Page 19 of Not My Type (Not My Type #1)

Zara

The walk towards my house is usually me mentally preparing myself for that rigid lock on the grill — it gives me hell on a daily basis.

“Pretty girl,” my neighbor’s teenage son flirts. I won’t give him the time of day. Instead, I put my purse down and begin to grapple with the grill. I start thinking about how I’d die if I should ever be chased home.

Dog would a nyam’ your supper.

It finally opens and I enter the house, and realize that the front door is closed meaning, my grandma isn’t here.

I fish through the purse — lipgloss, old receipts, Advil and a spare key.

Everything but money. Mmcht. Not having anything to do with the purse, I toss it onto the sofa, just to free my hands.

My mind then shifts to Mama and her whereabouts.

Which part the lady gone?

I pull out my phone and dial her number. It rings out, no answer. Nosa. A wah dis? I dial again and it goes to voicemail. I sit down, a little nervous. Then she answers on the third ring.

“Sister Olive, help me press deh phone yah. Mi granddaughter a call me,” is the first thing I hear her say.

Den Mama nuh realize say she answer already? The thought makes me laugh. She asked for iPhone and all now she nuh understand it.

“Mama, I’m hearing you,” I smile.

“How mi nah see yuh Zara?” she questions.

“That’s because it’s voice call,” I retort and hear her calling out to someone.

“Switch this to video call fi me deh,” she tells the person then my screen lights up with her face.

“Mi just get home,” I feel like saying.

“A the hair mi wah see, mek mi see it,” I turn the camera to my hair and she starts getting excited.

“Clova do the cornrows so neat,” she giggles. “Wow you is a pretty black girl enuh.” I laugh.

“Thank you, my beautiful grandmother.”

Mama is so sweet.

“Lawd Michelle a go love it, you stay deh,” she smiles and I walk into the kitchen. I lean the phone on the counter.

“Where are you though Mama?” I question.

“A social me deh down a sister Andrea,” she tells me.

Her church is walking distance from our house. I check the pots on the stove and realize that she already made soup. Oh, forgot seh a Saturday. It’s a tradition for her to make soup on Saturdays. I’m not a fan of soup though. Girl, go order pizza.

“Mi know you nuh love soup, but you fi drink some and burn out the gas from out of you system,” she tells me. It’s something she says to me every Saturday.

“Yea,” I simply say. “What time are you coming home?” I change the topic.

“Nuh worry missis, my church brother them will carry me home safely,” she tells me.

“Okay good, I’ll call.” I tell her.

“Wah you a go eat though cas mi know you probably nuh wah the soup,” She knows me too well.

“I’m going to order pizza,” I answer.

“Okay... mi feel fi piece a chicken enuh, and mi have some chicken season up in the fridge.”

“Okay Mama, I’ll fry it for you and buy a cheese pizza for myself.”

“Alright mi darling. Grandma loves you.”

“I love you too,” I smile sweetly. “Hurry up and come home mon.”

She laughs. “Fry the piece o’ fowl.”

“Okay,” I giggle and end the call.

I order my pizza and head to the bathroom to shower.

I step under the water, and for the entire time, I’m thinking of that handsome gangster.

I cut the shower off, dry my body and enter my room in my robe.

As soon as I’m near my bed, I step out of the robe.

I walk nakedly around my room, searching for clothes to wear.

Underneath need breeze!

I slip on a white tank top and pink biker shorts, before I head towards the kitchen to start the chicken. I put on Queen Naija’s Medicine, turn the volume up and dance as I begin to cook.

A knock on the grill startles me. Oh, the delivery guy. I wash and dry my hands before I walk out of the kitchen, open the door and gasp when I see Nick standing at my grill. He smirks at me.

I—

He’s wearing a multi-coloured polo hoodie with denim jeans and royal blue, suede Wallabee Clarks. Hmm... the Clarks dem neat.

Yuh mean him neat! I notice that I’m staring too much and laugh awkwardly. He’s just looking at me with a weird expression, eyes glinting with something unreadable. Whew.

“Why are you here?” my cheeks warm.

“Nah get you phone,” he retorts. I act surprised, knowing damn well, I saw his calls and turn on do not disturb. I just didn’t know what to say.

“Ohh...” I trail off.

“You cooking?” he asks and I gasp, remembering the chicken.

If yuh burn dem up, him ago think yuh cya cook sis.

I quickly open the grill and run into the kitchen to turn the chicken over. They’re perfectly golden and crispy.

Thank God they aren’t burnt! Dat would a look so bad. I step back and feel him behind me. He puts his arms around me. I smile to myself because the feeling of being in his arms is euphoric.

“Um...” I feel tongue tied.

He puts his face in the nape of my neck. My body trembles. I turn, and he pulls me to him as he steps away from the stove. Whew, why dat so sexy?

“ Mi nuh want the oil burn you,” His voice. Jezam.

He washes his hands and I sit around the dining table. He takes off his hoodie and puts it on the sofa, before he takes the fork from me. He’s only wearing his white marina with his pants. He turns the chicken for me and takes them out of the pan when he’s satisfied that they’re done.

I like how helpful he is. “What were you gonna say?” he asks the moment he has covered the chicken.

My eyebrows shoot up. “What are you talking abo—” I stop myself when I remember. Girl get it together... Your decision.

“Mi a say... the question that you asked,” I meet his stare. It throws me off. His eyes dripping with emotions.

That’s... new.

“Sometimes you nuh have no...” I stop myself. I don’t know how he is — if he’s someone I can be honest with. I don’t know how he will take it and...

