Page 17

Navy BLEU

The wet dreams I continued to have about Landon Caselli should have been a crime.

I found myself moaning in my sleep, as if I could feel his hands gripping my ass and kissing my lips.

Smelling his deep sandalwood and leather combination as I laid in the crook of his neck comforted me more than I thought it would.

His beard tickling my nose while he rubbed my back and allowed me to cry.

It not only should have been illegal; it should have never happened because this man had been on my mind since I last saw him the week before. We never exchanged numbers, and when I searched him up on social media, he didn’t have any. What man his age didn’t have a social media where he could flex?

Wouldn’t he want to flex his cars and his money like some guys I grew up with would?

Antwan loved to flex the shit that he got from companies that wanted to endorse him.

Landon was completely different because he didn’t need to make much noise.

He allowed his presence to make the noise for him.

At Kennedy’s dinner, as we waited for them to wrap up their conversation, you could see the different chicks wanting a second with him.

Meanwhile, he wasn’t bothered by them in the least.

Landon Caselli was art.

When he asked to sit next to me at Kennedy’s dinner, I had to do a double take. I knew like hell a book bae from my kindle didn’t emerge in real life. His scent greeted me before he did. However, I was so wrapped up into my book.

He stood there like he had been hand carved by God himself.

His muscles and silence both had a presence of their own, even with him dressed casually.

His skin was beautiful. That rich caramel that gets dripped around your ice coffee before the coffee gets poured in.

His tattoos told a story that I was more interested in than my kindle at that moment.

His strong jawline, thick beard, and his eyes stayed low as he took everything in.

He didn’t smile, but then again, I didn’t need him to smile to appreciate the art that stood beside me asking to sit next to me.

When I sat in his lap, looking in his face, I wanted to trace his forehead wrinkles, and his perfectly pink lips.

Underneath and off to the side, he had small moles and freckles that added to his beauty.

As I exited the train station, I sipped my matcha and walked down the block to the studio.

I was proud of myself because I had been consistent since last week, going three times a week.

Although I couldn’t film in her funky studio, I still went because the workout was needed.

It helped put me in a better mindset and reminded me that everything would be fine.

One step in front of the other. That was what I had to keep reminding myself, because I would lose my mind.

Sitting my phone up on a bench I had come past, I stepped back to do an outfit check.

“The DOB of the day is a matcha with a squeeze of lemon… don’t knock it until you try it.

London Athletics set and my book of the day is by Sevyn McCray.

I’ve been switching between a few authors, eating all their catalogs up.

I have a few errands to run today, so have a great day.

Actually, have the day you deserve because some of you be straight funky with your attitude…

later loves.” I kissed my hand and quickly grabbed my phone.

I pulled the leggings up and continued down the block toward the studio.

London was making athletic sets, and I told her she needed a new manufacturer.

You couldn’t sell sets like the one she was, and not ask her consumer to have a BBL.

I had more than enough ass, and this was still sliding down on me.

Greene was slimmer when it came to curves, and she looked like a limp green bean in it. Sipping my matcha, I rounded the corner to the studio and stopped when I saw people in and out. I pulled my phone out and looked to see if I had the right date for class.

“Hey Johnni, is there no class today?”

She turned around and smiled. “Hey superstar… we closed the studio down so you can film today.”

“Film what?”

She paused. “You know, your outfits and content for your pages.”

I was so confused as I nervously sipped my matcha so I could figure out what the hell she was chatting about. “I can’t afford to close your studio to film… why would you do this?”

Johnni looked past me with this little schoolgirl grin on her face. “How are you, Landon? It was great talking to you over the phone.”

“Don,” he corrected her. “Appreciated you for getting this pulled together for my baby.” He pulled me closer to him, and I looked at him.

“Hey Johnni, can you give us five minutes?”

“Sure, you can go in the back. I’ll direct them where to put the perfect lighting.” She rushed off to find the lighting men.

There were fucking men with lighting and cameras.

I squeezed his big ass hands in mine as I pulled him toward the back.

I closed the door behind us and slowly turned to look at him.

He wore a long Nike shirt that clung to his sculpted body, a pair of shorts and running sneakers.

