#to make myself the problem and make my sex journey the thing under the microscope | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aleapoffaithfiction · 5 years

Text

VIII.

“And you? You my destiny.” - Shyne

“More wine Mr. Marshall?”

Whether you’re from New York City or not, we’ve all in some way, shape, or manner ogled over the renowned skyline and created our own fantasies of everything that it is supposed to represent. Whether we’ve fed into the brutalizing gangster narrative painted in The Godfather or tried to figure out life and love along with the famous four in Sex and The City, it’s meaningful and will always represent either a new beginning or the backdrop of your wildest journeys and dreams. Tonight, as I’m in the midst of its beauty, it’s serving as a testament to either a potential new beginning or a distaste of some sort. I’ve been too focused on the soothing waves lightly rolling along the Hudson River and the patrons dinning around me to be able to figure out which predicament I’m actually in.

“Bring the bottle.” As my lips curved, my eyes panned over to the barely touched glass on my side of the table and they eventually landed on him. I’m assuming that was supposed to impress me and it might of if we were a bit more acquainted with one another. I’ve never been cozy with overindulging with any type of alcoholic beverages while on a date, because I need to be of sound, mind, and body in order to properly comprehend body language and most of all, the dialog between myself and the person I’ve chosen to go out with. Even with this so-called history that Quinton believes we have with one another, I still don’t trust him enough to expose my comfort zone with him. He’s not Taylor.

The River Café. It’s uniquely right under the Brooklyn Bridge and literally over the river. I’ve heard more than enough people rave about it for it to be in contention as one of the elite restaurants in borough and there’s no hiding the reality that it is also one of the most expensive places to have a bite to eat. Its romantic ambiance sets the mood with the dim lighting and panoramic views but in my opinion Dom Salvador, the Brazilian samba funk innovator, is the true main attraction. I’ve found myself nodding my head and occasionally snapping my fingers along to many of the tunes the celebrated pianist played since we’ve arrived. Quinton deserves credit for taking my stomping ground suggestion into consideration. Being in Brooklyn is a reminder of where we’ve come from, but sitting in this stunning restaurant in the heart of Dumbo, is a testament of how far we’ve come. Touché.

“How is your fish?” I chose the black sea bass as my main course. There was something about it being sautéed with lobster brown butter that attracted me to it over everything else. It was served with grilled artichoke ravioli and fresh artichoke. It’s pretty good, I can admit. The gnocchi I had for an appetizer may have been slightly better, but I’m not complaining. Quinton began his dining experience with an ounce of caviar that immediately cost him a hundred and eighty bucks. Caviar tastes like shit, so I wanted no parts of that.

“It’s really good. I’m enjoying it. And your steak?”

“It’s decent. I’ve had better.” I didn’t expect him to show up in a suit, but he did, in politician blue. In that field, your head can never leave the game. Who’s to say that he won’t run into some multimillionaire that he may need some campaign contributions from or maybe he’ll shake hands and kiss babies with a few supporters before we call it a night.

“Have you eaten here before?”

“Once before. It was a business dinner.”

“It’s my first time here. I’ve heard about it, but I never kept it in the back of my mind to come. I’m impressed for the most part. The location is literally perfect.” That it is. I can even say hello to our France gifted Statue of Liberty from here.

“It is right?”

“Absolutely.”

“So, let me ask you this. Why sports?”

“Why not sports? Don’t get me wrong, the sports industry within itself has a lot of bullshit within it but what industry doesn’t? You just have to learn how to move amongst the vultures. Overall, I don’t think a lot people realize how sports are one of the primary aspects of life that brings people together. When you step into those arenas, stadiums, or fields, you see people of all ethnic backgrounds sitting together, uniformly, and basking in the moment. Sports drive our emotions, serve as our conversation starters and endings, are reasons for our road trips, and bring tradition within our families. They began lifelong friendships, cure pain, and have served as a shift within this country and many others for centuries. I fell in love with them. They’re what thrilled me ever since I was a child and I had a parent who advocated for that.” I’ve gotten that question a lot; sometimes in a sexiest manner and on occasion, out of genuine interest. I’d like to think it’s what I was meant to do. I have a high regard for our nation’s doctors, lawyers, business people, artists, and everything else, but I’ve never had a passion to be anything else other than who and what I am right now.

“I don’t know. I’ve always thought you’d end up being an actress or some type of model.” Should I be insulted by that? I don’t know. “Why?”

“Of course, you’re beautiful, but you’ve also always been great at speaking and being expressive.”

“So, then we can attribute that as to why I’m so good at my job now. Why politics?”

“It wasn’t always my passion. Initially, I wanted to be a forensic scientist. Well, now that I think about it, I guess I always wanted to be involved with the justice process in some aspect. I’d like to think that’s what politics is but just in a much grander fashion.”

“Justice? So that’s all you’re in it for? The justice aspect of things?” I find that hard to believe. Sure, politicians have power but, in my opinion, it’s typically for all of the wrong reasons when it comes to most of them. I’ll give credit when it is due to those who actually do bring about the shifts in culture, growth, and renewal that they speak of but other than that, I’ve never been drawn to anything about it. I’m no American flag waving, super patriotic chick. Most would say I’m living the modernized American dream since I have no husband or children within my home seemingly by choice, but what the hell is the American dream anyway? What makes it the ultimate goal?