You’re afraid of him. Just be honest girl! Yes. I hate to admit it, but this man wasn’t making it easy for me to say otherwise.

“Sometimes I don’t have what?” he inquires, and I shake my head. The tone nuh right.

“Never mind,” I tell him.

He just stares at me, and there it goes again. The darkness and the frigid, blank look in his eyes.I want to know if it’s something he controls or that’s just him. I gulp and look away. Why did I start this up?

“Zara” he calls and my eyes find him again.

“Talk to me nuh,” he sighs sitting in front of me. My chest tightens.

Talk to him nuh Zara.

“Sometimes you don’t have no emotion in your eyes and sometimes you do, and it scares me,” I look down. He’s awfully quiet, making this even worse.

“Mi nuh know wah you a talk bout,” he says after a while.

“Okay,” I breathe. “There is this thing about you that scares me. It reminds me of that night.”

His face softens. “Sorry about that,” his husky voice slightly gentle.

“You have a dark side where your eyes lack emotion, and I saw it the night you had the gun on Mr. Perry. Then you have another time when you seem like a normal person who has feelings,” I explain and he cups his palm over his face.

“Me born in a the ghetto yuh zeet? So certain things me affi get used to before mi did even ready,” he pauses. He takes a deep breath and continues.

“Mi watch mi own God father kill mi father enuh, and it scar mi. I have darkness in me. But mi never know seh mi could feel certain way again and you bring out th...” he stops himself.

“What do I bring out?” my eyes narrow.

“It hard fi say cause mi nuh really know how you a go take it,” he tells me.

It’s funny how we’re both holding back because of the same thing.

I sigh. “Just say it.”

“Yuh mek mi feel like there is more to me... like a little light yuh know. That’s why yuh fascinate me so much cas you mek mi feel alive,” his voice, a sexy rumble.

“Um... wow I um,” I say, feeling tongue tied. Again. I hold his hand and he meets my stare.

“You do something to me too, and that’s why I find you intriguing because I don’t normally look at men like you, if you get what I mean,” I saying hoping to not offend him.

“Mi hope yuh know seh mi nah judge yuh enuh,” I add and he chuckles.

You are my subconscious teases.

I’m quiet for a while, thinking of the best way to construct what I’m about to say. “So, if mi tell you say mi ago deh with you, how you would a feel?” I’m blushing hard.

His eyes darken as he smiles— it’s so beautiful, displaying his braces and his dimples. “Words can’t explain how mi feel... just sup’m bout yuh,” he rocks his legs and licks his lip. “Yah go love it here.”

So conceited... I like it. His eyes aren’t leaving mine— they’re flickering with carnalities. I stand to my feet and straddle his lap.

“I guess I will... ” I wrap my hands around his shoulder and move to his ear. “Like it here.” He slaps my ass and grips me so tight.

“Man ago deal with yuh enuh but mi nuh love do the talking thing,” his voice is so deep, making his words alluring. I can’t stop smiling. I wonder if I’m signing up for hell. Cause why mi feel so ecstatic? Only things weh nuh good for us feel so good enuh.

Well...

He grabs my neck with a cold stare. I throw my head back. I feel so enraptured, though he’s aggressive.

“Look in a mi eye nuh,” he demands, his voice husky.

I do as he says and my heart speeds up. He’s so handsome. I look down again. I had to. It’s that feeling you get when you’re around your crush. He cups my chin and turn my face to him.

“How yuh suh shy?” I roll my eyes seductively before I meet his half-lidded eyes. He looks high. I hold his shoulder and he leans in and smashes his lips into mine. Ouuu. Den somebody couldn’t tell me a so it feel nice when yuh deh with a bad man?

He tightens his grip around my throat and sucks on my lips.

I hold my breast, deepening our kiss. A moan slips out of my mouth.

My arousal is causing a pooling in my underwear.

Omg! Why do I like it so much when him ruff me up?

He’s growing hard underneath me. Whew. As our kiss gets even steamier, we lace our fingers together.

“Nick?” I say against his lips.

“Mhm?”

“I’m sorry about your dad,” I gasp and he bites my lips.

“Dat good mon,” he simply says when we pull away, breathing heavily.

“And I’m sorry about what it caused. All that darkness and rage,” I continue and he kisses my neck. “But... ”

I can’t even focus with him sucking on my neck like this. A moan escapes my lips. When we finally have sex, it’s going to be mind blowing. I can already feel it— and I can’t wait.

Just don’t breed .

He’s caressing my breast and I can’t help admiring him— engrossed with the size and the beauty of my cleavage.

“So you obsessed with breast?” my words come out in a pant and he bites his lip.

“Feel like a sup’m else mi ago obsessed with still,” his stare tells me exactly what he’s talking about.

My clit is throbbing— she knows too. I turn my face to the side, a coquettish smile escapes. The nigga gives me a thrill, one I never knew I needed. It takes me a few seconds to collect myself.

“Wah mi a try say still, is that despite your past, mi ago be that little positive arou— ” He bites my nipple.

“Just stop talk nuh muma. Show me yuh room,” he’s so rude. I playfully roll my eyes at him. I try to move and he grips my waist.

“Make me get up nuh,” I meet his stare. He smirks and slaps my ass then he allows me to stand.

When I do, I stop at my door, looking up at him. “What we doing in there? It’s too early for sex,” I make sure tell him.

“Mhm. Just want to lie down with you,” he looks down again — at my V print.

“Y’know and chill?”

“Okay sir,” I say, and push the door open.