He still had a durag on his head. Which was making having this conversation ten times harder.

“What are you doing, Don?”

“Landon,” he corrected me.

I tapped my foot with my hand on my hip. “Answer the question.”

“How is it that I don’t have your number? Don’t want me to, have it?” He switched the subject.

“You never asked.”

“I gotta ask for your number now?” He came closer to me, taking my drink out my hand and taking a sip. Like any Black person, he tilted the cup to take a better look at it. “I’ve had matcha, but this got something different.”

I smiled widely. “Lemon squeezed in it.”

He killed the rest of my damn matcha and then backed me up against the door. “Good shit. You told me that you wanted to film in peace when it came to Pilates…right?”

“That was me just talking shit, though.”

“Yeah, well, I told you I’m intentional with the shit I do.” He reached into his pocket and pulled his phone out. “I have my ways to get your number but wanted it to come from you.”

“There was no way you would have gotten my number,” I challenged, because he seemed like he was so sure.

He pulled his phone back, and with one arm still holding the matcha, he leaned over me while his other hand did something on his phone. After a few minutes, a text message appeared on my phone.

“What the…”

He laughed. “I’m gonna delete it, and I want you to put it in my phone.”

“How did you do that, though?”

“I have my ways, Bleu.”

I put my number into his phone and then looked up at him. “You are something else.”

“Can’t get my mind off you, Bleu.” He bent down and kissed me on the neck, and I released a soft moan.

In the dozens of wet dreams I’ve had since the studio, it always started with a slow neck kiss before it went somewhere else.

His beard nuzzled against my face and sent this bolt of electricity down my entire back. A feeling that I wouldn’t mind having for the rest of my life. “I guess I don’t know how to respond… what does that mean for you?”

He slowly kissed my neck as he spoke. “There’s not many who cross my mind, baby. You have multiple times.”

I smiled as he pulled his head up and then pulled me from the door. “I thought about you, too.”

His cocky ass smirked. “I know, baby.”

Shoving him, I replied, “Ugh, why are you so cocky… I was lying, anyway,” I pulled the door opened, and I felt his hand on my ass.

“Nah, you been squeezing those thighs together while you think about me, Bleu.” He hadn’t told one single lie, and I guess that was the reason for his cockiness. Landon Caselli knew who he was.

Johnni got ready to be filmed, fixing her hair and makeup like they were here for her.

Even with a cameraman and lighting, I still set my little tripod up, and we started the class.

Landon joined us, and he never struggled.

While my legs were shaking and shit, he had the perfect form.

Despite me over here struggling, Johnni kept using any excuse to go and check on him when he never needed the help.

It was my ass that needed the help, not him. Here she was, so busy tossing her hair around and laughing like a crazed fool when he hadn’t said anything funny. At the end of class, I thanked Johnni, then gathered my stuff to leave.

“Shorty need to get some dick… like a damn rabid dolphin,” Landon said as we walked down the block.

“Can dolphins even get rabies?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know… my home girl Aimee stay putting me onto random ass facts. Her aunt is obsessed with them or some shit.”

I stopped mid-stroll and looked at him. “Where are you going?”

“With you.”

“What?” I laughed.

“Can’t come chill with you for the day?”

I folded my arms. “I’m cleaning my apartment and doing laundry today. Are you sure you wanna be bored with me?”

“Yeah, I’m good with dishes.” He took my hand and walked us in the opposite direction where a different car was waiting.

The Bentley sat parked on the block like it was the main character, and it was. He held the door opened for me, and I got in. When he got in, he pulled away from the curb and headed down the different blocks.

“Everything good with you?”

He looked over at me. “Kennedy came by my crib last week… shit still has me bothered.” The thing that I enjoyed about Landon was how open he was with his feelings. I don’t think many people asked him if everything was good with him, so he never had the chance to answer the question.

“How did that go?”

“We fucked.”

I choked back my words and the piece of jealousy. “Oh.”

“I’m fucking with you.”

Punching him in the arm, I replied, “You asshole.”

“Gotta know how you feeling about me, Bleu. This can’t be one sided, feel me?”

I smiled. “I hear you.”