Differences

4.

Hello.

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Claire Maureen Leonora Wilkes

As I stirred the sauce in the pot, I thought about how close Rome and I had gotten.

This is our fifth date and we still aren't official. I don't intend to rush anything, but I wouldn't mind being with him.

“So, tell me about your last relationship.” I said.

“My last what?” He asked, looking at me with an arched eyebrow.

“Relationship.” I replied with a small laugh.

“I ain't neva really been in a relationship. I was more of a in-and-out kinda nigga.” He said, turning his attention back to the side dishes.

I nodded understandingly and mentally commended his his honesty.

Noticing my demenor, he returned his attention to me.

“But I'm hopin' to do somethin' different and try bein' in one.”

“Are you referring to me?” I asked, straightforwardly.

“Maybe, but it's too soon to tell right na.” He smiled.

We waited about 20 more minutes before the dinner was ready.

He pulled my chair from the table and sat my plate in front of me.

Wearing only pants and an apron, he threw the towel over his shoulder and leaned against the counter with folded arms, watching my every move.

“Aren't you going to eat?”

“Ladies first.” He said, motioning for me to eat.

I glanced at him once more before putting the food into my mouth.

The taste came a little unexpected, but the more I chewed, the better it got.

“What is this called again?” I asked, putting more on my plate.

“Blackened Redfish. I take it that you like it.”

“I do, actually. It has an acquired taste, but it's good.” I said. “I've never had it before.”

“It's a lil popular back home.” He said as he turned to fix his plate.

“Where is home?”

“Louisiana. New Orleans ta be exact.”
“"That's right. You told me that.” I mumbled to myself as my eyes began to wander carelessly.

“You have a really nice place.” I said, examining the condo once more.

“Thank you. Wen picked it.”

“She has good taste.” I said. “But I will say I was expecting it to be more like a man cave.”

“Nahh.” He shook his a little. "I like classy furniture."

“It's really nice.” I said once again, more to myself than to him.

“I'a give you a tour sometime.”

“I'd like that.”

We engaged in small conversations with each other. After each word, I found myself more and more intrigued with him. I never grew tired of looking at him.

“You like whatchu see?” He asked, putting an end to my staring session as he put a piece of bread into his mouth.

Words failed to leave as sounds of stutter escaped.