Wrong for Me

05|brown sugar

DANTE MANCINI—MAY

LUCKILY, WE MADE IT to the ice cream stand without anymore incidents, but I couldn't keep my eyes off Naomi the entire time. She was truly one of the most gorgeous women I had ever seen and her side profile even had me in a trance. No other woman had ever made me pay attention to her side profile.

Admittedly, I was a bit out of my comfort zone so far with Naomi—only because of how confident and sure of herself she was. Not that other women I pursued weren't confident, it was just that there seemed to be an unspoken understanding that I was the dominant one in the pairing. Naomi's very being seemed to challenge that—and I was starting to think that I didn't mind.

"You know what...let me try the salted caramel too," she told the guy in the stand as they chuckled about her third sample. I had already chosen my flavor but she was having a harder time. "Mmh, that's delicious. I'll take that."

Finally, both of us with ice cream in hand, we dragged our bikes over to a bench and took a seat beside one another.

"I've finally figured out my hobby for you," I spoke as she devoured her ice cream, turning to face with me with curiosity evident on her face. "Golf."

I watched as her eyebrows furrowed and she dropped her spoon back in her ice cream. "Golf? You really are thirty-eight, aren't you?" Instantly, she burst out into laughter.

"What is that supposed to mean?" I asked amusedly. It was hard not to be amazed by each and everything she said.

I knew exactly what she meant—golf was a sport filled with a bunch of wealthy, old men, which I was not—well maybe the wealthy part. Even though I was nearing my forties, I didn't feel like it. I still looked young, I was still in shape, and I was successful.

"I'm sorry, I guess I shouldn't hobby shame," she replied after her little laughing fit. "Golf is a very...respectable hobby to have, Dante."

"I appreciate your acceptance."

We finished our ice cream shortly thereafter and then we realized we had to bike all the way back to drop them off. I wasn't bothered—I could burn off the ice cream—but Naomi was not up for it.

"We can ride back...but I fear I might perish on the way there," she sighed dramatically, throwing her head back and placing a hand over her heart.

"You're something else."

Eventually, she climbed onto the bike and we were off and on our way back to the entrance of the park. Night had mostly fallen by now and the park was only filled with a few stragglers other than us.

Beside me, Naomi began hum a song as we rode—and I never knew a hum could be so beautiful. The first day I met her at the restaurant, it was her singing that captivated me before I even got to take in her full appearance.

"Is singing a hobby of yours too?"

She paused her humming and looked over at me with an almost perplexed expression. "I guess you could say it is. I just know way too many songs and sing them whenever they cross my mind. And music has always been one of my favorite things in this world with the way it can evoke so much emotion."

"Which song is it today?"

Just days ago, I would have chastised myself for even asking that question.  I was never the person to be interested in those types of things about the women I dated. They could ask me a million questions to get to know me and all I would ask is if they wanted to sleep with me. But I wanted to know everything about Naomi.

"Brown Sugar by D'Angelo," she replied cooly before going back to singing the song and swerving her bike closer to mine.

I didn't know the song, but now I knew that I had to listen to it as soon as possible.

Before I knew it, we were back at the entrance and dropping our bikes off. Standing across from each other, I finally got the chance to take in her full frame other than her normal work uniform and wow. The black leggings she wore clung tightly to her thick, toned thighs—and butt—while her top showed just a peek of her slim waist.

"That was fun!" She exclaimed, bringing my eyes back up to her face as she sent me a bright smile. "Glad you could keep up."

"Just remember that you were the one who flipped over their handle bars," I reminded her, watching as her smile grew causing her eyes to crinkle up at the side. "We'll have to do it again sometime."

"Definitely. But next date is your choice."

I watched as she twirled a strand of her coils that fell out of the bun she had it in—seemingly something she did when she was nervous. I didn't know why, but I got some sort of satisfaction knowing that I made her nervous—probably because she had the same effect as me. It was a relief to know that we shared the same feelings.

"That's fine by me."

With that, we said our goodbyes and I made sure she got to her car safely and pulled away before finally heading over to mine. Settling into the seat, I let out a sigh as I reminisced about the night we had—how fun it had been.

She was something new in my life, but something I definitely wanted to hold onto already.

***
NAOMI COLE

"HOW WAS IT?" VERONICA asked excitedly as I walked into the apartment, slipping a bookmark into whatever novel she was reading this week. I was sure she would give me an entire speech about why I should read it.

"Um, great. Except for the part where I flipped over my handle bars and landed in the grass."

I flopped onto the couch next to her as she began to inquire endlessly about each and every detail about the date. Normally this would get on my nerves, but I liked talking about the date—it made me feel like I was reliving it. It had definitely gone better than expected.

"Okay, well any red flags so far? You know you're the queen of finding a flaw," she reminded me. I truly was, I wouldn't hesitate to find a flaw in a guy and call him out for it.

"Only the age gap and that he calls my puff a bun."

We both burst into laughter at the last part—it was a common thing that happened to me. It started out with me despising it until Veronica and I turned it into a game of counting how many people called it a bun.

"Ah he's the infamous fifteenth person. Remember that."

"I'll have to make sure to correct him on that one. But for now...I shall ponder on the date. See you in the morning."

We gave each other a quick hug before I headed to my room and took a calming shower. The shower was my favorite place for critical thinking—it was often the place I went to craft any thesis for my papers.

The age gap between Dante and I was a constant on my mind—I liked to think that it didn't creep me out—it didn't—but it did cause some fear. Of course, it was too early to think about a long future with him, but what if we did decide to be together and saw problems with the age difference. What would my parents think?

By the time I got out of the shower, I hadn't been able to come up with anymore cons about the guy, but I was one hundred percent sure that I wanted to spend time with him again—despite my concerns.