Beyond

Chapter Six

"Wear the dark purple one," DeAndré says laying the dress on the bed. I finish my makeup before slipping into the wrap dress that DeAndré picked out. "Do you know where he's taking you?"

"He's taking me to B. B. King's in the Quarter," I reply, running my fingers through my freshly curled hair. I look at myself in the mirror. There is something to be said about getting all dolled up. It's as if the higher the heels, the stronger the confidence. My heart thunders in my chest as the time until Shawn arrives ticks away. But even as I wait for Shawn to pick me up, my mind wanders to Sebastian.

I did exactly what I kept telling myself I wouldn't do since he walked out of the bookstore; and have been scrolling through his Instagram like I was holding onto a life line. DeAndré will have a field day if he learns about it.

The sound of the doorbell echoing through the apartment pulls me out of my thoughts. André and Shawn stand by the front door awkwardly.

"Hey," I say as I come down the hallway.

"Hi, you look beautiful."

I can feel my face warming. "Thanks."

"I was just telling . . . dude, what's your name again?" DeAndré asks, uninterested.

"Shawn," he replies.

"Right, Shawn. I just wanted to check him out and make sure he has your best interests at heart."

"I appreciate the concern, André, but I'm a big girl."

DeAndré rolls his eyes as if he doesn't believe me and—perhaps after hearing my sad little story about Bradley—he doesn't. But Shawn smiles and drapes his arm around my shoulders. He thinks DeAndré is poking fun and making a joke, but I know better. DeAndré is being faker than Kanye West. He never forgets the names of people he has met. It's like his superpower.

"She's in good hands, man." He looks down at me and I give a small smile. It feels forced and I hope he doesn't notice. I mean, Shawn seems like a nice guy and he's attractive for sure, but I can't shake the thought of Sebastian. The possibility that I'll see him again . . ..

"Your eyes are brown," DeAndré points out.

"Have been my whole life."

I narrow my eyes at DeAndré knowingly. He's made clear whose team he's on.

"We should head out, Shawn." He wraps his arms around my waist and leads me out the front door. I tell André to lock up when he leaves, but I know I'll come home to find him asleep on my sofa.

The restaurant is alive with noise as the hostess sits us in the middle of the crowd. The band, a local blues and Motown band, is in the middle of a cover of Ain't to Proud to Begby The Temptations. I hum along as I scan the menu.

Five minutes into our date and I know two things are for certain. One, things with Shawn will be easy. I know this by the way he holds my hand across the table gently stroking the top of my hand with his thumb. Date nights and soft touches. No surprises. I will always know where I stand with him. The second thing I know for certain is that I missthis. I miss the flutter in my chest. The sense of belonging. Things that Bradley convinced me I would never have again or that I had even deserved them at all. He doesn't mind when I steer the conversation away from me and to the book I'm currently reading.

Someone once said, "Books are a uniquely portable kind of magic" and I agree. I don't feel as alive as I do when I'm lost among the pages of a book. Maybe, that says something about me and maybe that something is negative. I don't know for sure.

But I imagine love will feel like that.

And, maybe, this thing with Shawn won't be that. I don't know. But being here with Shawn is comfortable and familiar. Kind of like a cup of coffee. It warms your insides and reminds you the bitter cold is only temporary. Shawn is that. DeAndré and Margie are that.