One To Many Nights

•Chapter 2 - Getting to know you•

      It's quiet. It feels like empty spaces on a page when no one is talking. We need an icebreaker. The rain sounds quite nice though.

      "Hmm...Where did you move from and why, if I may ask?" He finally asked.

      I felt a safe aura around me like I could trust him. Yet, I still want to wait to know if he was a safe person.

      "I moved from North Carolina before we went to Japan," I said. "I'm not sure why though, but I'm not worried about that."

      "It's ok, I understand." He said. I felt even safer. He didn't question me more about my personal life like others would. Maybe he's a little uninterested?

"What about you," I asked.

      "Moved from Texas. A small town called Graham. Boring town if you ask me." He fiddled with his fingers. "What made you want to come over and talk to me?"

      "I honestly have no idea. I was laying in my bed, petting my love, and then we decided to meet our neighbors."

      "Is that something you do every time you move somewhere else?"

      "Nope. That's the first time that ever even cross my mind," I smiled. He chuckled.  

      "What's your favorite color," I asked. This question is very important to me.

"A soft forest green. What about yours," he asked.

"Almost every shade of brown."

"Almost?"

"Every one of them except the greenish-brown."

      He chuckles and nods his head. He gets up and goes into a different room. I sit in a tense way. Why am I in a hot random guy's apartment? What made me want to even get up and meet him? I pick up my love and lay her on my lap. My love...Love. Is that what I should name her? I call her that anyway, so I might as well just name her that. I want to lie down, but I don't want to get too comfortable laying in his bed. It feels so cozy on my ass though.

      Icarus comes back with a black woman-beater on. Let's hope he's not one. His shoulders look so mesmerizing. Sexiest shoulders I've seen by far in this life of mine.

      "Would you like to join me in the kitchen? I'm cooking dinner," He asks me. I set my Love back on his comfortable blankets and jump up out of excitement. I have a love for cooking. I'd marry the art and beauty of cooking if I could. He laughs. "I'll take that as a yes."

      We both walk to the medium-sized kitchen and I fall in love with his aesthetic. He has vines hanging on the brick walls and matte black pots hanging on the walls by some silver hooks he probably stuck on the wall. The stove, dishwasher, and sink are black, like mine, and his countertop is made of marble. 

       "So, what are we making," I ask. 

      "My favorite. Beef stew with white rice, homemade breadsticks, and brownies," he says. My mouth waters like a small puddle on a messed-up road.