“I’d be liar if I said that is the only thing on my mind. I do want to make a difference, but not only within this city, but also within this country. For me, that’s a duty much like it is for a military officer who willingly signs up to protect and serve, but politics comes with networking unlike any other and that’s the type of networking that I need so that I can continue to take not only myself but also my businesses to new horizons.”

“I see.”

“You sound displeased.” His soft chuckle followed the sound of his fork hitting the plate. He then took a sip of his wine and leaned in to get a better glimpse at my facial expression.

“I’m not displeased. I can’t or won’t knock your hustle.”

“My hustle?”

“Everyone has a hustle.”

“This is true. I haven’t heard that word in quite a while but we know it well, being from here and all. Let me ask you this about your hustle Sarai. We all know and see how well you’ve done for yourself. We’ve applauded it and continue to do so. But is that it? All that you want to do with that powerful voice of yours is use it for sports? You only want to lend your voice to analyze, occasionally critique, and celebrate a bunch of pompous athletes who will never do the same for you in return?” This man has a lot of nerve.

“I lend my voice to what moves the world no matter what is going on. As I said, sports are a vital part of the culture of not only this country, but the entire world. People turn on their televisions every day, tune in through mobile devices, tablets, and whatever the hell else, just to be able to hear what I have to say. Those pompous athletes you speak of approach me whenever they’re able to catch me out somewhere and they either thank me or humbly admit they can understand why I critiqued something they did. I have no problem lending my voice to them, because they’re ordinary people with once in a lifetime talent, who live their lives under microscopes of misjudgment and scrutiny. As a politician, shouldn’t you understand that? Aren’t you supposed to be a voice for the people?”

“Yes, for the people.”

“And they’re people just like anyone else is.”

“I see bigger things for you. I always have. Why do you think I’ve been so adamant about us having a moment like this? It’s not only because I’ve always been attracted to you and interesting in having something more, but also because I want you with me during this journey. I believe that we can really get out there and make a real difference within this world. The Obamas were just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to black faces like ours being in positions of power. I don’t want what Barack accomplished to be a one and done because that’s what these white motherfuckers are working their hardest to make sure of. No one’s pushing back enough as far as I’m concerned but I’m going to be the one to do so.”

“You just said that you saw me becoming an actress or a model and now all of a sudden, I’m Michelle Obama’s successor? That’s funny. Ultimately, I’d like to believe we’re both already making a difference. No?”

“We are, but we’re just in the early stages of it. We’re still gold fish in a world full of sharks. You want to get ahead in this world? Not only do you have to be a shark too, but in our case, we have to be the sharpest ones because we don’t get to slide by with mediocrity like the others do.”

“I agree with that in some aspects.”

“Sarai, I don’t want to do this alone and this country prides itself on the foundation of family. I need a family. I can’t continue running for these higher offices without a wife by my side and eventually, a couple of children too.”

“You just said Sarai I don’t want to do this alone, and then you went on to explain all of the political reasons why you need me. What am I supposed to be? A prop? I’m not into politics. I’m a Democrat by default and it’s only because it’s the lesser of two evils. That’s all I have in that department and as far as I’m concerned, I’m fine with it. In addition to that, is that what our foundation is supposed to be? You’d be sliding a ring on my finger, when? Tonight? Next week? Maybe a month or two from now? And it’ll all be for the sake of you continuing to catapult your political career? Excuse my French, but you must be out of your fucking mind Quinton.” The octaves within our voices hadn’t shifted whatsoever and if anyone were closely observing us, you’d think we were two people gleefully enjoying one another over a candlelit dinner and yet the reality is, propositions are being laid out on the table and underhanded insults were being slipped in somewhere in between them.

“Your mother said you would say that.”

“My mother? You spoke with my mother about this? Oh yeah, you are the idiot that I’ve always thought you were.”

“An idiot? So, you’re calling me an idiot for having yearned for you for all of these years while you deliberately ignored me? I’m an idiot for ignoring the advances of women of many different statures all for the sake of having Sarai Nazaire, the around the way girl, as my wife?” I nearly spit out the wine swirling around in my mouth onto the table in response to the manner in which he said my name. He’d said it like I was some damsel in distress who needed his rescuing.

“Are you blaming me for decisions that you made on your own accord? You chose to ignore those women. You could have done whatever you liked. Also, I wasn’t ignoring you. I had a lot going on and I wasn’t in a place to nurture a relationship.”

“But you were in enough of a place to be with Shamel?”

“I didn’t do much nurturing of that.” And neither did he. I tried. If no one will give me credit for it, I certainly will give it to myself. I tried to be a lot of things for that man but from his perspective I came up short in every category. There wasn’t a single aspect of me that he believed to be more than or even just enough for him.

“And even with our history, there isn’t anything about you and I that makes sense?”

