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“Do you listen to classical music too?”
“Absolutely. I love it. Jazz too. I listen to other shit but that’s what I grew up hearing. What about you?”
“I listen to jazz but not classical music, mostly because I’ve never known where to begin. I love soul and neo soul. My favorite songs come from the seventies and eighties.”
“We can vibe out then.” I paused before suggesting, “There’s a sunset symphony coming up. Maybe I can take you.”
“You mean like a date?” she asked softly with a sweet smile.
“I mean… yeah.”
“Would that… is that okay?”
Chuckling, I walked over to her as she sat on the edge of the pool. “Who exactly do we have to answer to, Whiskee?”
As my arms wrapped around her waist, hers wrapped around my neck. “No one but ourselves, but this marriage… it’ll be fake.”
My head shook. “It ain’t fake. It’s arranged. What I feel for you is very real… even if I don’t want to feel it.”
She looked away and licked her lips. There was a ghost of a smile on them when she returned her eyes to mine. “And what do you feel?”
“I feel… like I could really like you and enjoy my time with you. I don’t want to ignore that.”
“I don’t want to ignore it either,” she cooed, blushing in a way that made my heart skip a beat. “So what do you suggest? We… enjoy each other while we’re bound?”
“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting… if that’s cool with you.”
Her head nodded as she bit down on her bottom lip through her smile. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
“Cool.”
Our lips were like magnets, drawn to each other without much effort. This kiss was just as good as the first, and like the first, it made me want to kiss every inch of her body as my dick hardened.
To cool things off between us, I pulled her into the pool, which led to a water fight that had her squealing and laughing the whole time. When we were done, we went back up to the apartment to shower and freshen up. I was surprised when she offered to fix lunch, but I agreed.
“Do you have any food allergies I should know of?” she asked, walking around the kitchen island in shorts and a hoodie. Her hair was pulled up into a curly bun. I couldn’t keep my eyes or my hands off her. “Beethoven.”
“Hmm?”
“I said do you have any food allergies?”
“Nah, bae.”
“What’s your favorite thing to eat?”
When she bent forward to look in the back of the refrigerator, I groaned. “Pussy.”
Standing upright, Whiskee looked over her shoulder at me with a smile. “What’s your favorite food to eat, sir?”
“Any kind of soul food. For lunch, it doesn’t really matter.”
“Hmm…” She turned toward the refrigerator again. “There’s some shrimp and chicken in here. I can do pasta or chicken over rice. The Mexican kind or with tzatziki and hot sauce.”
“If you can make some white sauce that tastes like what I get from Taziki’s, I’ll marry you right now.”
“Say less,” she agreed with a wide smile. “If it’s one thing I can do, it’s cook. I love to create and use my hands.”
“What else do you like to create?” I asked, accepting the bottle of water she put in front of me.
