Is This Really Love – Part 3

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

After dinner, Amad and Chevon just sat at the table, both had had a slice of cheesecake, because that’s really why you go to Juniors, Apple Crumb for Chevon and Brownie Explosion for Amad.

As they sat enjoying the deliciousness that Noelle had put before them, Amad was the first to speak, he looked at Chevon, who hadn’t said much since he held her hands; he’d still be holding them if it were not for eating.

He said, leaning into the table as close as he could, “I want you to know that I don’t usually do things like this. Most of the women I date, I’m almost always introduced to them. So, I believe having met you on the pages of magazines and now having spent a little time with you, I’d like to really know you.

Chevon’s only response was her red cheeks.

“You’re not going to say anything,” he asked.

“Sorry, there’s so much I want to say, but I really want to just enjoy this with you right now. What we’re doing here—what you’re saying. I want this moment to be suspended in my mind just in case I’m dreaming.”

Silence

Amad sat back in the seat willing the booth to swallow him because he was feeling the exact same way—never wanting this moment to end.

Chevon swallowed hard needing something to remind her that she wasn’t dreaming; she was off planet, floating on the beauty of Saturn’s rings, hoping this dream didn’t turn into a nightmare.

Amad took out his phone and responded to a few messages he’s been ignoring, but to his best friend, Franklin, he said he needed to meet with him tomorrow for lunch. Amad wanted to tell him about Chevon regardless if she wants to see him again or not.

Franklin responded with his usual “you buying,” message; not that Franklin couldn’t afford his own meals, but he knew, with Amad, they’d eat well. Amad chuckled knowing how Franklin will react to him meeting Chevon because they’d talk about her before, and Franklin would tease him about how he had a crush on a girl in a magazine.

One time, Franklin started singing Guy’s song My Fantasy, “she’s just a fantasy, image in a magazine; I’ve seen her face before, her body walks out my door,” until this day, Amad still blushes thinking about that song in regards to the woman who has literally leapt off the pages into his life—now, Amad could only imagine what song Franklin would be singing now.

Amad’s mind found its way back to Chevon, he needed to know what she was thinking about. He blurts out, “I’d like to take you home; I mean call my driver to take you home—cool?”

“Oh, ah, that’s…that’s cool,” she said and smiled.

“Oh, hey, welcome back!”

Amused Chevon said, “I’m sorry, I know I haven’t said much in a while; I’m just trying to process all of this, I heard you though—I heard every word.”

Amad simply nods and says, “my driver, Phillip, will be here in a few minutes. I’ll take care of the check, I’ll be right back,” he says and goes to the front, pays the bill, and hands Noelle her tip himself.

Amad loves to tip people who are in service, he learned that from his aunt who once told him, to give a tip to someone who serves you isn’t about them, it’s about you; a generous spirit is always rewarded—Amad was about twelve when she blessed him with that little piece of wisdom.

“Don’t spend that all in one place,” he says to Noelle who nods with a smile, and put the money in her apron; she never looked at the tip, she didn’t have to. In her experience, customers who hand her tips are not only generous but they’re purposeful by handing her, her tip, in her hand, it meant that it was no less than $20, little did she know, it was five times that.

While Amad was away, Chevon sent her sister a quick message about who she met and where she was; Cherelle’s only response was “get some.” How she wished she could get some, but she just met Amad, and she didn’t know who he truly was. Although it’s been a while since Chevon has been with a man, and no matter how much she wanted to “get some” from this man, there’s no way that would be happening—at least not tonight anyway.

She didn’t respond to Cherelle, there was no need—her sister was on-call at Upstate University Hospital, and her little “get some” would be all the message Chevon would get until Cherelle had a real chance to talk to her about Amad.

Chevon stood as Amad watched her; her body was curvy, and he smiled loving what he saw and knew about her in this short space of time. When Chevon turned putting on her mask, Amad wished she didn’t have to wear her coverings, hiding her beauty, but he needed her to be safe—he needed everyone to be safe.

“You forgot your gloves,” she said handing them to Amad.

“Oh, thank you, I would have been upset if I lost these,” he says holding the gloves like a rare gem. “They were my grandfather’s and when my hands got big enough to fit them, he gave them to me.”

“Oh, that’s sweet, and let me guess you were five?” She said jokingly because Amad is a big guy, tall, more than big.

“No, I was three,” Amad said and they both belted out a laugh that interrupted the entire restaurant.  Amad loved the ease he found with Chevon, it was a rare and exciting feeling to be this comfortable with someone one just met. “So, Phillip is here,” he added once they calmed down from laughing; “are you all set?” Chevon nodded and headed for the door. Amad, again, held the door for her and moved quickly to open the car door for her as well.

“Thank you,” Chevon said and found her seat in the all-black Audi Q8. Chevon’s mind was flooded with all things Amad; she wanted to know more about him, his family, and then she thought against that reminding herself that she was getting ahead of herself and what was going on between the two of them.

“Phillip, this is Chevon…Chevon this is Phillip,” Amad said introducing the two.

“Ma’am, nice to meet you.”

“And you,” Chevon said and took off her mask after she saw Amad taking off his.

“So, where are we going?”

“Oh, right, ah, 566 Vermont Street,” Chevon said and Phillip turn onto Flatbush Ave, glancing at Amad who’s eyes never left Chevon’s beautiful face.

Phillip knew what was happening, he saw this look in Amad’s eyes before, but he thought this time things would be different. Phillip could only think this because this is the first time Amad has ever called him to take a woman home, to her home; taking women home was not something Amad did. He is a bring them to his place, love ‘em, and call a cab for them kind of guy—never this—calling him to take a woman to her home.

Phillip had a million questions, but inwardly, he smiled and prayed that this time things will work out differently.

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