Love Delayed

by Love Belvin

  She’s a quick study.

  She shrugged. “Then give her the opportunity to get to know the real you. You can’t hide behind that woe is me cry forever. You already have her earnest attention. That’s half the battle. Make it work for you.” Zoey glanced down at the water, withdrawing eye contact. Her eyes slanted as though she’d been struck with a thought. “Your fears are greater than your reality.” It was delivered like more of a statement than a question. “Sometimes we allow our fears to stifle us. If you want companionship, you’re going to have to lower your guard, just a smidge, to give it a try. If you hide up high on your mountain of fear and paranoia, no one can reach you.”

  Her statement jarred me. I couldn’t believe that nugget of wisdom was executed by a damn youngster. I’d never had a woman encourage a relationship with another woman; they were too busy making an opportunity for themselves. I had been struggling with fear of trusting women. Women with access to my realm of lifestyle were bred. Their faces, color and shapes varied, but their motives never did. Men were the same for that matter. Everyone had a fucking agenda. Since cleaning up my image, I’ve cleaned up my contact list, too.

  Even Erika was schooled by her mother on how to bag an athlete. She’d had one or two in her day as well. I wouldn’t be the first baller Erika fucked with and I doubt if I’d be the last. What I did know for sure was that I didn’t want to be a part of that circus. Especially having run into this… Niña.

  I studied her lips. The images of them and my body parts ran through my mind in rapid succession. They were all immoral…for this young girl.

  “You think your cousin would approve that message?”

  Zoey snorted, “No more than I approve the one she’s giving your boy, Alton Alston, right now.” She rolled her eyes softly.

  Fucking pretty.

  Our phones went off almost simultaneously. Alton and Angela were done. And unfortunately, so was my time with this Zoey girl. I left the pool having made a sound decision. I’d be putting Erika’s ass on the back burner. Her body may have acquired several accolades and titles, but her conversation and intellectual measure couldn’t hold a candle to this young girl, Zoey. My quandary was what I felt having spent the past two days with Zoey and how that fucked with my head, because wanting Zoey was ridiculous.

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  Zoey

  Two days after swimming with Stenton, we found ourselves at one of the restaurants at the country club. And while the atmosphere wasn’t as charged with coldness and mutual resentment at having to babysit each other, Stenton and I weren’t exactly friends either. At least not until the end of that day.

  As I ate chicken parmesan that had a bit too much sauce and not enough cheese, I kept my head in my plate. We’d been spending lots of early afternoons together and I still wasn’t able to give him direct eye contact unless I was reaming him out for one of his backhanded remarks.

  Stenton wasn’t disrespectful to me, at least not like I felt Alton was. He did however, have a potty mouth: the type of vulgarity that matched his scandalous tattoos. Even with that observation, I secretly thought fondly of how he expressed himself unabashedly. He was brutally honest about whatever we discussed, and there was something comforting about that characteristic.

  And his body…whoa! I’d hoped he didn’t catch my stumble when we got out of the pool that day. His chest was wide and defined, but not bulky. His tattooed torso glistened from water running down his chest and abdomen. I’d gotten an up close and personal opportunity at viewing the various scripts, Chinese lettering and other graphics driving my curiosity. His trunks hung low…like really low…and I saw the muscular outline of his pelvis. I felt throbbing between my legs and nearly jumped a 180 degree turn to stop my ogling. I’d never thought I’d be privy to his body like that. It felt invasive—more invasive than the conversations we’d taken on in the pool.

  It stung when he told me he didn’t have a girlfriend. I felt like Angela and I had been duped into something we didn’t sign up for. But the more I thought about it, I realized what Angela had going on with Alton, we did ask for; it was the very thing she was seeking with Stenton, only he wasn’t interested.

  Then I debated telling her. My mind raced for hours after the revelation. The decision not to, ruled out. I thought telling her that Stenton and Alton lied would cause her to feel less appealing. I didn’t want her to think she wasn’t good enough for any man. Stenton was not God. She could move on and she did…with Alton.

