinkled, but she confirmed it. “Yes, how did you know?”
“I have about three inches on you, but not when you have on heels. You look great tonight.”
“You said that before.”
“I mean it again.”
“Thank you.”
Michelle had gathered up her things and turned to him. “Where to now?”
“What do you feel like eating?”
She made a guttural sound and slumped. “I hate that question. Anything. I feel like eating anything.”
“I checked, and there’s a little bit of just about everything around King Street.”
Michelle held up her hand and waved for him to follow her. “Let’s walk and talk before it gets too late.”
“There’s a burger place off King Street. Oh, there’s a Southern place called King Street Blues. I think we can walk there from here. How about that?”
“Yes. There. Quick. Decisive. No pondering.” Michelle chuckled. “I hate that question, but thank you for asking rather than just deciding. And, yes, Southern will be fine, but not fried. I can’t gain another pound or my clothes won’t fit, and I don’t have wardrobe bucks until I pick up some extra hours at the coffeehouse over the summer.”
Rashad knew Michelle well enough to let that go. But he filed the reference under possible things to get her for Christmas.
After they stored their portfolios and supplies, they decided to head straight for the restaurant rather than linger along King Street and chance having it close on them. Michelle had on her mudcloth wrap and looked like an African queen. Rashad took her hand as they maneuvered through the groups touring the street. She was leading, and he didn’t want to lose her, but it felt good to have her hand for other reasons, too. She looked back at him and smiled, plunging them along through the crowd.
“Does this place ever quiet down?” he asked once they made it to the restaurant.
“I’ve been at Regina’s shop until midnight, and there were still people in the streets,” Michelle said.
“That’s right. I’d almost forgotten. Did we pass it?”
“Yes, but I can point it out on the way back, when we have more time.”
The restaurant was still open, and they were seated right away.
Rashad took Michelle’s hands in his while they waited for their late-night meal. He saw her get still and quiet, but she didn’t take her hands away. Instead, she smiled at him.
“I like the feel of your hands,” she said. “They’re strong.”
“Yours are soft. I like that, too.”
Unfortunately, it wasn’t long before their dinner arrived, and Rashad had to let Michelle’s hands go for what they’d ordered. The ribs were tender, the cornbread was moist, the greens were well peppered and the cobbler was juicy. It was a real Southern meal.
“Does it compare to what you get down home?” he asked.
“Yes, it does, but no one can top my uncle’s ribs or my mother’s cornbread and cobbler. This is like home when you’re on vacation.”
“Good. I’m glad you like it.”
“What about your family traditions? How many brothers and sisters do you have?”
“I have three brothers, no sisters.”
“But you said your brother-in-law got your Redskins ticket.”
“One of my brothers is gay. His partner is my brother-in-law.”
“Good for them.”
“I’m glad you’re cool with that. Thank you.”
“No thanks needed. Was your family okay when he came out?”
“Long story short—no.” Rashad chuckled. “At least not my father. But he got over it, I think. I hope so for my brother. What about you? Any siblings?”
“Nope, just me.”
“Michelle the bad girl.”
“Well, I did grow up.”
Rashad could tell there was more to that, but seeing that Michelle didn’t go on, he let it go. They talked about art for the rest of their meal. When they turned to the cobbler, the conversation changed. With the main course gone, he regained her hand, and when he caressed her fingers, hers caressed his back.
“I know it’s soon, but I really, really like you,” Rashad heard himself say. “I—I don’t know what else I planned to say. Just that, I guess.”
“I like you a great deal, too.”
“Do you date much—since your divorce, I mean?”
Michelle got quiet and still again; even the fingers that had been caressing his ceased to move.
“No, I haven’t dated at all. I’ve just been trying to re-create my life—to arrange things so that I could go back to school, work, raise my son. It doesn’t leave time for a whole lot, and I haven’t really been interested in more than that for a while.”
“Would you be interested in dating now?”
She shrugged. “It’s hard to balance everything. I’m not sure if there are enough hours in a day—or a week.”
She hadn’t gotten his real question.
“What about me? Could you see yourself dating me?”
“I think so,” she answered.
Rashad’s chest swelled, but he tried not to show it.
“What about you?” Michelle asked. “What have your relationships been like?”
