My brother shook his head. “That’s messed up.”
A little later on the group part of the conversation died down and my focus found its way onto Omyia. Like an introvert out of her element she gravitated toward the corner of the booth, and she was staring at her phone.
“Are you bored or something?” I asked.
She looked up and we locked eyes before a polite smile covered her lips. “No, not that at all. I’m just not used to the scene. I’m one of those people who could spend the entire day in my house if I didn’t have to leave it for work and food.”
I nodded my head because I understood that shit more than she knew. “Believe it or not, I get you. Mama gave all that social shit to his ass. I’on even like people like that.”
She laughed. “Neither do I. I’ve never met anyone who understood that. People are flawed and we expect too much from them knowing they’re flawed.”
“Never thought of it like that.”
She threw her head forward, before reaching for her drink. “I’ve been told I overthink, and I look below the surface of things that don’t even have a surface.”
“I’on think that at all. If anything, you think about the things that other motherfuckers don’t.”
“Enough about my tortured soul and unorthodox thought process.” She sat up and turned her body in my direction.
“What made you get into making and selling your' own candles?”
“Umm. I was twenty-one with a one-year-old and I didn’t want to work for anyone. I had to make it work.” She shrugged awkwardly.
I nodded my head looking at her in a whole different light. She differed tremendously from the females that a nigga was used to. She didn’t throw herself at me or any of that shit that females did. Instead, she was reserved and borderline uninterested. Something about that intrigued me but I had yet to put my finger on it.
Shit, to keep it a buck her mindset and laid back demeanor had me wanting to get to know her. I wasn't used to being curious about a female. I left that to my brother, but then again, he was never curious about their minds. All he cared about was what was between their legs.
“What about you? What do you do?”
“I own a few things to keep busy. I’on really do many other scenes.”
She nodded her head. “Understood.”
We made small talk for the next few hours before she and her girl had to go. Lowkey, I felt odd as fuck asking for her number, because I usually never had to ask. With her it was different though, she didn’t offer it out or write it on a napkin like most would’ve. Instead, she was about to keep it moving, until I asked her for it.
“I hope you intend to use it.” She smiled up at me while she put her seatbelt on getting ready to pull off. Her girl had parked on the other side of the lot, so Mari walked her to her car while I walked Omyia to hers.
“I wouldn’t have asked you for it if I didn’t. That was just me who called you. Hit me up and let me know you made it safe.” I looked up from her just in time to see my brother walking up to me with the biggest smile on his fucking face.
After she pulled off, I walked over to him. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Shit, I did good.” He winked.
“Fuck that sup—You planned that shit.”
“Not initially, but she gave off thatyouvibe.” He shrugged his shoulders as we walked back in the direction of the front door.
“Me vibe? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“You know free but chained the fuck up. Not old but damn sure not young? Shorty gave me that old soul vibe in the gate even when I was thinking about trying it. Her cousin is my speed though. You know I like ‘em throwing that back in the streets not listening to Anthony Hamilton,” he reasoned.
I couldn’t help but laugh because he was honest and gave one hell of a comparison. I did like them laid back and collected more than the life of the party. Not to say there was anything wrong with that type, but those types just weren’t for me. He was right about one thing though, despite her age Omyia was definitely my speed.
When I made it home my sister was sitting in the living room scrolling through her phone as usual. My brother could talk his shit all he wanted, but at the end of the day Namari got to go home without the teenage hormones that I dealt with more often than such. Niema and that damn phone would be the death of me.
“You’re up late. Is there something we need to talk about?” I asked as soon as I bypassed her to the kitchen.
“It’s summer break, Nor.”