“What history? Are you speaking of our friendship or the one time we slept together? I hope for the sake of us walking away from this table with somewhat of a decent connection to one another, that you’re speaking about our friendship.”

“I’m speaking about everything; everything that happened and everything that you resisted. You’ve never given me a chance.”

“What do you think I’m doing right now? Why do you think I’m sitting here? I’m trying to give you a chance and yet you’re sitting there propositioning me instead of courting me. Am I supposed to be flattered?”

“I am courting you. I want to court you. I’m not trying to jump into all of this as quickly as you assume. I’m simply letting you know my intentions. I don’t want to date you just for the sake of dating. I want us to work towards having a future together.”

“How can I feel good about hearing something like that when I know that it comes with a motive?” If he and I were to choose to move forward after this date tonight, I’d know that there may possibly be only a small portion of our union that has some authenticity to it.

I’ve never considered myself to be the hopeless romantic type of woman who idly sits around waiting for my prince charming to show up at my door in shining armor and sweep me off of my feet. I don’t even know what I want or need out of love. Far more than anything else, I believe that aspect of life is the most complex and it doesn’t seem to have the patience for me, and that’s alright I suppose because the feeling is sort of mutual.

Even in admitting that, I can’t fake it until we make it with Quinton. I’m not capable of smiling until my cheeks feel like they’re going to shatter, while I pageant wave at crowds of people as a figure within his enormous shadow. We’d eventually become something more corrupt than Watergate and more scandalous than Clinton and Monica Lewinsky. We’d unravel in a manner that this country has never seen a First Couple ever do before. He’s barely tolerating my resistance now, so imagine the reaction he’d have to it once his ego is unbearably and uncontrollably colossal.

“With the places that we’re at within our lives, everyone who we encounter that shows interest will have some sort of a motive.” I, too, have had thoughts that mirrored his. I’ve observed women toss out all of their integrity for a chance encounter with someone prominent and affluent enough to raise their stature within society.

I’ve had men offer to buy me a drink at bars just to be able to speak about their glory days as a high school athlete while noticeably slipping in desires that they believe I can help them with. There are family members who I’ve probably only spoken to once or twice since my birth who have given odd interviews to tabloids for a few bucks about aspects of my life they know nothing about. So, while his statement holds its truths, how can I ever live comfortably if I believe anyone who I encounter has it out for me?

“Well Mr. Politician, let that be so. I won’t applaud you because you’ve made your motive known, but I will politely decline your offer. You’re not a bad guy Quinton. You’re just not my guy. I don’t know who that is or where he’ll come from, but I’d rather wait a lifetime for a man that I’m going to actually have undeniable chemistry with rather than force something for the sake of political bliss. You’re asking me to sacrifice everything about who I am and what I stand for, for you. I’d never ask that of you or anyone else. As you said, there are women out here who would love to be on your arm. Stop turning them down and open yourself up to finding the one for you. Do that for yourself, because this is a cold world and I’d hate for you to have to lay next to someone at night who you don’t even love because you want to sit in the highest office in this country. It’s not worth it, at least for me it isn’t.”

While staring at him, I raised my arm to move one of my tight curls out of my face. Suddenly, my lips rose into a grin that quickly erupted into a giggle. The morning I woke up against Beckham’s chiseled chest with his arms tightly wrapped around my body, he joked about my hair being in his mouth at one point while we slept. As we lay there, he switched my name during every sentence that spilled from his rose toned lips. I was Diana Ross, Donna Summers, and Chaka Khan. He even joked that if I’m going to keep my hair like this, then I’d have to put on one of those bonnets that black mothers wear outside to embarrass their kids. I hadn’t laughed so hard since the last time we were together. It seems like all of my laughter comes from him being around him these days.

“You’ve made your choice. I guess I have to live with that.” He grabbed the bottle of wine off of the table and refilled his glass to the edges of the brim. He then tightly gulped it down while my eyes washed over the motion of his Adam’s apple. The tension radiating from his frame snatched what was left of my appetite. We certainly don’t have to bother with dessert.

“You’ll be living with a choice that’s what’s best for both you and I. You don’t want me. I’m sure if I allowed it, you’d climb into bed with me tonight, but anything more? It’s not realistic. I’ve never felt wanted by you and you’ve never felt that from me. We both deserve more. If you don’t believe so, then I do. I deserve someone who looks at me like I was born to be his. I’d prefer to be with a man who indisputably wants me and only me.”

“Well I hope you find that, Sarai.”

“I’m not looking for it. If it comes my way, then that’s amazing. If not, I’ll be alright.”

Silence fell between us and once again, my eyes were gazing out at the striking scenery surrounding the restaurant. As fucked up as it sounds, this would have been a beyond perfect date if that unknown man that I speak of were sitting across from me tonight. Instead of tension, there’d be flirtatious giggles and glances of affection. My heel clad feet would be intentionally grazing against his calves to entice him just as much as he’d be doing to me simply by existing.

