I slid the sleek black card in my dress pocket and turned back to look at Porter, whose nostrils were flaring. I should fuck with him.
“Small world. He seems like a nice guy,” I said as nonchalantly as possible. “Want to play another round of pool?” I looked toward Jamal and his crew. “Maybe some skee-ball?”
Porter rolled his eyes and grabbed the rest of his beer with force off the edge of the pool table. I watched as the foam sloshed onto the floor like a tidal wave. Porter drained his glass of beer, sitting it down on a nearby table with a loud thud.
“Come on. Let’s get those burgers I promised you.”
Chapter Eight
Porter
Once seated at our table, I signaled the grizzly waiter for a pitcher of beer and glanced down at the menu, occasionally looking up to see if Ari was doing the same. Once the beer arrived, I downed a glass quickly, trying to cool off. Jamal was just being Jamal. I should have known as soon as I introduced Ari as my coworker and nothing more, Jamal would try to go in for the kill. Did he really remember Ari? Maybe it was a lucky guess. But I get it. Ari is beautiful and I would have been pulling out all the stops, too. But Jamal? He was a dog. I wouldn’t hook my sister up with him if I had sisters. Not that I looked at Ari like a sister. Not in the least. But Ari deserved better than a dude who’d sexed an entire floor of a dorm and a few TAs.
But the truth of the matter was, Ari was not my girlfriend. I had no right to be territorial.
So why was I acting like a jealous boyfriend?
Just then, my cell phone buzzed. It was a text. From Jamal. This motherfucker.
“Sorry, Ari it’s…my mom,” I lied. I was a terrible liar, but I was hoping Ari wouldn’t catch on.
“Oh sure. It’s cool,” she said as she continued to peruse the burger selections.
I read Jamal’s text.
Jamal: My bad, Frat. I ain’t know you was trying to tap that. Trust, she’s had a major glow up. She’s a baddie, now.
Furiously, my fingers flew across the screen:
I’m not trying to tap anyone. But I knew what you were trying to do. And trust me, she’s not your type. You know you ain’t shit, Jamal.
Jamal wrote back: LOL You’re right, Frat. I ain’t shit. She fine though, man. Thicker than cold grits. If you don’t smash those cakes, you a punk ass b…
I forcefully swiped the screen and closed my texts before I could even read the rest. I picked up my menu and looked over it at Ari. She was staring at me with gentle, concerned eyes.
“You okay?”
“Oh yeah. It’s all good. Wh…why do you ask?”
“Because you were texting like you were cursing out your mama,” she said as a grin curled around her lips.
I laughed. “No. Just was trying to get her off the phone. You know how parents are. Old people and technology.”
She laughed. “Yeah, luckily for me, my mama hates texting. Don’t you hate that someone taught old folks how to text?” As we laughed, a calm washed over me. I was glad Jamal hadn’t derailed our time—my time—together.
The waiter came back with pen and paper in hand. “You two lovebirds decide on a burger yet?”
“Which burger looks good to you?” I asked, feeling a prickly heat of embarrassment at being mistaken for “lovebirds.” “If you need help to decide…you know I got you.”
Ari scrunched up her cute, upturned nose, examining the menu like a mad scientist. “Hmm…this one with bleu cheese and bacon seems good.”
I frowned. “Bleu cheese is kind of funky, right?”
Ari rolled those big, beautiful brown eyes. “Hey! I like it. Besides, I’m not getting in anyone’s face tonight. I’m just with you, Porter.”
Ouch. The “just with you” stung. I had that coming. It was no better than me saying “just my coworker, Ari.” The term coworker didn’t encompass what Ari and I were to each other. It was safe to say we were, at the very least, becoming friends.
“Well, then bleu cheese and bacon it is,” I stated to the waiter, who was scribbling. “I’ll take the sunny side up burger.”
“Yuck! Eggs on a burger? Is it breakfast or a burger?” Ari quipped.
“Why can’t it be both?”
The waiter laughed and shook his head, leaving us to go put in our order.
“So,” she started. “I told you about my dad. Tell me about your mama other than she is long-winded on text.”
I smirked. “My mama, her name is Eloise, is a sweet woman from a tiny town in west Texas. And she’s a die-hard Cowboys fan.”