Now it was Rashad’s turn to get quiet; he had to admit what he didn’t want to admit to this particular woman.
“I’ve dated a lot but nothing serious. I’ve been waiting for the right person.”
Michelle squinted her eyes and did a double take. “Nothing serious? What does that mean?”
“My relationships,” Rashad said, “have all been mutually superficial. I hate to say that, bu
t it’s true.”
Michelle took a deep breath and looked Rashad straight in the eyes with those translucent brown pools of hers. When she finally spoke, it was slow, and he could read the disappointment in her tone.
“My life is a bit too complicated right now to have a mutually superficial relationship, Rashad. I can’t do that.”
They had finished their dessert, and she started to get up.
She turned back, looking around the restaurant. “We need the check.”
“I’ll get that, but wait.”
She had started to leave again.
“Wait. Don’t go. I’m not asking you to do that. I don’t want that with you.” This much, at least, was true. Now that he knew she wasn’t married, he was even more interested in her. He could allow himself to be interested in her.
“What do you want with me, Rashad?”
That he didn’t know.
“I don’t know. I only know that I almost kissed a married woman when I thought you were married, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since I met you, and I’ve never talked to anyone the way I can talk to you. That’s all I know. What do you want with me?”
He had gotten hold of her hand, and he drew her back to the table.
“I don’t know,” she finally said. “I guess I just know that I like spending time with you.”
Rashad couldn’t help but smile.
“But I don’t want a casual thing.”
“Deal. Let’s see where this can go, and no casual thing. Either we become friends and nothing else, or we become something real. No in-between.”
“Deal.”
They both took deep breaths as the rough patch between them fell away. Now they could relax.
He paid the tab, and, as they left the restaurant, he put his hand on the small of her back. She looked up at him and smiled.
“I like it when you touch me that way.”
“I want to touch you more,” Rashad said softly.
“Let’s not rush into things,” Michelle responded. “Let’s figure out what we want first.”
Still, he saw a shudder move through her shoulders and could tell that she was responding to his touch, his voice.
“Okay.”
They walked slowly back toward North Union Street, window-shopping along the way and stepping inside some of the stores that were still open. They paused in front of the art galleries and a couple of advertisements to talk about the pieces using their newly acquired knowledge from class.
Rashad had taken Michelle’s hand, and she took his arm as they strolled. She pointed out the mosaic and beadwork studio that belonged to her cousin’s wife, and Rashad wanted to go in—mainly to meet some of her family but also because the pieces were fabulous. Unfortunately, it was late enough that the studio was closed. They would have to come back another day.
This time, when they got to Michelle’s Ford Fiesta, Rashad took her in his arms and pressed her body against his. He expected her to hesitate after their conversation, but she lifted her arms to his neck, smiling, and tipped upward on her toes to meet his lips.
The soft pressure of her lips and the floral aroma of her perfume filled his senses, and the way her curves pressed against him made his body rigid. When they broke from the most sensual kiss he had ever had, Rashad teetered back, drunk on the moment.
“Was that as good as kissing a married woman?” Michelle asked.
“That was infinitely better,” he said and let out a long, shaky breath, his body wanting more.
Michelle gasped and looked at her watch.
“Oh, no. I’m going to be late getting my son.”
“How long do you have?”
“Fifteen minutes.”
“Let’s go. You’ll be late five minutes, at most. Honk if I get too far ahead of you.”
Rashad turned toward his car, turned back to give Michelle one more brief kiss and they were off.
Chapter 5
Michelle stuck her hand inside the vase she had finished painting and handed it to Regina to go in the kiln.
“The flowers are done on this one.”
“They’re beautiful. Are you sure you don’t want to be an artist?”
“I’m sure I do want to be an artist, and I want to apply it to advertising.”
“I stand corrected. You’ll do wonderfully.”
“Thank you for the support. I need it.”
“No, you don’t. You’re doing great.”
Michelle painted in her spare time and sometimes did ceramics with her cousin Nigel’s wife, Regina. It even brought in a bit of change for her now and then. But she did it because she loved it and because it was great to practice on something real, something that would be used.
