Something Domestic

ITS MONDAY EVENING and your girl is finally off work. That open mic night won’t be seeing me. Sometimes you just have to say no and liberate your time spent to be focused on you and that's exactly what I plan to do, which is NOTHING. I quickly sign out of my computer and quietly rush my behind toward the elevators. There are four of them, yet sadly, two of them seem to only run during specific times of the day: kind of sketchy if you really think about it. I push the down arrow to call for my silver chariot to whisk me away from this glass dungeon we call a building. Ding! The elevator doors slide open immediately and alert the whole floor that I’m leaving ten minutes earlier than I should be. I scan my surroundings to make sure I’m in the clear then enter and press the button forty-two times to quickly descend down to the garage. Shower, eat, meditate, rest – sounds like my type of night! The random stranger shuffles in the corner of the elevator causing me to jump in surprise. We make awkward eye contact and nod in salutation. Shit, was I speaking out loud? Was he there the whole time? My cheeks get warm and I try to shake the embarrassment that probably only exists in my mind. I’m lifted from my thoughts by the blaring ringtone coming from my bag. I begin to look for it inside the disorganization and hit the first button I can feel to silence it. The doors slide open again and I’m out. I make my way to the car and pull out of the garage remembering I need to pick up a few things to eat tonight.

Ten minutes later I pull into the parking lot of the grocery store, obnoxiously bumpin’ my music and singing mouth wide open – perfectly executing every note I might add. I finally make it into the store and routinely make my way through the fruits and veggies first. I have this sudden feeling I’m being watched, but I ignore it and continue fiddling with apples to find my perfect bunch. I pick my head up from the orchard and I’m immediately taken aback by this man giving me all his attention. I smile nervously then drop my head back to the produce as if I can focus now. My word, he is so damn fine. I continue to search for some apples knowing that his gaze has not loosened its grip on me. I’m flattered and to be quite frank losing my patience. When is he going to approach me already? I stared just as long, I mean he has to know that I was shooting my shot with that Cheshire cat grin I gave him, like sir I’m giving –

“Excuse me…” he says sweetly.

He’s next to me now, so close that I can smell his cologne. Chills run through my body and I can’t help but notice I’ve dug my nails into this perfectly picked ambrosia in my hand.

“... my name is Darren.” He holds out his hand. I take it in mine and shake while giving him full eye contact. Apparently, I’m feeling bold taaaaday!

“Kaiden, with a K, nice to meet you.” Damn he’s beautiful.

“I'm sorry to interrupt you but I noticed your PVAMU tee.”

I look down at my chest like I didn’t pick out this shirt this morning.

“Oh, this is my sister’s.”

“Oh okay, so what school did you attend?”

“Sorry, I did attend Prairie View, but this just isn't my shirt,” I shake my head in annoyance. Why are you like this? Get it together!

He laughs and I quickly gather my common sense before he thinks I have none.

“Ah okay, I went to Morehouse…class of 2015”

“Me too!” I say, all too eagerly, “I mean class of 2015,” duh, what else would you be talking about?

He laughs again but this time I think he’s noticed his effect on me. My feet unintentionally start to move towards some other items and he follows. We continue to talk about our time spent in undergrad and the careers we pursued after walking the stage. As he talks about his time at Morehouse, I sneakily run my eyes across his smooth dark skin, clean cut coarse beard, and those eyes with lashes that could blow me away with one blink. I nod a few times to show my attention to his words. But that smile – Lord that smile. His teeth were as white as could be, with lips like petals off a newly bloomed rose. His tee fit snugly across his muscular six-foot frame and his jeans perfectly cup his round –

“So, I guess this is where we stop, huh?”

I suddenly snap out of it and notice we have walked through the entire produce section, aisle by aisle, and yet nothing is in my cart. Smooth Kaiden...

“I guess so. But um, it was really nice to meet you,” I begin to slowly walk off… Switch those hips Kaiden, work those jeans. Make him stop you, stop me!

“Kaiden, wait…,” he shouts.

YES!

“Is it too much for me to ask for your number?”

To be continued. . .