50 Shades of Drake 1 and 2

Chapter Two

    After work, Destiny rushed to the apartment she shared with two other roommates. She had to quickly shower and change into an outfit that was more appropriate for class. Her khaki pants and white button-down shirt had specks of flour all over it. She chose a pair of jeans, a simple lavender top, sneakers, and a fashionable black peacoat.

    She grabbed her backpack and checked her appearance in the floor-length mirror near the door to the apartment.

    Candace Patterson, one of her roommates, poked her head out of her room. "Are you headed to class?"

    "Yeah," Destiny said, adjusting a few strands of her straight, dark hair. "Did you need me to pick up anything?"

    Candace, a pretty brown-skinned girl with eyebrows arched to perfection, shook her head firmly. "No, but you might want to call Jordan back," she suggested. "He's calling the landline like crazy. I finally picked up so the boy would stop calling. He said you're ignoring his calls on your cell."

    "And I'm going to continue to ignore his phone calls to my cell," Destiny said, rummaging around her small black purse and withdrawing a tube of lip gloss. She applied the lip gloss to her lips.

    "You're going to have to talk to him at some point," Candace said, opening her bedroom door wider and planting a hand on her hips. Her shoulder-length hair was pulled up into a sleek bun. She wore a white tank top and red plaid shorts. She was lucky; she didn't have classes today. "The boy is going crazy without you."

    "He should have thought about that before he kissed another girl," Destiny said flatly, turning to face her friend and roommate.

    Candace crossed her arms over her chest. She'd never been a fan of Jordan before, so the fact that she was encouraging Destiny to return his call meant that he must have sounded pretty desperate on the phone.

    The moment she'd walked into his apartment and seen his lips locked with another girl's, an internal switch had flipped off. Her feelings for him died that day. She had a low opinion of cheaters. She also had a low tolerance for them. She had friends who gave cheating boyfriends a second chance, but she was not one of those girls. Cheating was a sign of complete disrespect. It was too easy to have a conversation and suggest taking a break to see other people. Maybe a case of easier said than done, but still much better than cheating and getting caught.

    Destiny buttoned her peacoat.

    "Even if you call him back to tell him to screw off, that would be better than ignoring his calls at this point," Candace said with her arm outstretched.

    Destiny shrugged. "Maybe." She didn't know why she was delaying it. Her friend was right. At some point she'd have to have a conversation with him, especially with how persistent he was being. She couldn't ignore him forever. Maybe I'm afraid that I'll take him back, she thought to herself as she exited the apartment and checked to make sure the door was locked.

    As she left her apartment building and got into her car, a modest blue Hyundai sedan, her thoughts drifted elsewhere. She pictured a certain powerful man she'd met earlier that morning, at work. A man who went by the name of Aubrey Drake Graham. She'd kept an eye on him, even as she took other customers' orders. He'd grabbed a table near the window. He'd done a lot of typing on his phone, text messages maybe, or business e-mails. His phone rang a couple of times, but he silenced the ringer both times. He ate his food slowly while gazing out of the window. A few people recognized him and approached him. He'd been polite, but not chatty. He answered questions with brief, one-word answers. While eating, he cut into his food in a very precise manner. None of his movements, or words, ever seemed to be wasted.

    Watching him had fascinated her. Quiet, reserved, with a regal poise that she hadn't personally seen anyone else possess. Exuding an understated confidence that contradicted his attitude as a rapper, who'd shouted to the world just how cocky he was. Even then, there had been contradictions to those expressions of confidence, but now...now he gave off an elegance, a classiness, and there was an air of mystery about him.

    At one point, he turned away from the window and stared straight ahead. Then, he turned his head further and looked at her, as if he'd felt her eyes on him. Her breath had caught in her throat, and she attempted to look busy wiping down the counters. There was no point in standing around and watching his every move or daydreaming about him. When he looked at her, he didn't see a future leading journalist. He didn't know that was her goal. When he looked at her, he saw a lowly barista, a girl who tendered his cash, took his order, and poured his coffee. They lived in two completely different worlds.

    While wiping the counters, she snuck another look at him. He was still staring at her thoughtfully and without shame. He finished his breakfast and carefully collected the remnants of his meal. He smoothed his tie again as he rose to his feet and carried his trash to the nearest trash bin. He reached in his suit jacket pocket, removed a small packet, and opened it. He pulled a moist towelette out of the packet, wiped his hands, and tossed the towelette's wrapper in the trash bin. He collected his cell phone from the table and nodded in her direction before leaving.

    She watched his departure, and even watched him walking outside of the window. He lifted his cell phone to his ear and started speaking into it. That was the last thing she'd seen before he strolled out of sight.

    The memory faded. Realizing that she was sitting in her car with the key in the ignition, she blinked her eyes and started the car. How is a girl supposed to focus on school classes after an encounter like that? she wondered as she drove through the streets of Washington, D.C. Another image of him flashed before her eyes while she was sitting at a red light. He'd looked downright delectable in that suit. His deep voice had rolled across her skin, as effective as a gentle caress. And his eyes...hands down her favorite feature on him. Down-turned at the corners, filled with intensity, and the color of Godiva chocolate. He didn't use a lot of words when he spoke, and his movements were measured and calculated, but everything anyone had to know about him resided in those beautifully-shaped brown eyes.