RAGE (BWWM)

7

"Thank you!" I waved to the driver as he pulled off. I then turned around to face the building, noticing that it was a restaurant. My stomach instantly growled, but I frowned at my outfit. I was by no means dressed to dine at a restaurant.

"Welcome," the hostess greeted me. I nodded, muttering a simple, good morning in return.

"How may I help you?"

"Umm, I'm not really sure," I stated. I wasn't sure what to do since my directions stopped here.

"Do you have a reservation? We actually just opened ten minutes ago, so there's no wait at all," she told me.

"Do you have an Amira Moore?" I asked, and her face instantly lit up as soon as I said my name. It was as if she was expecting my arrival.

"My apologies. You may follow me."

As she walked me to the back, I noticed that the place wasn't formal at all, which made me feel a little bit better about my appearance. Instead, the restaurant reminded me of a little Ma and Pa establishment, and it smelled amazing in here.

The hostess rounded a corner and stopped, directing me to do the same. I offered a small thanks in return before pausing to survey the small secluded space. There were a few booths lining the perimeter of the room, and all of them were empty except for one.

I couldn't help the fit of nerves that pooled in my stomach, nor the small smile that adorned my face when I saw him. Throughout the week, I made sure to follow all written orders given to me, and now that I was finally at the end of the rainbow, there he was—my reward.

Or was breakfast my reward?

I chuckled to myself, picking up my feet and strolling over to where he sat. He looked up from his phone just as I arrived, and he made room for me, signaling that I was to sit next to him and not across from him. I nodded and slid right on in.

"Good morning," he said, putting his phone away. I damn near melted at the sound of his voice.

"Good morning," I regarded him back.

"Are you hungry?" He asked, and his question made my stomach release an obnoxious sound.

A waitress soon brought us some menus. She took my drink order, which was just a glass of apple juice. Rowan didn't order anything, all he did was watch me fret over the menu until I reluctantly chose something.

I ordered the fish and grits, and after just one bite, I knew this place was black-owned. Or at the very least, they had black cooks up in that kitchen because ain't no way. I couldn't help but do a little shimmy every now and then as I ate. I probably looked ridiculous, but he said nothing as I enjoyed my food the entire time. To be honest, I almost forgot that he was even there.

.....

I looked around, spotting a few vehicles draped in covers. I counted three in total, not including the one that I just got out of. There was also a smaller vehicle at the far end of the garage, but I couldn't quite tell if it was a motorcycle or something else. Curious, I did one last little sweep with my eyes before reaching down to grab my stuff and closing the door behind me. And of course, I was careful not to slam his door.

"I could be a serial killer, you know," I told him as he led me out of his garage and into his home.

"I highly doubt that," he spoke up.

"But, you trust me in your home?" I was only asking because he seemed like the type that hated people invading his space. I wouldn't dare make him feel uncomfortable in his own home, but it just surprised me that he would even bring me here in the first place.