Adrian, the complicated “thing” I’d gotten myself wrapped up in over the past five months.
Adrian was a gentleman, in fine in that quiet, bookish, clean-beard, well-raised kind of way. He was the kind of man who opened doors without thinking about it, paid attention without making it weird, and remembered the smallest details without being asked. He even brought me coffee once without ever asking how I liked it… and somehow nailed it the very first time.
Not to be mistaken, Adrian wasn’t soft. He had just enough roughness in him to keep me on my toes. He displayed that quiet, controlled alphaness I loved in a man. That mix of gentle, hood, slight humor, and dominant wasexactlywhy I kept him around.
When we spent time together, it was easy… and comfortable. We laughed, talked, enjoyed each other’s company, and had great sex, but that was where it stalled. We hadn’t crossed into each other’s real lives—not even close. I didn’t know his people; he didn’t know mine. Hell, I hadn’t met a single friend of his. We existed in this little bubble of school hallways, low-key restaurants, and hotel key cards; a controlled space wherefeelings couldn’t grow too wild. And honestly? I preferred it that way.
I wasn’t looking for anything deeper; I just wanted a little something to take the edge off life. I wanted a man who could give me good dick every now and then, someone besides Klarissa who actually understood the emotional weight of my job, and could make me laugh,really laugh, on a regular basis, but especially on the days grief tried to swallow me whole. Adrian filled those spaces without asking for anything I didn’t have to give.
In conclusion, Adrian had husband material written all over him. He was the type of man women prayed for, bragged about, and built families with, but I wasn’t in a place where “good” automatically translated to I see a future with you. So while Adrian might’ve been looking at me through a forever lens, to me, he was more like a gentle detour in my healing.
My phone buzzed just as I was wiping down my whiteboard.
Lo and behold… it was Adrian.
Thinkof a man, and he shall call you.
I thought about him for a good minute, and my phone, apparently minding my business, decided to put his name front and center. Since you were wondering, it seemed to say.
I considered letting it go to voicemail; not because Adrian annoyed me, but because when we talked, he usually held me on the phone for a good hour. Most days, I was okay with that, but that day, I just didn’t have that kind of battery life in my spirit.
Right as my thumb hovered over Decline, I could practically feel Klarissa tapping me on the shoulder in spirit, saying something slick along the lines of, “I wish you wouldn’t answer.”
I rolled my eyes at my own imagination, then hitAcceptand pressed the phone to my ear.
“Hey, Adrian,” I answered casually, keeping my tone even.
“What’s up,C Baby?”
I cringed so hard I had to close my eyes and breathe through it.
It’s Chesteria to you, nigga!
That was wild. Out of every nickname on God’s green Earth,he somehow picked the exact one Bryce used to call me. No man, other than Bryce, was allowed to call me that. Anybody else saying it felt like someone stepping into a room he still owned.
“Adrian, I’ve told you not to call me that,” I reminded him for what felt like the twelfth time… and counting, third eye roll, and maybe the second coming of the Lord.
Who knows at this point?
Still, I didn’t say it in a mean way; just a matter-of-fact, with the slightest sting, so he understood I was serious.
“Damn… you did. My bad. That’s on me, beautiful. It won’t happen again,” he apologized with sincerity.
“It’s cool,” I murmured, lowering myself into my chair.
My classroom was quiet. The overhead lights hummed just loud enough to remind me that I was still on school grounds.
“So… what’s up?” I asked, tapping my nails lightly on my desk.
"I was just checking in to see how your last day of the semester went. You finally free from grading the million essays and toddler attitudes?"
I laughed softly. "Pretty much. They drained me this year… especially the grown ones who think turning something in late with a sob story automatically earns them an A."
“Sounds like me in high school,” he admitted with a laugh. “Except I didn’t have no sob story… just nerve and audacity.”
That pulled a small, polite chuckle out of me, even if I wasn’t fully there.
There was a small pause, then he cleared his throat. “But nah, I really called to see what you had planned for this weekend. I know the holidays coming up, and I figured you might get booked and busy with family stuff, so I was hoping to see you before all that.”