She had this Saturday off from the coffeehouse, so she spent the morning doing homework and the rest of the day at Regina’s, where Andre got to paint a piece of his own. He would be staying the night with Nigel and Regina because Michelle had a date—a real Saturday date—with Rashad. She had only been about five minutes late the Wednesday before last, when she had stayed after class to have dinner, but she didn’t want to risk being late after class anymore, and a Saturday gave them real time to spend together. Still, she hesitated.
“Are you sure you’ll be okay with Andre tonight? You have little Sharon, as well, and she’s only twelve months.”
“Yes, Michelle. We’ve had him overnight before. He’ll be fine with us. Go out for a change.”
“I don’t know.”
“It’s been over two years since your divorce, and you haven’t seen anyone. Don’t go from a wildflower to a weed. It’s okay to have a life.” Regina got close to her, ignoring her hesitation. “Is he cute?”
Michelle couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face. Regina gasped.
“He is! Tell me.”
“Well, actually, he’s a bit like Nigel. Not in looks, but in character. He’s always doing something nice, and he’s sweet and he’s talkative.”
And he has no idea what a wild girl I used to be or how horrible my marriage was. Michelle thought those things, but she didn’t say them. It would have been admitting her flaws, and she didn’t want to say them out loud, not even to her supportive cousin-in-law. Oh, and he’s only dated casually. But we have that cleared up, I think.
“And he’s as handsome as all get-out. It should be illegal to look as good as he does.”
“Uh-huh. Sing it, sister. That never hurt,” Regina said and chuckled.
“Oh, I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do. You go on and have a good time. It’s been a while, so take it slowly, but it’s time to get out there again. Don’t wait until college is over and then until your career is off the ground and then until Andre is grown and then until whatever it is. It will never be finished until you’re finished. Nigel and I can watch Andre more, especially now that Sharon is here. And you watch Sharon for us more than enough. Let us do a little for you, too.”
“You both do...so much for me. I don’t know how to thank you.”
“You just did, and you always do. Now go on. Get made up and hit the town.”
“It’s just dinner and a movie.”
But Michelle smiled nevertheless. She was excited to go out with Rashad—for real.
“Where are you going?”
“I don’t know. He says I haven’t seen D.C. in the two years I’ve been here, and he wants me to see some of it. But we’re starting with the basics.”
Michelle had washed her hands and was gathering up her purse.
“I’m going to pop upstairs and see Andre before I go.”
“Sure,” Regina said, shooing her toward the door. “But don’t take long.”
“I won’t.”
&nbs
p; After checking on Andre, Michelle hopped in her car and went home to get ready for the evening. She didn’t have anything fancy, but it was only a movie, so something nice would do.
She was ready when Rashad buzzed her doorbell at six.
“Come in. The downstairs door is open, and I’m upstairs on the right.”
In moments he appeared at her open door.
“Is that safe—for the downstairs door to be unlocked?”
“I don’t know, but it always has been.”
“You should mention that to whoever manages the building.”
“Actually, I have. No change.”
“We’ll have to see about that.”
Rashad had on a brightly colored shirt for a change, and he wore it with black slacks. He also had a heavy lamb’s wool cardigan over one arm and a bag in the other hand.
“Is it cold out?”
“Not yet, but it will be tonight and at the movie. I should have left this in the car, but I took it off on the way up.”
Michelle grabbed her sweater and purse, but Rashad was still looking around. “Where’s Andre? I thought I would meet him. I brought him these.”
He handed Michelle a bag of toys.
“He’s at my cousin’s. You didn’t buy these, did you? Toys are expensive, and he has toys. You can’t buy his approval, you know.”
“I know, but I thought I’d try.” Rashad chuckled. “Actually, most of these are my nephew’s. He’s too old for them now, so I thought I would pass them along. These are new.”
Rashad pointed to games and learning programs that went with a computerized tablet.
“Trying to get him hooked on the computer early, I see. We do have one.”
“I know. Or I figured—you being a student. But these are his very own, and all the new programs are for his age-group.”
“Rashad, you didn’t have to. This is too much.”
“No, like I said, my nephew outgrew most of this. Here, this is for you.”
He pulled a DVD from the bottom of the bag.
“I didn’t know about flowers or chocolate.”
Michelle took a serious step back. “Don’t tell me you didn’t know about chocolate,” she said, her eyes sparkling with humor.
In His Arms Page 4