While speaking, my ears would be listening to anything he chose to say while my eyes would be reading the clear message of him having every intention to have me gripping the sheets and crying out his name in our bedroom, within his. Not being able to take it anyone, we’d call for the check with half eaten plates in front of us and would waltz off into the night with a care or concern about anything or anyone other than one another. In a perfect world, that’s how things would be, but this world isn’t perfect and neither am I.

“Check please.” I guess he wants to get out of here just as bad as I do.

“Quinton, I’m going to go. I can cover this if you’d like.” I ruined his night. It’s the least that I can do, right?

“There’s no need for you to do that. You’re here by the way of my invitation. I have it under control. Enjoy the rest of your night.” Everything about his tone reeked of dismissiveness and yet I’m unbothered. I get it.

“I’ll see you around, okay? We usually catch one another at church from time to time.”

“I suppose so.”

Upon my arrival to the restaurant, we greeted one another with a huge hug and yet as I’m making my exit a few minutes short of an hour and a half later, I can feel his cold glare following my every move. I insisted that we meet here instead of allowing him to come and pick me up from my place. I’m not comfortable with too many people knowing where I rest my head at night. I know him well enough to know he’d surprisingly pop up at my door and that would easily leave a bad taste in my mouth, so I saved him the future embarrassment and myself the annoyance. With the way this evening ended, my driving here was clearly God being on my side.

Though the night was barely young, boredom coerced me into cruising around Brooklyn for the hell of it. It was my favorite past time in my hooptie Honda Civic during those summers when I’d be on break from college and had time to spare after putting in the necessary hours for whatever internship I was working for that particular summer. There’s something about it that makes me feel close to my father. I’d turn corners on familiar blocks and those great memories of the two of us taking this borough by a storm would come to the forefront of my thoughts. I’d remember the conversations we’d have with him endlessly dropping knowledge for me to carry with me on life’s journeys and the constant words of reassurance so that I’d always know how proud of me he was. We’d playfully debate about who is greater between Michael Jordan and Magic Johnson, why the Fresh Prince of Bel Air is better than the Cosby Show, and why Allen Iverson will never be my husband. In his neighborly manner, he’d speak to everyone sitting out on their porches and would even buy ice cream for whatever kids were outside if the Mister Softie truck was around. Though my mother would scold him for spending so carelessly, he did it anyway.

It’s cold now. The sidewalks don’t have girls jumping double-dutch, boys aren’t riding by on their bikes, nor are people sitting out on their porches scoping the scene and gossiping about what’s hot on the block. Those memories aren’t coming to me either. Instead, my mind is consumed with something or rather someone else. It’s funny how that works; do you call it a crush or infatuation? Interest or just simple attraction? I don’t know how to define it but this is the first time I’m learning just how out of control our emotions can be.

On the surface, you can put on a performance like you have it all together and absolutely nothing can faze you, but internally? There’s this train wreck on an endless loop. This doesn’t feel like a train wreck though. Instead, there are flutters within the core of my body. Chills trickle up my arms and onto the napes of my neck, and trigger goosebumps that linger around enough to unnerve me. My toes curl, chest tightens, and taking breaths becomes a task to focus on. My duties and concerns for those beyond myself now includes an additional person. How has it come to a point of me not wanting to fail him? How did I get here?

I don’t know how to navigate any of this. I’m a small fish taken out of a pond and thrown into an ocean of the unknown. What now? Do a swim and explore what may be one of the most beautiful experiences of my life? Do I stay right there in the one place I landed and resist learning or exploring everything out of fear? Do I hopelessly swim and end up getting viciously eaten up by something that is beyond me? Shamel was easy, frustrating as fuck, but easy nonetheless. Easy became toxic but in the midst of that, I never had to think this much. We just co-existed. I fear the expectations. I may not live up to the fantasy style of hype that circulates about me.

Just as Quinton had mentioned, I’m the cool around the way girl who can carry a conversation with the dudes probably even better than I can with the chicks. I’ve seen men on social media deem me to be the type of wife who can make the platter of hot wings and then come and flop down on the couch to watch the NBA Finals with my man. It’s possible, but I’m so much more than that. I have my baggage and bullshit with me too. Is that okay? When the make-up is off, my hair is up in the sloppiest ponytail ever, and a t-shirt three times my size with some socks and Nike slippers are covering my body, will I still be the fantasy? When I’m nagging about something that’s irritating me, having one of those days when I don’t want to be bothered with anyone or anything, or having some sort of a mood swing because Mother Nature is running her monthly course, will everything still be all good? I don’t know.

“Oh, fuck you Fantasia. Fuck you.” I’d been letting Apple Music do its thing by allowing my own playlists to flourish while I drive. Having the formatting on shuffle made the transition from Biggie’s “I Got A Story to Tell” to Fantasia’s “When I See You” completely catch me off guard. I’d quickly gone from being lost in my thoughts to listening to Fantasia sing them.

“Screw that.”