  My phone rang, calling my attention back to the table. I checked the number and saw that it was Bernard. I sent it to voicemail, figuring I’d call him back when I was alone. I wasn’t exactly prepared to share that I was at a country club, having lunch with Stenton Rogers. He’d likely think I’d lost all my scruples. I wouldn’t have even believed me.

  I turned all of this over in my mind as I forked through my food.

  “Linkin Park, huhn?” I heard from across the table. It annoyed me to no end what I felt when I heard his tenor most times. My throat would close up and pulse would race simply at the sound of his voice.

  “I didn’t catch that,” I replied.

  “Your ringtone…“Numb”.” His chin was angled to the table, but his eyes were on me.

  My body was inclined to my plate as I peered up at him. “Oh, yeah. I like them,” I said noncommittally.

  “You must more than like them if you’ve selected them as your ringtone.”

  “What’s wrong with me liking them? Because I’m a black girl and they’re a rock band?” My tone was derisive.

  I got so annoyed with people finding it unethnic of me to like genres other than gospel, R&B and rap. I mean, isn’t there more to life than those three groups of music? Are they the only ones blacks subscribe to?

  Stenton’s mouth drew up as did his eyes when he shook his head. “Do you like Coldplay?”

  “Some of their stuff. They can be a little too soft melodically for my taste. I like some of the harder stuff…the ones pushed from the gut.” I wasn’t ashamed to speak about my peculiar interests.

  “Funny…I just knew you’d say “Yellow” is your favorite.”

  “It’s…cute. “Harder to Breathe” makes you feel. I prefer angst to my rock, or at least something that makes me feel.”

  Stenton scoffed. “I don’t consider Maroon 5 a rock band. They’re dope and all, but they can go too soulful.”

  “And what’s the matter with that? All music can be soulful.” I found my neck jerking.

  He scanned the ceiling, letting out a silent chuckle. My stomach did flips when his teeth unveiled. I hated how whenever Stenton smiled, it felt like the sun moved beyond the clouds. And when he smiled with his eyes on me, I felt the cascade of water from the most refreshing spring. I saw the oasis where the sun met the water and created the best ambiance nature had to offer. I saw every detail of it. His smile was that beautiful.

  “Right now “Secret” is what I feel,” he shared, sobering his voice and descending his cheeks, but the slant in his eyes remained.

  His tone was unmistakably scandalous. I had no idea how to take that comment.

  “Is that what you feel about the girl you took out last week?” My eyes fell to my plate and I pushed my food around.

  “Definitely not,” he answered before taking a short breath. “Where did you pick up rock?”

  I lifted my shoulders before releasing them. “My mom cleaned houses in the summer in Baskin Ridge. Her customers had children who were having trouble in school. She mentioned how I could probably help. One summer, I made $500 doing something that came natural to me. I kept going back at the request of the parents. Their children listened to a different kind of music and I caught on to it quickly. One year their dad brought home KISS t-shirts signed by Gene Simmons himself.”

  “Dope.” Stenton nodded. His hands were in his lap, and his eyes were in his plate. “So, you tutored?

  “Yeah. Still do. Make a few pennies from it, too.”

&n
bsp; He nodded again, appearing to absorb my words. It was weird…like he was really interested. I figured everyone had a story.

  “So how do you know rock?”

  He exhaled as he sat up in his seat. “When they learned I could ball, the first thing they determined was they needed to keep my black ass out of Newark outside of the school year. So, during summer and spring and winter breaks I’d stay with families of coaches to train in upstate New York, Connecticut, Delaware…all over. I learned lots of shit; music, art…a few languages. It felt like being passed around, but I got exposed to different cultures and eventually learned how to use it to my benefit.”

  “Do you listen to hip-hop and R&B?”

  Stenton lowered his chin. “Zoey, I’m from Newark, NJ; of course I listen to rap and R&B. They just aren’t the only two types of music I enjoy. I really dig rock. It allows you to lower your inhibitions. You don’t have to dance to it, and if you do, you don’t need rhythm. It’s also all-inclusive. Whenever I go to rock concerts, I’m always welcomed and not because I’m Stenton Rogers either. It’s because they are a group of misfits who were once the cast-asides of society. So they take to underdogs. They accept all people.”

