“Yeah. They straight.”
She nodded and dug into her chicken. By now, her lunch break was almost over, but she didn’t want to go back inside yet. A comfortable silence fell between them before Heavy broke it.
“What you doing after work?” he asked.
Cyren blinked. The question felt loaded. “Going home...”
He laughed. “You sure? That didn’t sound like it.”
“Because I feel like that’s a trick question.”
“Nah. No tricks this time. Just seeing what you were on.”
“Mhm.”
“I’m asking ‘cause I wanna see you.”
The honesty in his tone knocked the air from her lungs more than any smooth line could have. Heavy was simple and direct. Cyren looked out the windshield at the nearly empty parking lot, suddenly very aware of how fast things seemed to be moving between them and how little she cared but should’ve.
“You’re literally seeing me right now,” she said, softly.
“What that got to do with later on?”
Her lips twitched. “That seems like enough seeing me for one day.”
Heavy was quiet for a moment. He accepted her rejection, knowing it came from a place of fear—not of him, but of what they could become. Or maybe it was him. Heavy felt dangerous to her in ways that had nothing to do with his six-foot four-inch, 235-pound frame, deep voice, or the dangerous streets Cyren knew nothing about, and everything to do with how easily he made her feel seen.
Nia told her to be careful with her heart, and here his ass was trying to steal it. She was going to tell on him. Cyren reached for another fry to give her hands something to do, but her appetite had started competing with the butterflies swarming her stomach.
“It’s not that I don’t want to see you,” she quietly admitted, keeping her eyes on the food in her lap. “I just think we should slow down a little.”
Heavy studied her profile, taking in the honesty in her tone and the nervous way she kept adjusting the Popeyes bag in her lap.
He understood. Didn’t mean he liked it, but he understood.
“Slow down,” he repeated. “That’s what you need?”
Cyren finally looked at him and nodded. “Yeah.”
Heavy leaned back in his seat and let out a quiet breath through his nose before giving her a small nod of his own.
“A’ight. We gon’ take this shit as slow as you need.”
But what is this?Is what Cyren wanted to ask, but she kept her composure. She’d already drawn a boundary, and he respected it. She respected him more for not catching an attitude or making a slick comment to make her feel bad.
“You’re not mad?” she asked.
Heavy looked at her like the question genuinely confused him. “Why would I be mad?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged, lightly. “A lot of men don’t handle hearing no very well.”
His expression slightly shifted at that. “I ain’t a lot of men, sweetheart. You have a right to tell me no, and I’ma respect it. That simple.”
She believed him. That was the dangerous part of him she was scared of. Believing a man was just as rare as deeming one fine. Heavy glanced in the side mirror, watching a customer emerge, before looking back at her. “And for the record, lunch ain’t enough.”
Cyren laughed, softly. “I figured.”
“But I’m coo’ with moving at your speed. Long as you don’t start acting funny.”