I switched to a playlist filled with the Best of The Bad Boy Records Era. I kept the sappy and moody vibe, with just the right amount of Hip-Hop added in for the drive back into Jersey. I saw my home in my rearview mirror as I slowly drove past it. Though I should have parked in my garage and called it a night, my hands remained attached to the steering wheel and my foot pressed on the gas to continue the journey to the person and place invading and conquering my every thought. In one of our many conversations we’ve had, we discussed how many cars he owns and all three of them were very much parked in their usual spots, but the additional cars were a warning that he had company in the house. Somehow, in the back of my mind, I knew that he did, and yet I’ve come here anyway.

I remained unnoticeably parked in his cobblestone driveway for minutes in an attempt to gather my thoughts. It feels like I’m the one who’s pursuing him nowadays. I’m the one in an odd chase.

Hey. Are you busy?

Seconds later, the bubble appeared at the bottom of the screen.

No. What’s up?

I’m not sure what vibe he’s giving. There’s something about that reply that seems short or rather standoffish.

I’m in your driveway.

And looking desperate as hell while at it.

Come in the house. I’ll have someone unlock the door.

I’d be uncomfortable and fearful of what could or would go behind the walls of his home. One innocent slip up with the wrong person could easily cause a world of trouble for me more so than him.

You think maybe you can come outside?

What am I thinking? The man is on crutches. That wouldn’t be fair.

Never mind. I know you have company and I don’t want to disrupt. I’ll just come by tomorrow.

It’s what I should have done in the first place.

Give me five minutes. I’ll come outside.

It was less than five minutes. Despite the crisp cold air, he crutched himself out of the door in a pair of Nike shorts and a hoodie. There was one Virgil Abloh designed Jordan I on his one foot and of course his protective boot on the other. I suppose the beanie hat covering his blonde curls is what is supposed to serve as his protective barrier from the chill. Once he opened up the passenger side door, he tossed his crutches into the back, and carefully slid into the front seat. For the sake of comforting his ankle, he used the side panel on the bottom of the seat to adjust it further back from the normal position it’s usually in.

“Sarai. What’s up?” He finally closed the door and I couldn’t be any more thankful. The fall air was beginning to win against the low heat I had going in the car.

“Nothing major. How are you?” His large hands reached up to readjust his hat as he responded with a shrug.

“Chillin’. Nothing major for me either. I went back home to Louisiana for a couple of days. That was cool.”

“That’s good. I’m sure it was good to get a change of scenery since the injury has had you so cooped up in the house.”

“Yeah, it was a nice little visit. I got to kick it with my brothers and my sister. We even did a family dinner and both my momma and my pops were there. That shit rarely happens these days, so, I’m pleased with how it all turned out.”  “Did you visit LSU?”

“Not this time. I’m going to visit later on in the month. I’m designing an exclusive Air Force I with Nike and I plan on giving the whole team pairs. So, while I’m down there, I’ll probably kick it at a game.”

“That’s dope. I’m sure they’re going to appreciate that coming from you. Not only are you a hometown hero, but you’ve certainly cemented your legendary status within the LSU history books.”

“For sure. I care about giving back but in this case, I definitely care about inspiring those boys to know that I haven’t done anything that they aren’t capable of achieving.” His humbling spirit is a major part of the foundation that draws me to him. It exudes itself during any conversation he’s having.

“That’s real.”

For the first time since he sat inside of the car, our eyes met and he slowly panned his own down to assess every aspect of my frame. His lips flattened as he tightly pressed them together and with a slight nod, he turned his head forward just as it had been before.

“How was the date?”

Breathless; it’s how he left me. I opened my mouth to speak and whatever words I thought I mustered up to tell him instantly fell flat.

“You’re not wearing a dress like that to church.”

“It was thought provoking and extremely disappointing.”

“And that’s why you’re here?”

“No.”

“Then why are you here? Let me correct that before you assume. I’m not bothered by your presence. I’m anything but that. You’re just confusing. I spend a lot of time trying to figure you out and I feel like I understand some areas and I come up short in others. I’m just wondering if you’re here because things went badly with him.”

“I’m not here because of that. I already knew how things would go with him before I even went but I needed to, because he’s been in this weird state of limbo and has been filled with hope for years and I needed to know why. Now I know.”

“And that’s all it was?”

“That’s it.” It’s been years since I explained myself to a man. Shamel and I ended damn near four years ago and I despised explaining myself to him because I was made out to be a liar no matter what I said.

“So, you’re here now. Now what? We talk and you run depending upon the way the conversation goes? Or is this the official moment when you friend zone me?”

“Odell, I’m not friend zoning you.” A huff escaped my lips as my fingers trailed from the top of my head and through the curls cascading over my shoulders.

I couldn’t bear to look after him after blurting out what I’d been so afraid to say. Early on, I attempted to keep him as nothing more than a random figment within the professional realm of my life. That failed. I then chose to view him as an acquaintance I run into from time to time and that flopped before I could put it to the test. After spending all of those days in the hospital, the friend zone felt appropriate and as if it could be a success between he and I, but I’d been telling my mind a disastrous lie that my emotions refused to adapt to.

“I just don’t know how any of this works. You say I’m confusing and I can be, but this is just as confusing.” I motioned between he and myself for emphasis.

“Well let’s figure it out.” The intensity of his glare silenced the mental clutter. The tone of his voice created a safe and comfort zone unlike any other.

