"Let me take you out."

I'm hallucinating.

No, I'm running mad.

"What?" I phase out of my thoughts.
"Let me... take you out," his jade eyes dilate as his face got closer to mine.
"Not happening," I blurt out.

Wait no, no, no. That's not what I want, or atleast it's not what I think I want. What would my mother think of me?!

Like you give a damn what she thinks. My subconscious mind states.
Well at this point I do.

There is a short pause and I notice him twitch, clench his jaw before proceeding to speak.

"Very well then. I'll inform my team on this proposal and we can schedule a date to meet along with Logan Square and discuss this in depth," his tone is now professional, firm and...and I'm filled with a hint of guilt.

Christian signs the forms, stands and gives an outstretched hand to me. I oblige and shake it, regret growing in my chest.

"It was great doing business with you, Ms Yané," his lips form a hard line.
"Likewise," I look away, and turn back to see him close the door behind him.

***

"Cheers to Friday, ladies!" Kenya toasts and we all join in with our cocktail glasses.

So here I am, with my girls at a jazz club for one reason and one reason only, to unwind. Unwind from all the work load, from my mother's constant calls about James, from everything.

Christian too.

"Who owns this place?" Hannah praises. The room is filled with portraits of iconic African musicians performing at concerts, and the stage has a background of traditional patterned curtains with exotic lanterns hanging from the ceiling.

"Danny," I answer.
"Dan Kubeka?!" Hannah's mouth swung open.
"Yes, after his 'divorce'," I air quote," he ventured into cocktail restaurants, sports bars, and this jazz club opened recently,"
"How did you know?" Kenya nudges my arm.
"I develop enterprises, honey," I pat myself on the shoulder.

"Here I was trying to make this a surprise for both of you," Kenya pouts at me before taking a sip of her drink.

We bask in the jazz music that played endlessly, one songster and songstress after the other.

This was the perfect night show for me. For once I should let my mind wander off, relax and stop thinking about the petty issues that bother my not so perfect life.

"It's getting late," I yawn and grab my empty glass. "Can't we get a refill?"
"Let's go to the real club!" Hannah cheers.
"I'm in!" Kenya raises her hand faster than my mouth could utter no.

"Oh come on, Imani," Hannah pleads.
"But I said I'm tired," I roll my eyes.

"How will you get home?" Kenya asks, and gives Hannah an 'uh-huh' nod.
"Yes, Imani. How will you get home?"

After a second of thought, I knew I was busted.

-

"Remind me again why you called me when you made it clea-"
"I'm getting a headache from hearing you talk," I cut in nonchalantly, massaging my temples as I lean on the armrest of the car.

That or I'm failing to admit his voice is a turn on- but no, it's the headache.

"Rather unkind of you," he replies, but throws a simple smile.
"Thank you,"
"It wasn't a compliment," he mutters.

Just playing along...

"Whatever,"
"You have some ego, Imani," I turn my head at him and notice his uneasiness as he said it.

"Oh, I have an ego? Wow, ok," I scoff.

There's a long pause before we arrive at a red light.

"You're a tough nut honestly," he sighs.

"Glad you noticed! What, you think I'm easy? That I can just say 'Yes Christian, Alright Christian'?!" I raise my voice. I felt the adrenaline rush coursing through my veins. "Well you should know that I'm an independent woman, and that's how I roll,"

"Is that so?" he smirks. Did he even consider the harshness of my voice?

"Yes," I answer quietly.
"An independent woman... I like that," he smiles as the car begins to move once the lights go green.

Did my rage mean anything to him?! Gosh he is just so calm it's getting creepy. It's like one minute he looked annoyed and now he's all flirtatious!

We finally arrive at my house and we look at each other, gazing into each other's eyes.

"Goodnight, Imani," I can't help but admire his facial features all over again.

I can't get enough of him, can I? His beard, which looks different now, I guess he had to trim it down or something.

"Goodnight... Christian," the words escaped slowly.

