“Mmm, I think I know what that means.” I shook my head because I knew it was something illegal.
When the light turned green, instead of going straight, Amir made a smooth right turn in the middle of the street without flicking his blinker. We rode a good way before he ended up slowing down and easing the car toward the curb.
Up ahead, a halal cart sat on the corner, and the smell of the seasons and different flavorings seeped through the closed windows.
Amir parked, cutting the engine but leaving the music low. I reached for my door, and then he spoke up.
“Nah, stay here,” he said, already reaching for his wallet. “
“I got you. I’ll order everything.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. This is your first time, so I have to order it for you to make sure you get the right food. I’m sure you picky as hell, like most women.”
“That’s true.” I grinned shyly.
He stepped out and walked toward the truck. The owner greeted him, and I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but the head nodding, laughing, and smiling from them both made it seem like they were familiar with each other.
At least twenty minutes went by as Amir waited outside the food truck, and I sat in the car watching him. Every few seconds, he glanced over his shoulder back toward me, clearly keeping his head on a swivel for more than one reason. The streetlight caught how sexy he was, almost in a cinematic way. The kufion his head sat perfectly, and the Cartier glasses he had were enough to make him both gangsta and mysterious, to say the least.
There was something about the way he stood. All calm but alert, with his hands relaxed at his sides, posture straight without trying. When the man inside the truck handed him the bags, Amir grabbed them, reaching out with one hand while the other slid into his pocket. He pulled out cash and dropped it into the tip jar, making the man in the food truck smile even brighter than when he first approached.
Watching him from the passenger seat, I felt a nervous flip in my stomach for a completely different reason other than fear. He wasn’t even trying to impress me, and that somehow made me want him even more, but I wasn’t about to deal with the same rejection I got the other night. If you could even call it that. He did enjoy the little show I put on.
Amir opened the driver’s door and slid back into his seat. My stomach tightened instantly when the scent of the food hit my nose. It smelled even better inside the car. He reached behind him and carefully set the white plastic bags on the backseat.
“So, what did you get?” I asked, turning slightly to look over my shoulder.
He started the car before answering, one hand on the wheel while the other adjusted the bag so it wouldn’t slide.
“I got some chicken over rice, and lamb over rice, because I wasn’t sure which one you’d like yet. There is white sauce on both, with a little hot sauce, but not too much because I wasn’t sure you could handle much spice. There is also extra pita on the side and fries. Oh, and a couple of sodas because they didn’t have much else cold.”
My mouth watered from all the food he was describing, and I couldn’t wait to dig in.
Instead of heading back toward the streets we came from, he went in the opposite direction, driving a few blocks in silence, then merged onto the Brooklyn Bridge.
“Where are we going?”
“Somewhere quiet where I can enjoy my food in peace. You're not in a rush to get to that room, are you?”
“Of course not, I’m fine.”
“Yeah, I agree. You are that.”
I couldn’t help but flash a smile at that response.
We crossed the bridge, then he pulled into a parking area near the water and cut the engine. When I finally paid attention to the view, I saw he had brought me to Brooklyn Bridge Park.
Amir reached behind him, grabbed the bags, then opened them one by one in his lap and handed me the top container.
“Careful. This shit is still hot. That’s the lamb, try that one.”
“Perfect.” I rubbed my hands together.
“Thank you for this, Amir. Everything smells so good.”
“It’s really no problem. I needed this just as much as you. Now dig in and tell me what you think.”