The warmth of his palm met the top of my hand and I instantly flipped it over so our palms could meet. Our fingers laced, interlocking everything we weren’t saying and sealing a deal we’d yet to make.

As the faint music played, the clock grabbed my attention.

“I have something for you.”

“You have something for me? Like what?” His lips curved into that all too familiar smirk of his and his eyes blissfully gleamed. Rather than saying it, I exited the car and quickly made my way to the trunk. I’d been riding around with the box and garment bag in there for over a week and now I can finally cure my anxiousness.

“What’s that?” Again, I didn’t say anything as I leaned in from my side and passed them over so he’d be able to place them on his lap.

“Open the box first.” Once I closed the door, I turned the heat up just a notch more. I didn’t think fall would be hitting this hard. Usually the weather is all over the place, but this year, that shit seems to be no joke. We’re going to be brutalized with snow at the rate things are going.

“Okay.” Like a kid on Christmas, he rubbed his hands together in glee and quickly lifted the lid off. In an instant, he erupted into a booming fit of laughter. I had to join him, because it was so infectious.

I have decent friendship with Angelo Baque, who is more the former brand director of Supreme. We met two years ago at New York Fashion Week and we’ve remained in touch ever since. He even had me model in an ad campaign for the brand last year that was plastered all over New York City in anticipation for fashion week. So, though his Supreme days are behind him, it doesn’t mean that he isn’t in good standing with the brand. It ended up being fairly easy to have a custom Supreme x Louis Vuitton printed walking boot created for Odell.

“Sarai. This is fire.” He closely examined it with bits of giggles that eventually turned into laughter once again. It amused me just as much when I picked it up. It’s fashionably loud and just as gaudy as he can be sometimes. If he’s going to have to wear a big ol’ medical boot, why not make it something representative of himself?

“You like it?”

“Hell yeah. This is perfect. You already know that I sometimes get frustrated as hell when I look down at that boot and you just fixed that problem.”

“I know. That’s why I got it.”

“I love it. I love it so much.”

“I know you have so much of the collection in your possession already because I’ve seen it on your Instagram, but you don’t have this. It’s a sample piece that never made it into the collection. I asked your mom for your size and by a miracle, one of the two jackets of its kind can fit you.” I held the box to make it easier for him to unzip the garment bag and he pulled out the vivid red bomber style of jacket. Everything about it screamed his name when I laid my eyes on it and I had to have it for him, no matter what the price tag was for it. Luckily, it wasn’t as overly hefty as I thought it would be. It’s the perfect piece to pair with the walking boot. Just because he’s injured, doesn’t mean that he can’t be as on point as he usually is when he’s out and about.

“And I thought I had connects. Whew! This is crazy. And it’s a one of one? At least for me it is. I’ma have to stunt with this one. It’s only right.”

“I know a few people.”

“Shit, a few more than me. Sarai, this is amazing. You got me cheesing like a kid on Christmas right now.”

“I know.”

“Oh, so you know me huh?” Why did he have to bite his lip after such a question? My backside shifted in the seat as my thighs pressed together much tighter than they already were.

“I know some things.”

“I want you to know everything.” Our hands met again as I reached to turn the heat off. I didn’t need it anymore.

In an attempt to mask the fluttering radiating throughout my body, I slid further down into the seat.

“I’d like that.”

My eyes panned over to the clock once again. Just as I did, midnight was finally upon us.

“Happy Birthday Odell.”

All week long, I’d been contemplating how I’d go about acknowledging him on his day. I didn’t want it to be the typical call or an impersonal text message. It certainly wasn’t going to be some social media post with a long heartfelt caption like I’m sure he’s going to receive from many throughout the day. Since I’d be bearing gifts, I knew it needed to be done here, but the exact timeframe was a silent debate. Finally, I settled on coming right around this time.

“Thank you, baby.”

Like he’d been doing since he was finally able to trap me into his world at the Bleacher Report party, he leaned over to invade my space. As my head turned, his plush lips brushed mine in a fiery passion and demand. He took possession of all seven of my senses and shifted us into a place where only he and I exist. The warmth of his minty breath rid our space of any bit of cool air trickling into the car.

“Sarai.” He huskily whispered my name; savoring every syllable as if he’d never heard anything more beautiful. Our breaths mingled as his lips pressed into mine.

I would have thought after all of the footage I’ve watched, all of pictures I’ve looked over, and all of the time we’ve spent speaking that I’d know quite a bit about his lips because they’re certainly my favorite part of him to look at thus far, but absolutely nothing could prepare me for this. Nothing.

His tongue sensually brushed over both of my lips in a plea for entry and I granted it. The warmth of his tongue grazed mine and his arm wrapped around my waist and drew me closer in a ravenousness that could not be ignored. He awoken parts of me that have been ignored for nearly four years. I yearned for a type of touch that I haven’t been able to properly satisfy through my own store-bought measures. I’ve laid awake at night wondering how his kiss would feel and as he sucking on my bottom lip in a tease that is sure to send me to an early grave, my wonder didn’t have a chance of measuring up to what I’m feeling right now.