  “Is that why Angela said you’re referred to as the NBA rocker boy?”

  He shook his head. “At first it started off as a locker room jibe, but as the years passed, and…incidences occurred, the moniker seemed to fit. And I never really gave a fuck about what people thought of me anyway.” He tossed his lips into the air.

  “So, how do you know about philosophy?”

  He went for his glass and took a gulp. “I know a little bit about everything. When you’re a promising all-star player, you’re given tools most kids from your city are incapable of dreaming about. When my talent was discovered, I was provided tutors to keep me afloat in school. I had curriculums that covered the state requirements and were catered to my learning ability.”

  “Nice. Having everything handed to you.” I tried to hide the sarcasm in my voice.

  “Nope. I had to go to class. I had to perform well academically. I only had two responsibilities: maintain my studies and maneuver the ball. My schedules were set for me and that’s all I did for years. I knew guys in some of the ball camps I went to who didn’t fare well with school.” He shrugged. “I so happened to be a sponge and soaked up everything, but only retained what interested me. I didn’t have much of a life outside of dribbling a ball, as you so eloquently put it last week at the restaurant. Sometimes it was my escape from the court when there was too much pressure from others’ expectations. I had great tutors, which is why I can respect what you do. If it weren’t for them, I wouldn’t have made the grades that I did because I put in so many hours on the court.”

  “Hmmm…” I chewed on the inside of my lip.

  Stenton angled his head to the side. “What’s never brought up is the controversy during the summer I got drafted. America had so much to say about my decision to skip college. I had been offered a full ride to Rutgers, UCLA, Howard, Florida State and a few other schools.”

  “For basketball,” I asserted.

  Stenton shook his head. “Those schools were for academic achievements. I didn’t name the ones for sports. But everyone seems to Google those offering scholarships for balling. The same info can be found about my academic accomplishments. I could have gone either way. I simply went with my passion. Why not circumvent the journey and go straight to my passion?”

  Why did I suddenly feel like crap? Who knew he was more than a dribbling jock? The man with the filthy mouth, whorish behavior, and tattoo shell had a brain, too?

  “What do you know about…trigonometry?” I quizzed.

  “Ah, man, that sine, cosine and tangent ‘where a D is constant’ bullshit bored the hell out of me. I was a B student at best there.” Stenton chuckled.

  “Okay. What about…quantum mechanics?” I took it up several notches.

  “That’s the more modern science. I’m from the old school where we learned elementary particles, atoms, molecules, substances…metals, crystals and other groups of matter. Not that New Age shit.”

  I took in a forkful and chewed while looking him directly in the eye. “You never answered my question though,” I challenged slickly, feeling the need to get one off on him. He was probably okay in school, but he wasn’t Zoey type of good.

  Stenton rolled his eyes as he sighed and dropped his fork onto his plate, making a clash of it. “Quantum mechanics pretty much provides an extensive framework for several features of the modern periodic table. One thing it encompasses is the activities of atoms during chemical bonding. That bullshit has been substantial in the development of many modern technologies. Blah…blah…blah.”

  My mouth dropped. “Jeez Louise! You’re a geek!”

  Stenton snorted. “I’d much rather be called a cerebral rocker baller,” he murmured as he went back for his food.

  I realized from that conversation that there was more to Stenton than just his tattoos and a ball. Why was it that no one talked about that aspect of his abilities? Why was he never quizzed on trivia during interviews? It would provide a great spin for shows and make their talk a lot less mundane. I’d guessed that Stenton was right when he said people only know what they want to know.

  I, on the other hand, wanted to know more.

  My fixation with Stenton took off at that point. I found that he occupied my thoughts throughout my day, no matter where I was or what I was doing. I could be in class and found myself etching his name, at church and itched to check his timeline, and/or out with the guy I was seeing at the time, Andrew, and wondering what Stenton’s conversations were like while on a date.

