4
I bolted upright in bed and cringed at the sight of myself in the dresser mirror. I had spent most of the night after Ryan Boyé left thinking about him, ended up getting really hot and bothered and found it hard to sleep. So I watched hours of YouTube videos, everything from Trader Joe hauls to wig reviews, until I finally crashed and burned around three that morning. A quick glimpse at the screen of my phone advised me that it was 5:00 AM, and judging from the multitude of missed calls and text messages from Nicky, it was most likely her outside my place leaning on my doorbell, which felt like it climbed out of the box in my hallway and slammed directly into my eardrum, snatching me from a sound sleep. I scratched my half-unfauxlocked head and climbed out of bed in yesterday’s clothes, stumbled to the door and snatched it open with a deep frown on my face while yelling, “Damn, will you stop ringing my doorbell?!”
Ryan Boyé’s left eyebrow lifted, and his eyes instantly shot to the hot mess of a bird’s nest on my head, so I slammed the door in his face, muttered, “Shit,” under my breath. Raised my voice and said, “Give me a second!”
My eyes darted around the living room for…hell, I don’t even know. A scarf, a hat, another identity, a hole to crawl into for the rest of my days…
“Ms. Strickland?” he called through the door.
“Uh...just a minute!”
I owned at least a trillion and a half scarves, but at that moment, I couldn’t think of where to find even one.
I spotted a t-shirt I’d tossed in a corner and grabbed it, wrapped it around my head turban-style, and took a deep breath. Of course he’d notice I was still wearing yesterday’s clothes, but at least I didn’t look like a seasoned crack head with my head covered. I returned to the door and eased it open to find him still standing there, but his back was to me, and my eyes involuntarily dropped to his butt. Dayum!
He spun around and I looked up at his face, attempting to smile warmly, but he was making me nervous again, standing there looking like he was looking.
He held up some papers. “Sorry to drop by this time of morning, but I have an early flight. Wanted to get this back to you before I leave town.”
I took the papers and studied them like I’d never seen them before. “Oh, the application,” I mumbled, like there was some other reason for him being there. Either my lack of sleep or his lack of being unattractive was tampering with my brain.
“Yeah…so how long do you think it’ll be before you can let me know something?”
I frowned as I looked up into his eyes. Hazel-green with flecks of golden brown… “Know something?” I asked.
“About whether or not I can lease the apartment?”
I released a nervous giggle. “Oh, forgive me. Haven’t had my coffee. I’m…I should be able to let you know something in a couple of days.”
“Great! I’d need to move in next Monday.”
I nodded. “That’ll be fine. Be looking for a call from me.”
“Will do. Thanks, and sorry again for the inconvenience.”
“Oh, no worries.”
I watched him descend the front steps as Nicky came screeching into the driveway and parked behind my car. As Ryan backed into the street, Nicky bounced up my steps, and shrieked, “Who the hell was that?! Got-dayum! He was fine as baby hair!”
As I led her into my place, I said, “Someone trying to rent the apartment.”
“He need a roommate? He could be my next ex any day! Shoot!”
I collapsed onto my sofa and rolled my eyes. “Hear you tell it, any man could.”
She took a seat in one of two zebra-print accent chairs. “See, and we were getting along so well.”
“Uh, you’ve been ignoring my calls and texts for weeks.”
“But I texted back last night, and you didn’t even have the decency to let me know everything was okay after you sent me that cryptic message.”
“And it took you all night to start worrying about me?”
She shrugged. “I was busy with Warren last night.”
“Who is Warren?”
“Someone I just scratched off my list of potential husbands. He left for work this morning without washing his ass. You know how I am about hygiene.”
“Mm-hmm. So that’s why you’re up so early? Because he had to go to work?”
“Yeah…he said I could stay there as long as I wanted, but I left after he skipped out of there with yesterday’s funk still on him, and I’m not tryna go home right now in case Daddy is there and is still on that BS about me getting a job. So I thought I’d come check on you. When does Mr. Sexy move in?”
“I don’t know if he’s going to move in at all. I need to do the background check and stuff.”
“Girl, are you nuts? As fine as he is, he should get an automatic pass.”
“That’s not how I do business, Nicky. And besides, a serial killer can be fine.”
“Name one fine serial killer.”
I thought for a second. “Valid point, but I’m still doing the background and credit checks.”
“I guess, if you wanna do all that work. Or…you could just let me rent it.”
“Like you said…we were getting along so well. Why ruin it?”
She gave me a smirk. “Whatever.”
*****
“Hello?” His lazy drawl crawled through the phone line and settled in my right ear.
I held the phone for a moment, hoping he’d repeat himself so I could hear his voice once more before I began to speak. The background check had told me he was originally from Louisiana, but he now called Houston his home.
