Benevolence

Chapter 33: Tabanca

Once a seed is planted, there's no uprooting it. Especially if the soil favors. I can't seem to get Yazmine's words out of my head. Not that I'm considering her advice, but now I can barely look at Bryan.

Don't even get me started on what happened the day after our talk. I decided to pay a surprise visit to his condo to collect my winter coat after I was done with classes, and...

The moment I step out of the elevator, I can hear the voices of Soca artists Machel Montano and Bunji Garlin blasting through Bryan's door and into the hall. "Where's the landlord in this place?" I ask, inwardly. The simple fact that his neighbors even allow for all of that noise is distressing. Stooping down, I feel for the spare key beneath his doormat and pop back up, smiling with childlike mischief. "Let's see if I can catch another star performance," I say, remembering him singing in my bedroom.

Opening the door, I slip past and close it softly behind me. I'm oblivious, bobbing my head and humming to the music. It's only when I turn, I see him, my breath getting caught in my chest. It's way too soon to come across the scene unfolding in his living room.

He's in the far corner, where all his gym equipment is, and in between the boxing bag and the weight bench, is him-- shirtless, in front of a full-length mirror jump-roping. He's facing away from me. And the muscles lining his back are firm and flexing in his control over the weighted rope; as he goes from boxer step to single-foot jumps, all the way to criss-cross double under. Sweat creates a dewy sheen on his dark skin, and my eyes can't help but wonder the length of his body. The way he lands on the balls of his feet every time; the way his calf muscles contract under his weight. My eyes sweep higher, and I swallow thickly, finding his round derriere, the faint dimples indenting his lower back...And higher only to trace his broad shoulders, long muscled arms, and veiny hands that grip and manage the rope.

This is wrong. Everything that I'm feeling right now is wrong. I blame Yazmine for my confusion. I slowly make my way over, stopping behind the couch, my teeth gnawing at my lips. "Bryan?" I say, but it comes out weak.

He doesn't hear me, his breaths coming out short and rugged, his full lips slightly agape, and his eyes squinched as he tries to push past some personal limit. I clear my throat, averting my gaze. "Bryan," I try again. He does another criss-cross--

--AJ?" I spin, spotting Leraunte standing in the hall. Also shirtless. He closes the cap on his water bottle, smiling over at me knowingly. "What're you doing here?" He asks.

Fuck. He saw that.

I hear a loud thud, and turn to see that Bryan's dropped the rope. "Laina?" He breathes, still out of breath. He turns down the music using his phone and approaches me. "Hey," he says, catching the bottle of water Leraunte throws at him.

"Hi," I say, hating how breathy I sound. I'm trying so hard not to drop my gaze.

He steps closer, eyeing my braids, following them down to my waist. He reaches out, taking some in his hands, combing his fingers through them before settling them behind my shoulders. "...Wow," he says, meeting my eyes. "You haven't had these since..."

"High school?" I finish for him.

"Yeah...You look nice in these."

"Thanks," I say.

He frowns, probably picking up on my awkwardness. "What's up?" He asks. "You need something?"

To erase everything Yazmine said to me last night. "Uh, no--I mean yeah! I--

--I'll catch you two, later," says Leraunte. He heads for the door, grabbing his shirt from off the back of the couch, and slips it on with ease. I don't miss the low chuckling, though. He definitely witnessed my ogling.