“That’ll be cool too,” he shrugged again, and I felt bad.
“Look, I don’t want to beef with you. I swear I don’t. I just did what I would want someone to do for me. Truce?”
“Yeah, we straight,” he mumbled. “Can I smoke in here?”
“Huncho.”
“What? The weed will mellow me out, I swear to God. I’m a smoker. Weed makes everything better.”
“Let me turn my air purifier on.” I stood up and walked back over to the corner of the room that the air purifier was in.
I sat back down and scrolled on my phone while Huncho rolled his blunt. Babysitting him hadn’t been in my plans, but I would rather be doing that than to let him leave.
“Boy, the way you looked at me when I asked if you were trying to give me some pussy,” Huncho laughed, and I lifted my head with a snarl.
“That’s not funny. It was actually kind of disrespectful. I met you once and had a ten minute conversation with you. Plus, you’re a kid. What I look like offering it up to you on a platter?”
Huncho’s smile vanished so fast it was almost comical. “A kid?” He leaned forward and stared straight in my face without blinking. “I’m twenty-four-years-old.”
“Anddddd I’m thirty-one. So respectfully, to me, you’re kind of still a kid,” I shrugged unapologetically.
“Yo’ old ass got me fucked up,” Huncho murmured and went back to rolling his blunt, meanwhile, my jaw slacked.
“Huncho.”
His brows hiked, but he didn’t look at me. He just kept rolling his blunt with a stupid smirk on his face.
“You are mad close. Mad close.”
“To what?” he chuckled.
“Getting on my bad side. The truce is about to be dead.”
“Why?” Huncho peered at me as his tongue sealed the blunt. “You can call me a kid, but I can’t call you old?”
The amused gleam in his eyes had my nipples tingling, and I didn’t like it. In fact, the frown that covered my face had more to do with my arousal than his words.
“Just smoke your blunt. Thanks.” I went back to my phone and seconds later, the potent smell of marijuana filled the air. I didn’t smoke, but I loved the way weed smelled. I had smoked a few times in college, and I didn’t trip out or anything, it just wasn’t something I had to do all the time. I was fine with drinking.
“So you wouldn’t date a guy my age?” Huncho broke the silence after about ten minutes.
“Nope.” I didn’t even look up from my phone.
“It’s a seven-year age difference. You act like I’m twenty or something. I have a job, my own place, a car, no kids, and money. I’m a good catch.” I could tell by his tone that he was borderline offended. “And I’m working on a college degree.”
Finally, I looked up at him. “A seven-year age difference a lot for me. Especially when you’re not stable. By stable I mean, are you in the career you see yourself retiring from? Got a retirement plan in place? How much could you have even put in a 401k if you have one? You’re not a child, but I just don’t think we’d be on the same level as far as maturity. I’m past the clubbing phase, and the sneaky link thing. I want a cultured man. A distinguished well-traveled one that possibly speaks another language fluently and has seven figures in the bank.”
“Get you a limp dick sugar daddy. That’s yo’ business. I hope he dies on top of you like that old coon did shorty inThe Color Purple.”
Once again, my jaw slacked. “What the hell is wrong with you?” I half laughed while trying to pretend I was more offended than I was.
“It’s all good, baby. If rubbing Icy Hot on niggas is your idea of foreplay I can dig it. A man with my stamina might be a bit much for you.”
“You seem pretty sober to me. Get out.”
That made him laugh. “You can dish it out. You have to be able to take it too, baby.”
The way he called me baby and wrapped his lips around the blunt had me ashamed of myself. I had just declared to Huncho that I wanted an older, cultured, distinguished man, and his little young ass had my yoni throbbing. It had to be because I hadn’t had sex in a minute. My hormones were making my body react in ways it shouldn’t be.