-

A cloudy day is what today is, and I chose to spend the morning in bed. Or not, because when duty calls, duty calls.

I step into the shower and turn the faucet, which gave me a bit of a struggle, until...

"Shit, shit, shit!" I wail as the water drenched me from the darned faucet that 'decided' to break.

I rush out the shower and wrap a towel round my body, padding into the bedroom in search of my phone.

"Come on, pick up," I say to myself impatiently, " Yes! Kenya, I need help and before you judge me, I know I like doing things by myself but this is completely out of my control,"

"What's this about?" She asks nonchalantly.
"The faucet in my shower broke and water is gushing out uncontrollably and I need help!"

"You do know I have only one person to turn to who can fix this, right?"
"At this point, all I care about is the water not causing a flood in my house!" I snap.

"Calm down,calm down. I'll call Christian," she drawls and ends the call before I can even protest.

Minutes pass and I manage to fix my hair and dress in plaid pants and a plain white T-shirt. The doorbell rings and I know what to expect.

Or atleast I think I do.

His eyes are the first sight to see when the door swung open, this time his ombre honeyblonde hair is tied to the back, and in his signature outfit; a grey button down shirt and black denims with work boots.

"Hey," I greet him.
"Hey," he smiles down at me.

This happens to be the first time we actually stand before each other like this. And as usual, I am the short one, not that I wish to be the bigger person here.

"Kenya called, said you had a bit of an accident?"
"Well, we better get to the scene of the crime before it gets worse. Come in," I'm surprised at how I'm not snapping at him or shouting at him like I 'usually do'.

He takes a quick step back at the water that splashed on his shirt and looks around the room.

"I think I need to find the main tap outside, please use your God given loud voice to let me know if the water has stopped running, ok?" He instructs just as I roll my eyes at his description of my voice.

"Fine," he walks past me and the water suddenly splashes onto his entire back.

"It's alright," he says, unbuttoning his shirt quickly.

Oh damn...

And all that is left of Mr Greear is an undershirt, making his arms stand out. I notice the many tattoos that covered the wrist of his hand to the elbow. That's not bad at all.

"I'll just hang it outside to dry," and with that he's gone.

Once the water ceased to flow, he returns with his tool box to fix the faucet. And as he worked, all I did...well, there wasn't much to do there but stare at him.

I watch as his shoulder blades and muscles flex while he tightens the faucet with his wrench, just in amazement of his body movements.

"What caused this to happen?" He questions as he placed his tools back in the box.
"I wanted to take a bath, that's what,"

"Well," he tries it and the water escapes before he quickly tightens it to close, " it's fixed now,"
"Thanks," I lean on the shower frame.
"Anytime," he bends over to close his toolbox next to me.

My body jumps and he gets back up.

"What?" he chuckles.
"You touched my ankle,"
"My arm just so happened to get in the way that's all," he approaches me.

The proximity between us is almost nonexistent, his eyes never leaving mine.

"Would you like to visit me sometime?" He whispers.
"Why?" I look up and his head bends lower, hovering over me.
"I could teach you how to make clay pots?"
"Pots?" I arch a brow at him and he chuckles again.
"You'll love it," he assures me.

"I'll see," I smile.
"First time I see you do that," his head draws closer.
"Do what?"
"Smile,"

Oh.

"Really? It's your first time?" I gape.
"Imani in all honesty, you're always either serious,tired, pissed, annoyed, mad..."

True.

"...at alot of things. Or is it just me?"

Maybe not.

"I don't know," I turn to the side and feel his hand on my chin, tilting it so I face him.

"I won't judge you based on your outward character, so relax," his voice is raspy at the end.

"I am relaxed," I lie.

My heart is racing and the beating in my chest is probably loud enough for him to hear.

"Well, I better go get my shirt from outside,"
His hand leaves my chin and pats my shoulder.

Wow, he didn't even kisss meeee. When last did I even get kissed?

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