Not My Type 3: Alternate World

49. Safe

Wednesday, Feb 14💘
9:45 am

(Couldn't proofread)

📍CENTRAL PLAZA, HALF WAY TREE
Z  A  R  A
ᴢᴀʀᴀ

Valiant's Lumbah blast loudly. I laugh watching him being goofy, bobbing his head to the beat that's thumping relentlessly.

"Strong back inna mi back...." he starts it over, now dancing.

"Prettiest Valentine..."he smiles. "Why yuh want makeup?"

I smile too.

He's taking me to the best Makeup Artist. Candy. My appointment is at 10 o' clock. It's ten minutes to.

This is going to be my first time at a makeup artist. I never needed to. I started practicing so early, now I'm good at it.

At this point yuh need fi open yuh own Makeup Studio.

Nah.

"A just ten minutes lef," I say quietly.

"Who cause that?" he turns to look at me. He's wearing a hat today, he kotch it. Black tees, it's practically the only thing he wears.

I drop my eyes to his bottom half, black joggers, his feet barefooted. He prefers to take his slides off.

When he drops me off he's going to the gym.

"The traffic is the reason we're late Nickoi," is my response.

He shakes his head and suck his teeth unconvincingly.

"Me wake yuh up so early and yuh deh pan phone the whole time," he speaks as if he's pissed I was on the phone.

I slept at his house. We didn't do anything adult-ish, well, if cuddling counts. Today is the day for that.

Try nuh get no November baby!

We want July baby.

"Look how much time we stop," I point out.

"You have a late problem, weh yuh wah do, go round that?" he gives me a look. "That's impossible."

"Okay sir," is all I say, now focusing on the song that comes on.

It's a Chronic Law song that he's always playing.

I look through the window. We're almost there. I reach for my purse, take out my Flowerbomb lotion to moisturize my arms.

"Send me the picture we take this morning," he reaches for his phone, his eyes still on the road. He's driving a little fast.

I take the phone and airdrop the picture to him.

My eyes spots Instagram.

"So how yuh say yuh no have Instagram?" I look at him.

I run my hand up and down my arm with the lotion.

"Zara press pan it," is all he says, his tone nonchalant. It annoys me. I look back at the phone screen and click on it.

It loads up. I see that he isn't logged in.