Page 4 of Serenity

Collapsed into a grimace, my face displayed my disdain. Wildly, my lashes fanned my face, seeking to clear my head of confusion.

Craig looked at me with watery eyes. “It helps my contacts when they’re dry,” he explained. “Gets my eyes moist.”

Ignoring my shock, he proceeded to hunt through his nostrils, digging for gold and flicking said treasure into the scenery around us. Disgusted was too poor an adjective to describe my sentiment. His audacity revolted me. To make matters worse, the nigga tried to use the same hand to drape his arm around me. My departure was a forgone conclusion.

We didn’t make it to the waterfall. No lie was required. As his arm rose, my frame dipped, curving away from him.

“You are repulsive.”

Andre

Andre was a day trader. Work hard. Party harder. The motto reigned in a long list of convictions he held despite his groomed presentation.

The perfect gentleman, he said everything right, did everything flawlessly, and looked even better. In a world of dying chivalry, his attentiveness and consideration were appreciated. Months of celibacy left me disinterested in toys and wholly interested in what Andre had to offer.

After stuffing our faces with braised beef and potatoes, I followed him to his condo, intent on being stuffed with him. Up the oak-paneled elevator, down the warmly lit hall, and into the swanky apartment, I trekked beside the man who failed to stop smiling in my direction.

Our battle of lust commenced once safely inside the privacy of his doors. Serpent-like kisses, unspoken salacious wishes, our tongues danced with urgency and need. His hands slid from my waist and groped my ass. My heart paced hard and fast. Hungrily, my body melted into the growing hammer sheathed by clothes. Perfect. Our sexual chemistry lacked nothing.

Without warning, he withdrew from our journey to ecstasy and took a step back from me.

“What is it?”

“Let me just… grab some party favors.”

Dre disappeared down a hall and into a room, returning shortly with a hundred-dollar bill and an eight-ball of coke contained in a clear, plastic bag.

Party favors.

Discomfort was immense, dousing the fire between my legs and quickening my heart rate. I watched as Andre laid two lines of coke out on his quartz kitchen counter, utilizing an AMEX credit card.

“Lady’s first?” He asked, motioning to the counter.

The rolled-up bill was motioned in my direction. The intent was clear. One I ceased to possess interest in. My brows dipped into my face, aiming to connect. My breath caught in my throat as if the air itself was contagious.

Wordlessly, Dior embroidered heels led me toward the front door. Grateful to have driven my own set of wheels, I journeyed backward in the direction I’d come and toward my car.

Readily and willingly, I freed who and what didn’t align with me. In doing so, I welcomed who was for me to enter my world.

Eric

Lukewarm, I wasn’t really feeling the date with Eric. His red flags waved high in the sky, warning me that he wasn’t quite my type. The nervous energy he exuded was a turnoff. From the start of our evening, the conversation had been dry, with me carrying and dominating most of it while he scrolled through his phone.

Far from innocent, I’d only accepted the invitation for an outing due to boredom. My schedule was cleared for two weeks just to invest in reentering the dating scene. A promise to myself was made not to open my laptop and work on some project or event instead. Now, at the close of those two weeks, I daydreamed of proposals, art shows, emails, memos, and charity events.

The check came with Eric hastily grabbing the tab and placing a credit card inside. As we waited for the waitress’ return, I examined my nails, nitpicking at a small chip on my index finger.

“I had a great night,” he confessed.

I didn’t. Silently, I thought, clicking my nails and anxiously awaiting the conclusion of our evening. A small prayer was sent upward in gratitude that I’d driven my own car to Butter & Sage.

The check returned, held by an apprehensive waitress who uncharacteristically lingered at the table.

“Sir, your card decl—”

“Try one of these.”

Hastily, Eric dragged two identical cards from his wallet and placed them in the billfold. My brow hiked, but I resolved to mind my damn business.