Page 17 of Love's Most Wanted

These boxes were heavy as fuck, and my hands felt filthy.

Unique started toward the storage, and I followed him. He stopped abruptly, looking over his shoulder and down at me, making me slam into him and inhale his scent. Even in a wife beater and sweats, he smelled like he was in a Brooks Brothers suit.

“I got it, love. Chill.”

“They’re heavy as fuck, though, and it’s a lot.” I volleyed.

He simply chuckled at me. “Forgot that quickly that you used to AJ and them childish ass legs. He can’t pick up shit heavy.”

“Childish legs?” I giggled, folding my arms and leaning in the doorway as Unique piled one box on top of another and lifted both. Seeing his muscles flex a bit as he started to carry them out made my bud thump a little.

“You notice that nigga never wears shorts? Nigga’s legs is small as hell and got the nerve to have a thigh tatt like a baddie.” I fell out as Unique continued working. “His character had to rock shorts once, and we clowned that nigga so bad he fought to wear pants in the scene.”

I tossed my head back in much-needed laughter at Unique. He’d always been funny but even more so because most of his jokes held a bit of truth to it. AJ’s legs were shockingly skinny in comparison to his upper body, which was what he worked on religiously.

“They’re kind of pale too.” I chuckled a bit, watching Unique move back and forth, carrying two heavy boxes at a time like it was nothing.

“I ain’t gotta worry about shit like that.” He winked, and I giggled, even though it caused a bit of stirring in my belly. That quickly, I was reminded of the issue I had going on in there.

After having to pay for all the things that were supposed to be charged on the credit card AJ cut off, plus getting this new car, my funds were low and in need of a re-up.

I was hoping a new client would come through, as I had been advertising on my social media that I had an open calendar, but it was crickets. I think most who followed me were used to my celebrity prices, so the next post would focus on showing off that I wasn’t charging as much for normal people.

I didn’t want to think about the fact that my newfound reputation possibly contributed to my lack of clients, but deep down, I knew it did. Side chicks, mistresses, and home-wreckers were just as bad as pedophiles and rapists to women.

As Unique carried the last two boxes, an ice cream truck slowly crept by, making him put the boxes in my trunk and wave the man down.

“You still chase the ice cream truck? How old are you?” I raised a brow jokingly, folding my arms.

“Grown ass man who likes ice cream. You don’t eat ice cream?”

“I mean, no, not really anymore.”

“Then bring yo’ ass on so you can remember what the fuck you been missing.” He nodded for me to follow, and for some reason, I did. I had a taste for a Choco Taco, which I saw advertised on the side of the truck. “What you want?” Unique quizzed as he stood at the chubby Latino man’s window.

“Choco Taco, please.” I grinned when Unique’s lip curled in disgust.

“And you talking shit about me.” He shook his head, ordering mine and some Mexican coconut ice cream that looked like freeze pops for himself.

After getting our things, which he paid four dollars for, we went to sit inside of the storage unit to enjoy it. I couldn’t stop smiling every time I caught him watching me eat.

“Leave me alone. It’s good. I’m sure you’ve never had one.” I looked to him. He was seated next to me, and I didn’t think I’d ever been this close to him because I didn’t ever remember being this nervous around Unique.

“Nah, I haven’t.”

“Try.” I reached it out to him.

“Yo’ mouth clean?” His eyes lowered.

“Yes. And you have six nasty brothers who I am sure you have drank or eaten after. I’m much cleaner than them.”

Laughing, he asked, “What make you think that?”

“’Cause niggas are nasty by nature—even the ones who are clean. Tell me you and your brothers haven’t worked on a car and then ate with your hands without washing ’em?” I raised a brow, and judging by the big ass grin on his face, I knew I was right.

“Maybe like twice but we was hungry and tired as fuck.” He smirked. “That’s men though, love. No real nigga be running in the house to wash his hands after, unless he’s a bitch.”

“Yeah, okay.” I chuckled, then lifted the ice cream to him, and he took a bite. It was slow and sensual for some reason, though I could tell he was only biting it carefully so it wouldn’t crumble or spill.