The perfect ambiance for a fucking date.
I glance at Miriam. It’s hard to tell if she’s enjoying herself, but judging by herdate’sinability to shut up, my guess is no. Her shoulders slump slightly, and her focus is on the plate of salad she pushes around.
The outfit she wore is very her. An off-the-shoulder sweater and black leggings isn’t a popular choice for an upscale restaurant, but you won’t hear me complaining about the material hugging her thighs, waist, and that ass that spills over her seat. She’s comfortable as herself and doesn’t feel the need to conform to a specific standard. To her, practicality matters above all else. It’s one of the many things I admire about her.
She’s a natural beauty who wears little to no makeup. Her mocha skin glows without it. So does the smile touching her plump lips, but that isn’t visible tonight.
“This jazz band is a vibe, low-key,” Kendrick says, snatching my thoughts from my friend to the quartet in the corner. “We might need to come back next week.”
“After an ice bath,” Quincy groans. “Coach Titan really hates us with those sprints after a scrimmage.”
I laugh at the scrum-half who’s rubbing the collar on his polo and make a mental note to buy another ice bath for the house. “Gotta get that stamina up, Baby Q. Endurance is key.”
The coaches are putting us through it. We face Houston in their house in a few weeks, and we are coming with that heat. They knocked us out of the playoffs last season, and they’ll be a force with the two trades they picked up. We need to come out of the gate strong, especially after the news Coach Washington dropped about Mancini.
My phone dances across the table.
“Look at that goofy grin,” I vaguely hear Kendrick say, too focused on the message preview.
Miriam
Hey, did you eat already?
“Is she texting him from her date?” Quincy asks.
“Stay out of grown folks’ business,” I counter.
I could eat. Dinner not going as planned?
Miriam
You could say that. I’m trying not to be rude and fall asleep.
I roll my lips.
Want me to help you fake an emergency?
Miriam
What?
Her brows fold. Kieran is too caught up in talking to notice that she not only checked out of the conversation, but is texting another man.
Play along.
“Let’s go.” I stand and motion for Kendrick and Quincy to come with me. My phone is already to my ear.
“Hello?” Miriam’s voice is cautious.
“Pretend I’m your sister and I busted my ass on some ice.” I nod to the server for the check and point to the host station.
“Oh no,” she says, convincing absolutely no one. “Are you okay?”
“Not with that fake concern. I could be in the hospital with a dookie bruise that wraps around my butt.”
She snorts but catches herself. “Sounds like you need medical attention. Should I come to you?”
I sign my credit card slip and wink at the older woman behind the host stand. “How about I come to you? I can get dropped off. Text me your location.”
