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“Come where?” I question.
“There’s something under your panties,” he says.
I reach into the box and lift my panties to see a printout beneath them. I pull it out and open it. It’s an itinerary: flights, hotel, and tickets to a mixed martial arts fight in Seattle, Washington.
“Washington?”
“Yeah, to see me fight.”
“A fighter. That explains your body,” I say and he chuckles.
“Just say you’ll come. A nigga want to see you real bad.”
“Then, I’ll definitely come,” I say, still smiling because shit, I’ll be a fool not to.
The End
