The clock read 9:43pm as the ticking filled the room. I rested my head on the armrest of my couch, striving to sort the mess that inhabited my head.
"What am I doing?" I thought to myself.
Here I sat in a spacious, two bedroom apartment with my Barbet puppy, Frenchie, searching for an answer to my rhetorical question. I studied the frames hanging on my brick walls; the cream colored leather armchair sitting by the velvet orange couch; the solid wood squared coffee table occupying the middle of the living space, and the large twin arched windows surrounding my balcony door as I questioned my previous decision.
I knew exactly what I was doing, and now I was regretting it. But I couldn't resist it and I refuse to confess my feelings to myself.
Five years ago, I met the love of my life at the wrong time. He stood 6'1" tall and cloaked with the most ethereal brown skin. His hands felt as strong as Olorun, but his touch was as gentle as a rose petal. His voice roared like thunder, but his words were sweet as sugar. I fell in love with the most frustrating, annoying, satisfying, and loving man in the city. We fell for each other after the first greeting. The conversation, eye contact, and physical attraction was there from the start. Unfortunately, I was leaving the country in two months for a semester abroad and he had a girlfriend of two years. He was sweet temptation and I've thought about him all the time. Thoughts of him would distract me from my work; it was a drag.
We met in a Dunkin' Donuts on a Tuesday, after our classes ended. His computer science class was on the fourth floor and my public relations class was on the second floor. On that fateful day, I hurriedly left my PR class, running away from the sadistic torture my professor called a midterm exam. I decided to treat myself to the school's DD shop, hoping to cheer myself up. I opened the door to the DD, exhaling as the smell of donuts twirled around my nose, and got in line, excited to reward myself with a French curler donut and a caramel crème frozen coffee.
I deserved it, after taking that exam.
Little did I know, I would be diving head first into a pool of insatiable sin.
As I stood in line, waiting to greet the exhausted cashiers, I heard a hearty laugh vibrate off the walls. Curiosity won and I pivoted my neck to the right -- my first mistake. His smile gleamed, spreading his full lips, and reached the corner of his cheeks. His afro was thick, sat on his forehead, and stopped above his nape.
He's beautiful.
Our eyes met, stuck, until he broke the gaze to answer a text. I brought my attention back to the cashiers to order. I walked over toward the side of the counter to wait for my donuts, throwing glances his way. He sat at the table furthest away from the door, skimming through the pages of a green textbook. The corner of his lip switched upwards every time my eyes fell on his face.
"Ugh, he knows I'm checking him out," I thought to myself as I leaned against the counter, "I'm making it so obvious. I need to be cool and normal. Just be normal."
I felt a shiver down my spine and turned to see him behind me before I could finish my inner dialogue.
"Hi." My heart thumped at the sound of his velvet voice and his pretty wide smile.
"Hi." I silvery replied. I grabbed my food and he led me to the table furthest from the door -- furthest from logic.
He introduced himself as Ziyan Eastbrook, a nuclear engineer senior who enjoys football and spontaneous road trips. We met at the Dunkin Donuts, every Tuesday, for 8 weeks before I invited him back to my tight, studio apartment. We barely made it to the front door, clothed. The sex lasted for hours, multiple rounds, each time being more intense than the previous.
Ziyan's lips caressed my skin while he entered me, and a breathy escaped from me every time. After our passionate day and night, I told him about my semester abroad, hoping to continue a long distance relationship.
Sadly, he confessed to having a girlfriend. I was hurt. I cursed and screamed until my throat went dry, demanding he leave my place. He told me he didn't care. He didn't care if his girlfriend found out about us. Ziyan wanted me -- needed me. He wanted to wake up to my black mess of curls and deep brown eyes every morning, and I did it, too.
But not as his side chick.
I couldn't forgive him for lying to me and I couldn't forgive myself for letting it get that far. So, I stopped going to the Dunkin Donuts on the school campus, blocked his number and left for Belgium after four weeks.
Years went by and I never found anyone that fucked me like Ziyan did. I dated different types of men; I searched for the intensity I once knew and came up empty. The men I entertained didn't measure up to his presence, but lied to me just the same. After a while, I stopped dating. It felt stupid to put up with mediocre sex and constant lying.
Thankfully, things changed a few weeks ago. I heard his laugh as I entered my favorite place in the world, Dunkin Donuts. He waited in line, chatting on the phone. His laugh never changed. I stared at the back of his head, hoping he would sense my presence like he did before.
Ziyan never disappoints.
He turned, our eyes locked, and his lips twitched upward in the same way as it did in college, only difference to his face was his thick beard. His eyes still shimmered and I still got lost in them. Before I could process my thoughts, he wrapped his arms around me and squeezed me into his chest. I inhaled his scent, intoxicated by his Burberry cologne, and wrapped my arms around his waist, bringing us closer.
Ziyan's warmth felt good. It felt like hugging a cup of hot chocolate on a snowy day. It was everything I missed when I left the country. We held on to each other until we heard someone cough behind us.
Embarrassed, I swiftly released my grip around him and backed away from his embrace. His arms fell, but his smile stayed.