“Take me home with you.” My heart thrashed against my chest as I pulled my quivering bottom lip in-between my teeth. Dear, God.

“Not for anything more than just me spending time with you. That’s it.”

“You have company in your house. You can’t leave them.”

“Yes, I can and I am. Drive.” It wasn’t a request but rather an order.

He settled back into the seat and boldly pulled the passenger side seatbelt over his body and properly secured it. For the sake of my own comfort, he removed the box from my lap and placed it back onto his.

I gazed into his tempting dark chocolate eyes for just a minute to see if he’d change his mind, but he sat patiently waiting for me to make my move and so I did.

I slowly pulled around his driveway and drove off into the night.

#odell beckham jr fanfic #odell beckham fanfic #fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic #fan fic

21 notes · View notes

littleprincesa-isabel · 5 years

Photo

Writing Task: BDRP Questionnaire

Trigger Warnings: None

Extra Note: This got very long haha

Your Name: Kiara :DD

Characters:

Sally Finkelstein, Minnie Muysken, Georgette Midler, Isabel Flores

Pick one of your characters and talk about their growth (we recommend choosing an older character, but it’s up to you!) What about their story has surprised you? What are you proud of? How have they changed from their original inception to now?

Georgette

First off, let me preface by saying that when Georgette’s muse originally formed in my head and I went for her, I absolutely did not envision her dying, coming back to life undead, and becoming a magick like at all. In fact, when I picked her up I loved the fact that she was a mundus and all my intentions were to keep her as such. Yeah... she’s not so much now but... surprise!

Georgette has done a total 360 change from what I originally had formed for her in my head, but it like also really helped out too that she did lol. (Thanks MK!!) I knew from the start that the MAIN goal I wanted for Georgette was to create a new form of stability for her. I wanted her to grow out of her old glamorous and ritzy life and into a life where fame and fortune really aren’t the most important aspects.

I wanted her to end up gaining a more humble perspective of life, almost just completely rewire her and I got to end up doing this twice for her lmao.

Just from Georgette needing to learn how to puzzle/rewire herself into this new life when she was forced to move to Swynlake. Learning how to live smaller and with a publically trashed and slandered reputation, learning to cook (she still sucks at it), live on her own, process through living with her rape trauma and just getting help with her alcoholism. I was able to meet that goal simply through all of that because Georgette grew and learned so much. She got into therapy, accepted help, gained real friends, learned how to process through her trauma, gained an appreciation for the simpler things in life and all through that journey of simply trying to tape up all that had shattered in her life.

Then she died... and came back to life.

So it was now going through this journey with her again where Georgette had to learn how to rewire herself and pick up the pieces to now make them fit into this new life of hers. It was going through all the emotional baggage of processing this new reset button for her, learning her new powers, coping through having died under a tree, surviving her rape trial, accepting that she no longer had such needs as hunger or sleep like normal humans, etc.

I’m proud of where she ended up going and how strong she has become. She hasn’t given up and keeps working through each hurdle. She has really changed from the shallow, spoiled brat she was in the beginning like I’m a proud mom lol.

Pick another character and talk a little about where you WANT them to go. What are your plans for them going into the new year?

Isabel

I want Isa to like completely spread open her wings for this new coming year!!! She is officially EIGHTEEN, and I want her to gain independence outside of her family. I want her to have independence outside of the royal appearance and duties of a princess, and outside of the daily knife over her head that is a crazy sorceress out to kill her.

Isa just wants to live life in where she doesn’t feel caged in.

I want her to be reckless lmao. Go to a party and get straight up trashed, travel more outside of Swynlake, move out, have sex, go to the club, go go-karting, sing karaoke with friends drunk or sober, set up an instagram account, survive an all-nighter, tipi a house, watch a Broadway play, get a tattoo because why the fuck not?!?

Feel life! I want Isa to feel life. Almost all of Isa’s life has been under the microscope of bodyguards or her family that I want her to learn how to be out on her own. I want her to make stupid mistakes, she’ll learn to go through them and get to grow because of them. Isa loves to learn, this will be great for her!!

And yes, she has already done a lot, but under the supervision of someone else, like Isa doesn’t know how it feels to be completely free and she wants a taste of it. I want a taste of it for her.

Pick a thread or a plot that you’re proud of and talk about why you loved it.

Minnie

I actually really liked my plot in where I got Minnie attacked at night by a patient that has already hurt her before. It makes me sound awful, but I liked it because it allowed Minnie to pull herself away from the hospital. Minnie wraps so much of her identity around the hospital. Her father used to work there as a surgeon, she used to spend so much time with her father there when she was little, she would volunteer at the hospital and it has been where she was working since she graduated from Pride U.

I honestly wanted to see if Minnie could see herself outside of the hospital. It was a journey of Minnie processing through the trauma, being able to simply feel safe again, and realizing that for her mental health she will have to step back some from a job and a place she loves dearly.

