He was haughty, but not too much.
He was confident, but not too much.
He was cocky, but not too much.
He was possessive, but not too much.
He was entitled, but not too much.
He was foolish, but not too much.
Ishmael was just the right amount of everything.
“Why didn’t you cancel the date?” He asked, crossing his right leg over his left and bringing his hands together.
He hadn’t looked over his shoulder once since he’d sat down. Rugger’s claims sat with me. He wasn’t worried about dying tonight, because he knew he wouldn’t. He wasn’t going to allow it and neither was I.
I didn’t have an answer to his question. So, I didn’t respond. I kept my eyes fixed on him, falling deeper into his trance with each breath I took. Lovingly, hopelessly, I adorn his handsome face.
“You are aware that this is all make believe, yeah?”
Ishmael uncrossed his legs, leaning forward again. He hesitated, choosing his words ever so carefully.
“Then make me believe it,” he demanded, “Because the shit happening in my head and heart ain’t made up. It’s real.”
I quieted, expanding and shrinking in my seat, simultaneously.
He’d said everything I’d been thinking. He’d unrooted everything I’d been burying.
“Here we have stuffed shrimp, smothered in our seafood bisque sauce. We also have our lobster spinach dip with seasoned, freshly fried garlic chips, and cognac. Anything else I can get you right now?”
“No. Not at the moment,” I assured Grace.
“Alright. I’m going to get out of your way. Let me know when you’re ready to order.”
Suddenly, my appetite had vanished. So had my vocabulary. I had nothing to say. Just big, unprecedented feelings that I hardly knew what to do with.
Ishmael dug into the spinach dip.
“Eat your food,” he demanded.
My fingers moved faster than I would’ve liked had I had control of them. Still, everything was in slow motion. I used a fork to slice open the stuffed shrimp.
“You’re not allowed to date, Royce. Not unless that nigga’s name is Ishmael Grayson. Anybody else getting beat the fuck up or a bullet right where it ached at the realization that you didn’t take heed to my warning.”
“I’m a grown woman, Ishmael Grayson.”
“Grown and free are two very different terms. Please understand you’re not both.”
I filled my mouth with an array of flavors. They were all pleasing to my tastebuds, receiving a nod of approval.
“Are you going to stare at me the entire night?”
“I am.”
I chuckled, knowing Ishmael was no liar.
“I think you’re stunning, Royce. What better is there for me to sta–”
