The other woman next to him was shorter than her friend, maybe a little over five feet, with a pixie haircut that was dyed burgundy. Her sandal brown skin had a hint of mocha, givingher a red bone look. She, like her friend, was slim but possessed wider hips, and her lips wore a deep red that matched her dark red halter-top dress. I cocked my head to the side and realized that the friends were almost matching. It seemed weird, but then again, it wasn’t uncommon for best friends to match sometimes. Right?
I shrugged it off as I finished examining the woman. She wasn’t necessarily my type, but there was no denying her beauty. While a romantic relationship was off the table, maybe we could keep things platonic. I stood up as they approached the table.
“Dex, this is my boo Rachel and her homegirl Tracy.”
“Nice to meet you two,” I said, extending my hand.
Rachel gave me a shy smile as her dainty hands fell into mine. I moved my hand toward Tracy when she gave me a disgusted look.
“Dex? I thought your name was Dexter.”
I glanced at George before I rubbed the back of my neck. “Uh, it is. Everybody calls me Dex for short.”
“Oh. I guess that makes sense,” she said, finally accepting my hand.
It took everything in me not to ask her what she meant by that. I mean, Dex was my nickname, and out of my whole life, no one but her has had a problem with it. Not wanting to ruin the night, I guided Tracy into our booth with a smile.
“Why aren’t we sitting with them?” she asked, looking over my shoulder.
“I thought it’d be nice to have alone time so we can get to know each other.”
“Hmph. I guess.”
There she goes again with that ‘I guess shit’. I had a feeling it was going to be a long night, so I picked up the menu on the table.
“Would you like a drink?”
Tracy leaned out of the booth and yelled. “Bestie, what you drinking?”
“Girl, I don’t know. Get back in your booth and spend time with your date!” Rachel giggled.
Tracy smacked her lips. “Ugh! I guess I’ll do a glass of Hennessy.”
I nodded and waved the waiter over to place our drink order. I would’ve grabbed myself a beer, but I was driving and didn’t want to risk getting pulled over, so I stuck with a glass of water.
“So,” I said, once the waiter had left. “Tell me about yourself, Tracy.”
“What do you want to know?” she sighed, scrolling on her phone.
“Well, where are you from? What do you do for a living? How old are you?”
“I’m from here, and I’m twenty. I’m in between jobs, but I want to be an entrepreneur.”
“Oh, yeah?” I asked with a lift of my eyebrows. “What type of business do you want to start?”
“Who said I wanted to start a business?” She snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. “See, that’s what’s wrong with niggas these days. They don’t listen.”
My head shook in disbelief. “Whoa! I am listening to you, Tracy. You said you wanted to be an entrepreneur, and I wanted to know more about what business you were going to start up.”
“Just because I said I was going to be an entrepreneur doesn’t mean that I wanted to start my own business.”
I looked around the restaurant before turning around to look at George. Was I getting punked? This had to be a joke because this was crazy. Clearing my throat, I ran my hand down my beard.
“I-uh, I’m sorry, Tracy. How about we change the subject?” I suggested as the waiter sat down our drinks.
Tracy scoffed before picking up her cup and taking it straight back. I had to admit; I was scared as fuck. It wasn’t as if I didn’t drink or had never conversed with other women who drank, but this was different. She threw back half the cup of brown liquor and didn’t flinch. I’m not a punk, but gotdamn. My entire chest would’ve been on fire, especially if I didn’t have a chaser.
“Let’s get to the chase,” Tracy said, waving the waiter back over before ordering another drink. “You’re fine as fuck. Geo said you were nerdy, but I don’t see it.”