Minnie is still healing and will still ask for company whenever she needs to go out at night because she hasn’t been able to feel entirely safe as of yet. She is still working at the hospital but no longer coded/full time and now she has actually become the school nurse for Swynlake General. She loves the job and if it hadn’t been for the attack she honestly would’ve never been opened to even trying for that opportunity.

In terms of your own writing, identify 1-3 strengths and talk about why you think it’s one of your strengths.

Voice: Not to so much conversational voice as that’s actually something I want to improve in, but the mental voice. It is so easy for me to get into the thought processes involved with my characters. I always speak of their emotions and how they are thinking through their current situation. I love doing that because, for me, it explains the reasoning for all that my characters do what they do or end up doing. I just end up forgetting about everything else that should also be involved beyond thought and emotion lol.

Starters: This is a weird strength lol but I absolutely have no problems writing starters. It’s easy for me to create a situation where I need two people to end up engaging with one another. It’s fun for me to think of different ways, especially since Swynlake is a magical town so ideas really are limitless!! I just suck at creating titles that is definitely not my forte!

In terms of your own writing, identify 1-3 areas of improvement.

Conversation: I’m trying to be very cautious about this and I’m hoping that I have been improving but just not answering everything that is being spoken in a thread. I want to improve in knowing which things should be answered and what shouldn’t because it messes with the continuity of the thread. Hopefully, I have gotten better but it’s one of the main things I have been trying to pay hard attention to when writing my replies.

Body Placement/Situational Awareness: I’m also hoping to improve in being constantly aware of where my characters are and what they are doing. I lack describing simple actions with my characters like continuing to drink a tea they have in hand, remembering if they were holding something so as to know they need to put that something down if they want their hand, remembering if my girls hair is up or down because then she can’t tuck hair behind her ear if it’s up, etc. It gets hard for me sometimes because it’s a lot I have to keep track of.

Actions: I think I stink at writing actions where my characters are concerned. I forget that they are supposed to do more than think and talk. I suck at properly engaging them at times and I have to constantly remind myself like oh this is a date: hold hands, kiss, hug, lean in, stuff like that. They are in a hospital remember to engage with the machines, the diagnosis, doctors, and nurses etc.

Pick one of your plots, or even just a character, and come up with a list of 3-5 “mentor texts” where you can look for inspiration or research, then write a short (2-4 sentences) why you picked those texts.

Sally

Edgar Allen Poe’s Ligeia and Morella: I use these two short stories from Edgar Allen Poe a lot when it comes to inspirations for Sally. For Morella, I took the aspects of Sally looking so identical to her mother as she grew older and her father being obsessed with her because of that straight out of that text. Morella dying during the birth of her child, I stole that too for Sally’s back story involving her own mother. WIth Ligeia I love Edgar’s description of the main woman in the story, Ligeia and I often find myself going back to read it because I want Sally to resemble that description since that’s how I view her in my head.

Weather Websites: Lmao. I don’t know if this counts as a text per say, but legit I am constantly looking up websites that give me different types of weather and their descriptions. I use them because Sally empathic magic transcribes itself through a type of weather. Whenever she feels an emotion from someone it comes to her like the feeling of weather: snow, hale, warmth, fog, rain etc. depending on what emotion it is whether anger, sadness, confusion, happiness etc.

Edith Hamilton’s Mythology/Charmed: I know charmed is not a text lol but it needs to be mentioned because I used that show (particularly Phoebe) as an inspiration for Sally’s vision magic. Sally’s visions are constantly evolving and changing mainly due to the long time it has taken Sally to control it so it took a form of its own when it had the upper hand. That form I stole from Phoebe in how touch was needed for a vision to form and the aspect of Sally feeling all the emotions involved with it. Then, Mythology was a book I had to read as a requirement in my Freshmen year of high school. I use that text for references to the seers and oracles in Greek Mythology which is where I get my inspiration for how Sally’s visions are appearing now.

And now, a wishlist! Jot down a few themes or stories or genres etc that you want to maybe pursue in the upcoming year!

A forbidden romance, a bi-wakening!!!, any magic based plots because I love being able to dive into the magic of my magick babiess, family drama, paranormal thingss and medical plots because I can’t help myself it is who I amm haha.

Sally: Continue to evolve her magic because there is a specific point I want her aside from ya know that having complete control point, so if anyone needs anything seen you know who to hit upp. Open up the store she wants tor tailoring!!! I need to stop being a lazy fuck with that :/. Get her into a relationship. I have had Sally for likeee 3/4 years now and she has just been a lonely spirit. I don’t want her to be a lonely spirit all her liffeee.

Minnie: Hmmm not sure tbh aside from like medical plots!!! I love those gimmie gimmie, Minnie is an awesome nurse :DD

Georgette: Get her through a second trial where hopefully her rapist lands in jail. More socialite things because like she is a famously known socialite and I be forgetting that often. Magic stuff because she is now a magick herselff.

Isabel: She is going to be living up her eighteenth year of life. I am hoping it will be Princess Gone Wild this 2020 lmao. Get Isa to simply live it uppp.

#bdrptask #this really did get so longg #that like I didn't do the optional question bc of that xD

1 note · View note