Page 40 of SIN Looks Good On Us!

"I'm good. Just go."

He didn't push it any further. He finished getting dressed in silence while I busied myself in the kitchen, pretending I wasn't watching the clock, and a few minutes later he grabbed his keys off the counter.

"I'll call you on my break."

"Sure."

He hesitated at the door like he wanted to say something else, then thought better of it and walked out. I heard his truck pull out of the driveway a minute later, and the house went quiet in a way that made everything feel worse than it probably needed to.

I dropped onto the couch and tossed my purse beside me before staring down at my phone like it owed me an explanation.

A text notification lit up my screen. The number wasn't saved, but I already knew exactly who it was. I unlocked my phone and opened the message.

I stared at the screen for a few seconds after his last message. My stomach did something I refused to acknowledge. It had been a long time since anybody put this much effort into getting my attention. Kyrie couldn't even keep the plans he made that same morning, yet here was a man I have spoken to exactly once, tracking down my number just to make sure I enjoyed lunch. I couldn’t lie, it felt good. Too good, probably. I looked down at my phone again, thumb hovering over the keyboard while I debated whether responding was crossing a line or simply accepting an invitation. So, instead of responding, I called Armani.

"What's up?"

"Girl, Jokah just texted me."

"WHAT!" She nearly yelled it. "How did he get your number?"

"I don't know."

"Damn, he's persistent."

"Tell me about it." I shifted on the couch. "He asked me to go to dinner with him."

"Bitch, you better go!"

"Armani, I'm not even hungry."

"You better go."

There was a pause on the other end, and then, "Wait. Where's Kyrie?"

I told her about the shift change, the whole conversation, the supervisor position he claimed he needed it for.

She sucked her teeth. "That nigga cheating. He ain't working that damn much. Kiss my ass with that bullshit."

That comment sat heavier than I wanted it to, and I got quiet.

"Listen, sis." Her voice softened, but only a little. "I know you love Kyrie and all, but something ain't right with that nigga. He always got some shit going on."

"What happened to you saying I was overthinking?"

"Bitch, I changed my mind. The nigga cheating. So go to dinner with that fine ass man that sent you hibachi."

"Okay."

"Yesssss bitch! And leave your morals at home."

"I will not." I busted out laughing. "I'm not fucking him because he bought me lunch. You must be smoking crack."

"Crack! Baby, I've made too much money in my life to smoke crack." She said it in that same exaggerated voice she always used, mimicking the late, legendary Whitney Houston, and I burst out laughing right along with her. "And girl please, he didn't just buy you lunch, he catered lunch for the whole damn office. Give that man some kewchie. I know you drier than a desert over there, cause y'all damn sho' ain't fucking."

"Okay bitch, on that note I'm gone. Bye."

"Wait, are you going?"