“And your knees still shaking,” she shot back, grinning.
I sank into my seat and tried to focus on the court. The Skylines were warming up, red jerseys flashing beneath the lights. My chest finally settled, right until the aisle behind us filled with a low rumble of male voices. Mel’s eyebrows lifted first.
“Oh, no way,” she said, eyes widening.
I turned, and there he was again—him—fresh shirt, same calm swagger, eyes sharp. Behind him trailed a sibling-looking copy with a chain and a grin that could start problems. They stopped at our row, tickets in hand.
“What’s up, wifey?” His voice came in deep and lazy, but there was purpose underneath it. “You in your man’s seat. Lookat you, getting comfortable in my atmosphere.” His mouth tilted, amused. “Slide over for me, mama. Let me sit where I can protect my peace.” His deep voice drawled, amusement curling at the edge.
My mouth parted, but my brain stalled out somewhere betweenWho he calling wifey? andWhy it sound like a future instead of a joke?No sound made it past my throat.
Mel, however, was already in motion, mischief dancing all over her face like it was housed there. “Oh, weabsolutelymoving for your man,” she announced, making an executive decision on my behalf. She traded seats with me before I could gather my dignity.
He dropped into the spot beside me, his long legs folding into the narrow space like he belonged there, as if the seat had been waiting for him. The scent of cedar and soap moved with him, smooth, confident, wrapping around me like a good song when the bass hit. My throat betrayed me as I swallowed twice.
Get it together, I scolded myself.He just sat down.He didn’t propose.
My body didn’t hear the logic. My body heard his voice. It heard the way he saidmamaas if it was more than just a nickname. It felt intimate, like he knew my middle name and all my soft spots, and I desperately yearned to hear him say it again.
“I’m sorry about your shirt. I can pay for the cleaning,” I managed, because my manners were the only thing standing upright.
He laughed low, warm, and unbothered. He turned to me, eyes steady, present. Intentional. He was choosing this moment on purpose.
“Don’t insult me, baby,” he said, soft but firm, correcting a thought that didn’t deserve to live in my head. “That’s a small thing to a G.”
I blinked, still nervous. “I’m serious.”
“I am too,” he replied, and something about the calm in his tone made my stomach flip. “Listen?—”
He lifted a hand like he was breaking it down in simple math. “A little spill isn’t a loss. It’s a trade.”
“A trade?” I echoed, because my brain wanted to argue, but my heart was already leaning in, invested.
He nodded, his mouth curving. “Yeah. The shirt got stained, but I got introduced to you. That’s a profit.” His gaze dipped to my face like he was reading me, then came back up. “I don’t pay attention to temporary mess when it leads me to permanent alignment.”
Permanent alignment? Lord. Why is he flirting like he has a degree in it?
My cheeks heated, and I attempted to look away, but it felt like his eyes had gravity.
“Besides,” he added, his voice dropping an octave, “if you hadn’t spilled it, I would’ve walked right past my blessing like I don’t have no sense. And I’m not that kind of man.”
The wink that followed was controlled and calculated. He knew exactly what it would do to me—he was soft crash-out energy wrapped in tenderness and theology.
I looked for an exit that didn’t exist. My lungs forgot their job. My heart started acting like it had a crush on my future.
This man is dangerous.But I wasn’t afraid of him. I was in awe.
Mel clapped her hands once. “Yaaasss, accountability and flirting: my favorite combo.”
The fine stranger didn’t break his composure. He glanced at Mel like she was background noise, then looked back at me as if I was the main event.
“See?” he murmured, voice for me only. “The universe already co-signing.”
His look-alike leaned forward, elbows on his knees, looking me over like déjà vu. “Damn, you pressed over that shirt, ain’t you, pretty lady? You don’t remember me from The Pour House, huh?”
I blinked. “You were—Oh, the guy that asked about Mel when she left?”
He snapped his fingers. “I knew you’d remember. I told this fool you were fine and professional. Didn’t know you’d be adorable as hell too.”
