Page 55 of Love's Most Wanted

“KK.” His voice poured through the phone like hot caramel. Lord. And that nickname? Why did I like it when it was simply my initials?

“I got the food, the gift—which I haven’t opened—and the roses.” I smiled but wiped my face as I drove to erase it.

“Good. Was the food hot? It’d better been hot.”

“It was, Unique. Thank you. How did you know where to send that stuff?” I frowned, hopping onto the freeway. The sun was setting, and the sky looked like a mix of purple and sherbet.

“She tagged you on social media in a post about all the people who were coming through for her today or some shit like that. I slid in her DMs, told her what I was trying to do, and she gave her address.”

“She just gave a random nigga her address?” I chuckled, thinking how crazy people were as if this were the 1950s and a small town where crime was unlikely.

“Uh,” he laughed, “she did. But that random nigga is on TV in millions of households every year. If I was on some other shit, it’s unlikely I’d get away with it.”

“Oh, right. You are famous.” I giggled, feeling foolish.

“Yeah, and once I told her I could promise her tickets to the next wrap party, she was with it. With her nosy ass.”

Laughing, I asked, “How is she nosy when you’re asking for her home address?”

“’Cause she ain’t need to know who you was to me or none of that shit. Once I agreed to the trade, she should’ve just given me that shit.”

“What did you tell her?” I inquired, knowing I shouldn’t have.

“I told her you were my friend but one I found to be very fucking beautiful and very fucking hardworking, so I wanted to do something to celebrate you.”

My heart continued to thump out of my chest from the time I asked that question until right in this moment.

“Thanks,” was all I could think to say. “Unique, I thought we discussed this stuff. This is not what acquaintances do. And nothing you do for me or send me will change my mind about you and your lifestyle.”

“I heard you when you said it, and I ain’t trying to force you into shit, love. But I like you, and I can’t deal with you cutting a nigga off completely. The less I talk to you, the more I think about you. So I’m thinking we talk more, and I will think about you less, and it’s more likely I will leave the fuck you alone in the long run. Deal?”

“No deal.” I chuckled, even though I didn’t want to.

I hated that I thought about him often too. I thought it was because I was living in the building he owned, but that wasn’t true. Even when I was out, my mind would drift to Unique occasionally. I would try and tell myself it was because of all the drama with Aurora and Daisy, but deep down, I knew that wasn’t true either. I hated this shit.

“I don’t know, man. If I keep on, I’m gon’ catch feelings and shit.”

“Well unless you catch strong enough feelings to drop the poly talk, end it with the Bobbsey twins, and only be looking for me, then I really don’t give a fuck, Unique.”

“Ooh.” He grunted as if I’d hurt him. “I can’t get one date? Just to show you?”

“Show me what? I don’t need a date to know that I am not interested. And the more you try, the less of a chance you’d have, even if you were single and had some sense.”

He chuckled, and it made me do the same.

“Plan was to leave you alone, but it’s been hard on a nigga. Real shit.” He exhaled loudly. “I listened to you about ya mom and ya background, and I don’t want you to think I brushed that shit off. I’m gon’ do my best to leave you be, love, but don’t be surprised if I pop up on yo’ ass, claiming to be a changed man and shit. Aight?”

“Unique, bye.” I grinned, knowing that would never happen. He loved to flirt and loved women too much.

“Mhm,” he said just before I hit the end button, pulling into the parking garage of his building.

* * *

Pulling up to my aunt Bell’s house, I climbed out, ready to eat some of the pie she made. She’d claimed that she made one for me and the other was for her and any guests she had over, which really meant her trifling boo Elijah.

Using my key, I entered to see a woman around my aunt’s age sitting on the couch.

“Is this Kabrina?” she asked, rising to her feet. She was a pretty woman with dark skin, hazel eyes, and long dark hair. She reminded me of Kenya Moore.