“I’m pissed, but I’m good.”
“You want to talk about it?” she offered.
“There’s not a lot to talk about aside from what I’ve already shared and what you overheard.”
We finished eating in silence because I had too much on my mind to converse, and Malyah probably didn’t know what to say. I’d been with her since early afternoon, and although we spent most of our time getting her belongings secured, I didn’t want to wear out my welcome.
“I should probably head out,” I said after standing and gathering my trash.
“You don’t have to unless you're sick of me and ready to go.”
I chuckled. “I’m not sick of you, but I’ve taken up enough of your day.”
“You spent your day moving almost everything I own into a storage unit, so I would sayI’vetaken up enough ofyourday. If you’re ready to go, just say that.”
“I enjoy your company, so it’s not that I’m ready to go, but my mother kinda fucked up my mood with that bullshit, so I won’t be the best company.”
“Stay.”
Kenzo wentto his car to get the gym bag that he kept in his trunk because he wanted to shower. For the seven minutes he was gone, I sat in the center of the bed, wondering if I’d done the right thing by asking him to stay.
I thought I sensed his attraction to me last night but then remembered my situation and wouldn’t allow myself to believe he was attracted to a poor, homeless woman whose life was a complete mess, with no signs of getting better any time soon.
When he hit me with the proposal, I was shocked, but his explanation cleared some things up. His apology seemed heartfelt and genuine, and after hearing the conversation with his mother, I somewhat understood his desperation.
A knock on the door pulled me out of my thoughts. Kenzo entered, carrying his gym bag and offering me a smile.
“You sure you don’t mind me chilling here with you for a while?” he asked.
“I’m positive. I can find a show or movie for us to watch if you want.”
“That’s cool.”
“Do you have a preference?”
“Whatever you choose is fine.”
He rounded the bed and headed to the bathroom.
“If I choose, it’ll be a baking show, and I’m sure you don’t want to watch that.”
“I really don’t have a preference. Give me ten minutes to clean myself up.”
He disappeared into the bathroom, and I logged into my streaming app, grateful I’d paid that bill at the end of last month. I didn’t know if I wanted to watchDessert WarsorSweets in the City, but by the time Kenzo stepped out of the bathroom, shirtless in a pair of basketball shorts, I didn’t care to watch either.
“Did you decide?” he asked as he put his bag on the couch.
He turned to face me, and my eyes raked over his tattooed chest, down to his abs, which looked to be chiseled into a six-pack, then landed on the V-cut that led me to his dick print that I’d made famous in my mind.
“Malyah?”
“Huh?”
“Did you decide?”
“Oh, no. I, umm . . . Do you have a shirt in that bag?”
He smirked and looked down at his chest.
