Taste of Ms. Alexander

TWO

POV: AMANDA "ASIA" ALEXANDER

I must have said exactly what he wanted to hear because a smile stretched across his lipS. One that carried a quiet sense of satisfaction. It wasn't just any smile. it was deliberate, almost as if he had already anticipated my response and was merely waiting for me to confirm it.

Our eyes locked, and time seemed to hesitate, allowing us a few stolen seconds to take each other in, piece by piece. My gaze traveled over him, tracing the angles of his face and the way the dim airport lighting cast subtle shadows over his sharp jawline. His eyes studied me in return as if he was committing every detail to memory.

His locs were freshly re-twisted and gathered into a low ponytail that rested against the back of his neck. His almond shaped eyes, an irresistible shade of golden brown, that resembled that of caramel. The longer I stared, the more dangerous the pull became. Maybe it was too intense because he reacted by raking his fingers through his thick, well groomed beard. A small, subconscious movement that sent a ripple of heat once more up my spine.

In that moment, I wished I had the powers to read minds. What was he thinking?  The tension stretched between us, until he abruptly turned away and left me breathless in his absence. He moved with effortless confidence, a quiet dominance that made it clear he was the kind of man who never had to raise his voice to be heard. Without a word, he grabbed a luggage cart and returned, to effortlessly load my suitcases onto it.

"U have ah ride or yar tek taxi?" He asked.

His voice, awakened something I hadn't expected. It was the kind of voice you didn't just hear, you felt it. It settled into the air and was the kind you could listen to for hours and hours, yet never grow tired of.

My throat felt dry. "Oh... no. My uncle should be outside," I managed, even though I wasn't convinced.

He nodded once, then gestured for me to follow. His strides were long and purposeful. I practically had to jog to keep up because my 5'3 frame barely reached his shoulders.

Once we stepped outside, I scanned the crowd, my eyes darted from one unfamiliar face to the next. Nothing. My stomach twisted in frustration. I had messaged my uncle earlier, but my screen remained void of any response. The thought of taking a taxi wasn't an option. The little cash I had left was for emergencies, and as much as I wanted to justify it, this wasn't an emergency. With a sigh, I clung to my last glimmer of hope and dialed his number. It went straight to voicemail.

"If yuh wah, I go give yuh a ride," he said. His deep voice sliced straight through the chaos in my mind.

I hesitated, "I don't want to inconvenience you. I could just take a taxi."

"Nah, stay dey. Ah coming back." he said before he turned and strode back inside, not even waiting for a response.

For the next ten minutes, I stood there with my arms folded beneath my breast, growing more frustrated by the second. One taxi driver after another approached, asking if I needed a ride.

"Taxi, miss?"

"Need a ride?"

"Way u going?"

At first, I declined politely, but after the fifth or sixth time, annoyance started creeping in. My patience was wearing dangerously thin, and I was on the verge of giving in. It was just to end this ridiculous waiting game, but just as I let the temptation win, a heavily tinted black Suzuki Grand Vitara pulled up in front of me. The bass from the speakers vibrated through the air as Stacy Sobers – Let Me Know  blasted from inside. The door swung open, and the driver stepped out.

My mystery man came into view, effortlessly moving with the beat as he walked around to open the trunk. His right hand gripped the handle, but before lifting it, his waist gave a small, deliberate roll that synced perfectly with the rhythm. Then, his lips parted and the lyrics flowed out like second nature. His voice blended so seamlessly with the song.