  Almost immediately, our friendship seemed to have evolved to written communication via inboxes on Facebook. They were random, fun and exciting all at once. I’d nervously initiate mine and hold my breath awaiting his response. I knew he was a busy man doing I had no idea what, but busy.

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  Me: I have a question that you can’t be offended by.

  I waited for his reply.

  Stenton: I’m game. Do you.

  Me: Ummmm… Are those your real teeth?

  My heart beat wildly in my chest. It was a burning question I’d had since the first time I’d seen his smile. His real smile. Not only was I struck by how long it took to experience it, but also by its radiance. The brilliance of Stenton’s smile was blinding. I was growing attached to it. He was generous with sharing it with me. Experiencing that man’s smile was like discovering a crisp well on a parching pilgrimage. It instantly decompressed all stressors.

  Stenton: What the fuck Zo? LMAO

  Me: IJS! They’re kinda big…too nicely aligned.

  Stenton: And so are your boobs but you don’t see me inquiring about their authenticity.

  Me: Don’t be pigheaded, you dork.

  I wouldn’t speak on the sensation that flashed in my core at his comeback. That was private along with the rest of the inexplicable things he caused me to feel without his hands…or mouth.

  Stenton: Don’t go getting all prudish. I used to get teased a lot as a kid about my big ass choppers. Trust me when I say I’ve grown into them.

  Me: I don’t believe you.

  Stenton: Don’t believe what?

  Me: That your teeth are real.

  Stenton: I’ll prove it to you.

  Me: How?

  Stenton: I don’t know. I’ll think of something. And then you’ll prove your boobs are real.

  Me: Dude! I’m poor. My parents can’t afford a boob job!

  Stenton: But you studied around rich people. Who’s to say you didn’t have a sponsor?

  Me: Touché

  I tossed my phone in my purse before Andrew returned to the car and found me entranced in it. He stopped in WaWa to get cash for our date this evening. The entire conversation with Stenton had me blushing so hard my face hurt. Too many racy thoughts were running through my mind to continue this conversa
tion. The first being how I would inspect this man’s teeth.

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  Me: I did it.

  I typed and hit send. Butterflies took flight in my belly. I was taking a risk, but he was the first person I wanted to share this news with for some crazy reason.

  It would be over an hour before I got a reply.

  Stenton: Did what?

  Me: I broke up with Andrew.

  Stenton: Who the hell is Andrew?

  Me: My boyfriend, you geek.

  Stenton: Still no wow factor?

  He remembered? Excitement kindled throughout my body.

  Me: None.

  Stenton: LMAO What finally did it?

  Me: We were at his place and he was flipping through the music channels. He was trying to find music to set the mood I guess and skipped over the rock channel (btw “Love Somebody” was playing) to find another genre I asked him to turn back. He said no and that he wanted jazz. I grabbed my stuff and left. I mean, who doesn’t feel like getting “wowed” off Maroon 5?

  I held my breath after hitting send, wondering if I gave too much. I must have read my message twice before Stenton’s response came through.

  Stenton: Maybe he thought you wanted to get messy like they did in the video. All jokes aside… Who in the hell needs music to set the mood? You can make your own sounds to get off. He’s a fucking asshat…an asshat that doesn’t like to get messy apparently.

  My head dipped back and I laughed to the point of tears, never mind the bit of arousal I felt when I momentarily allowed my mind to wander to the sounds Stenton alluded to.

  Me: Are you busy?

  Stenton: Kinda. In a meeting with my McDonalds reps.

  Oh, noooo!

  Me: Stenton! That’s pretty important. Go! Stop inboxing!

  Stenton: My lawyer’s a fucking pit bull. He’s here putting fire under their asses.

  I didn’t know how to respond to that. He was busy. Although I wanted to chat more, had endless questions and topics to explore, he was in fact busy. My fingers tapped the wall to the right of me, contemplating.

  Stenton: I know you’re making that clicking sound with the back of your mouth. It’s cool Zo. The conversation is flowing. I’ll end our conversation here but let’s hang out tomorrow. You can give me more details on your breakup.