“Um…hello?” he repeated.
I smiled. “Mr. Boyé? This is Angela Strickland from Tennessee? I’m calling about your application…”
“Yes, yes. Can you hold on for just a moment?”
“Sure.”
He must’ve muted the phone, because silence now filled my ear. I wondered if he was with someone, an intimate someone. Then I wondered why I cared. I was against relationships, vehemently against them, thanks to Benny and Khalil. I was also against men. But something stirred inside of me when my eyes first beheld Mr. Ryan Boyé a couple of days earlier. Something that I had been trying to ignore, something that made my head hurt to think about. Desire.
I glanced down at his application—employed with Sable, Inc., impressive salary. Single. Fine. Okay, so his fineness wasn’t on the application, but it was embedded in my psyche.
I shook my head as I shifted my focus to the results of the background check—clean. And the credit check? Man, I’d kill, borrow, and steal for a credit score that good! He was almost too good to be true, so I told myself he was probably gay. Only that would explain how no one had snatched his gainfully-employed, handsome, good credit-having ass up.
Thankfully, he finally returned to the phone, cutting off my thoughts before they went any further in the wrong direction. “Hey, sorry about that. I’m at work trying to put out some fires. So, you were saying?”
“Well, I was saying that the apartment is yours if you’re still interested. All I need is the deposit and first and last month’s rent along with your signature on the lease.”
“Great! Like I told you, I’ll be paying the entire six-month lease up front.”
“Even better. So, see you Monday?”
“Bright and early. Thanks, Ms. Strickland. I travel a lot for work overseeing projects, and I hate staying in those residential hotels. You renting me this apartment is truly a lifesaver.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Hey, sweetie, it’s Mom. Just checking on you. You and Renee should call and check on me and your daddy more. We’re getting old, you know. Call me back. I wanna talk about the menu for the anniversary dinner. Love you. Bye.”
“Hey, Angie. It’s Renee. Wanna do lunch tomorrow? I’m missing you, little sis. Call me back.”
“Hey, Ang…huh? I’m on the phone trying to call my sister! No, I don’t know where your wallet is. What? You think I’m a damn thief? Nigga, really? Ain’t nobody robbed your broke ass!”
The last message, which was from Nicky, abruptly ended, and I sighed as I peeked out the window at Ryan Boyé carrying a box into his apartment. He was still gorgeous, and as I watched him, I pondered whether or not this was a good idea, letting someone who looked like him move in, because he was exactly what I didn’t need in my life. I turned away from the window and walked a few paces into the kitchen where I just stood in the doorway and stared at nothing in particular. My mind was in an I’m-attracted-to-a-man-but-I-don’t-want-to-be fog. I had worked overtime, weekends, and holidays to build a life that excluded even the mere thought of a romantic relationship, had told myself I didn’t need a man, and I really didn’t. But damn did I want one right at that moment, and I wanted the one who was carrying boxes from a white SUV into the dwelling that was attached to mine. How was I going to survive six months of living next door to him?
My eyes scanned the kitchen, and then I decided I was thirsty, reached into the refrigerator and pulled out a can of soda. Then my other hand reached in and pulled out another one, and my feet started moving to the front door like I was on autopilot or something. Opening the door, I saw that he wasn’t outside, so I walked over to his place to find the door open but him nowhere in sight.
“Hello!” I yelled inside.
No answer.
I just stood there like a lost puppy.
He finally appeared in the living room and jumped when he saw me, snatching a pair of earbuds from his ears before giving me a smile that sent a jolt of electricity to my core.
“Aw, man. You startled me.”
My eyes tried to find something other than him to focus on. They failed. “I’m sorry. I-uh-thought maybe you were thirsty since you’ve been working so hard and it’s pretty warm out.” I pushed the can toward him. “Do you drink soda?”
He took the can, his fingers grazing mine for only a second. A second too long, because my knees actually weakened a little. Shit, I really needed to get a grip.
“I do. Thank you,” he said.
I nodded and glanced around at the boxes littering the floor. “Need any help?”
“No, I think I got it, Ms. Strickland.”
My skin prickled at the way he dragged out the Ms. “Your accent…what part of Louisiana are you from?”
“Born and raised in New Iberia. Haven’t lived in Louisiana in nearly six years. Can’t seem to shake the accent, though. Does it bother you?”
“Oh, no. I love it.” Love? Really, Angela? Really?
He smiled again. “Good.”
We just stood there staring at each other until my sense kicked back in, or what little of it I had around him, and I said, “Well, I’ll let you get back to it.”
“All right. Thanks for the drink.”
“You’re welcome.”
I turned to leave, and I swear I could feel his eyes on me. Yeah, being around this man was definitely robbing me of all of my common sense.