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"I WANT A SUNDAY KIND OF LOVE," Ayoluwa's singing voice emanated from Shareef's iPhone and connected to his AirPods.
On the screen, the latest singing video she had posted on her Instagram was running on a loop and filling the entirety of his cell phone screen. In the video, Ayoluwa was sitting in the front room of her home, her guitar in her lap, her plants behind her, the sun illuminating her completely and her eyes closed as she sang.
"A love to last past Saturday night and I'd like to know it's more than love at first sight and I want a Sunday kind of love," Ayoluwa strummed and simultaneously held the note on the word 'love', "I want a love that's on the square, can't seem to find somebody, someone to care and I'm on a lonely road that leads to nowhere, I need a Sunday kind of love."
In the video, the sound of a front door opening and closing flowed out and from the screen, Shareef could spot Joshua's clothed back as he bent down a little to deliver a kiss to Ayoluwa's lips.
She giggled just before the video cut off and Shareef pursed his lips a little, letting his thumb hover over the 'like' button.
It's just a video.
Be her friend and like the video.
But he would be lying if he didn't admit that seeing Ayoluwa and Joshua kiss didn't make his heart ache just the tiniest bit.
"Next!" A feminine voice jarred Shareef enough to jump slightly, tap the power button so that his cell phone turned dark, and then check his surroundings.
Bright white lights, rows of various sneakers on each wall, and a brick layout behind the shelves greeted him back. Shareef glanced to the register where a girl with her shoulder-length dark brown twists in a low bun, matching eyes full of searing intensity, and overly glossy lips was ringing people up behind a large glass register stand.
People in line shuffled forward at her request and Shareef turned his attention back to the pair of Jordan 4s in the top box resting beside him on the chair and slid his phone back into the pocket of his coat.
"Don't get 'em... Do get 'em..." Shareef muttered to himself before letting his irises trail over to the shelf that held sneakers that were clearly for infants then back to the 4s, "Fuck it, imma get 'em. Why not?"
He flipped the box lid closed before picking up the stack of shoe boxes and rising as well to join the now dwindling line that had formed in front of the register stand.
