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Wednesday, August 8, 2012

Day 7: Disappearing Acts (pt. 2)

Deep down, I wanted to be everything he wanted but my heart would not allow it, which was surprising because that bitch was a traitor and couldn't be trusted.  Hell, she's responsible for me being in this situation now.  All I wanted to do that day was catch a cab home and bury myself deep down in my queen sized bed once I got there.  Instead, I ended up sharing a ride with a honey bronzed cutie whose gentle face attempted to compromise my judgment. He asked me if I minded splitting the fare and I responded that it was a little late for common courtesy.

**** if you haven't read part 1, read it here****

He grinned as he closed the door. Initial irritation began to fade as I watched his lips instruct the driver where to. His stop was on the way. I wondered where he was coming from with not so much as book bag attached to his person. Relaxed fitting denims hanging comfortably on his frame, plain black tee with a matching fitted cap that rested lazily on his head, exposing a razor sharp lining. All signs that he could have just left the barber.

He extended his hand as we merged with traffic. I'm Kyle, he offered. I expected something else. Kyle didn't fit him. Without shaking his hand, I gave him a nod and turned my focus to my now buzzing phone. Nice to meet you, sarcasm oozing as his eyes lingered a while longer.

Aside from the beads colliding with one another from the cabbie's rearview and the soft hum of the A/C whistling from the vents, we rode in silence. I was in the middle of an argument as to why I wouldn't be heading down to Virginia to visit my god-sister next weekend, he was taking in the city as if this was his first time here. Nope. This scene wasn't awkward at all. I wanted to ask him where he was visiting from but I didn't get the chance. The taxi slowed to a stop right in the middle of a surprisingly quiet neighborhood. Three teenage girls  passed the car right as we pulled up to the curb, the one in the middle going on about how she spent her weekend. It was safe to say hers was a a lot more eventful than mine.

Without a word, he slipped a $20 from his wallet over the right shoulder of the driver. His eyes met mine and for a second, we just sat there being all awkward. To this day, I don't know why I didn't say anything. Maybe because we'd soon find out that this was our thing--enjoying the seconds is what we like to call it. He started to say something but stopped himself. Instead, he shook his head and smiled as he moved to open the door. My eyes held on to him through the windshield, watching intently as he adjusted his fitted. He jogged across the street to avoid the light rain now drizzling from the forming clouds. Only after he made it up the building's steps and inside did I let my eyes become aware of the rest of the world outside my window.

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