Meet Me Halfway

by Xyla Turner

  "Nadine, listen to me. Please listen." My brother was running his hand through his previously styled hair every thirty seconds. "Will you stop?"

  I wanted to interrupt but he seemed desperate, so I just waited.

  "No, no, no. You can't do this," he seethed. "You can't cut me off like that. I told you how I feel about you. I meant every fucking word. I don't care if she's pregnant...I'll take care of my responsibilities...Fuck, Nadine. No, goddammit. I've waited too long for you. I didn't fuck it up. I'm not asking you to take care of another woman's baby... What does her being white have to do with anything? No, I'm not taking up for the prejudice bitch...No. No. NO!" Mills yelled. "Nadine, I said, No. Don't do this!"

  He looked at the phone and hit a few buttons. After holding the phone to his ear, he tapped on the buttons again and put it to his ear.

  "Fuck!" he snapped. "FUUUUCCCKKK!"

  He took the smartphone in one hand, cocked it back and threw it like a pro-baseball player from the MLB. The phone shattered into tiny pieces and bounced off the wall like water from a shower tile.

  "Mills," I called, so he knew I was there.

  I tried to recall what my brother was asking me back when he was talking about another woman and letting go of Rebecca. From it, I gathered he was into someone else. How into her, I didn't know until he turned around with a beet red face and tears in his eyes.

  "She called it off and blocked my number," he mumbled. "She wants nothing to do with me. Me, the baby or my drama of a baby mama."

  He sounded as if he were repeating her words. The man looked crushed, like someone had died and maybe a part of him did. I knew that feeling all too well and I did what we often didn't do, just like we never cried. I closed the distance between us and pulled my little brother in for a hug. Oddly enough, his arms wrapped around me tight because even if we didn't do it often enough, he needed one at that moment.

  Once Mills gathered his composure, he helped me get the drunk guy outside, in a cab and to the address on his identification card. Mills drove home after I told him we'd have to catch up later this week. Nina was still waiting for me out on the steps when we were leaving.

  "Is Mills alright?" she asked.

  "No," I answered. "It's a long story but I'll tell you about it later."

  Her head nodded and that's when I noticed she was carrying her shoes in her hand.

  "Your feet hurt?" I asked with a smirk.

  "Hell yeah. These bad boys would make any woman weep," Nina huffed as she gave the shoes a menacing glare.

  I held out my hand for her to take and said, "Come with me. I'll massage those feet and anything else you want rubbed."

  Her eyebrows went up, then she cocked her head and asked in a warning tone, "That a good idea?"

  "You tell me." I turned the question around on her. "You said you weren't ready but about which part? I want everything. I ain't settling for just fucking you. Just kissing you. Just having dinner with you. I want every goddamn thing. So, Nina. You tell me, what are you not ready for?"

  She stared at me for what felt like a lifetime before she answered.

  "This is a loaded question, Knox." She raised her palm up. "I'd like some time to answer it."

  "How much time you talking about?" I asked. "Don't mince words, give me your truth."

  That was when her eyes turned away for a minute then she delivered the blow, I wasn't expecting.

  "I'll know by next Tuesday. I'd like to talk it over with my therapist." She must have read the look on my face because she jumped in and said, "Not to get her approval or anything. I just want to speak out what I'm feeling with everything that you've said and everything that I want."

  This was a new Nina. She didn't scoff, laugh or hide around the issue. She gave me a straight answer which was the only thing I could ask for. Yet, I had two more questions.

  "Tell me this," I started. "What do you want?"

  With no hesitation or even a blink, she answered, "You."

  My head nodded as my heart leaped.

  "Okay, last question before I take you back to my hotel room." I moved closer to her with only a foot in between us. "Would you ever marry me?"

  No thoughts, no flinching or even a shadow.

  "Yes," she said like I’d asked her if the sky was blue.

  At that point, I grabbed her hand and pulled her to the last limo that waited around for us and tried not to fuck her senseless in the back of a moving vehicle. Instead, I flicked her wet pearl the entire ride to the hotel, bringing Nina to several orgasms that I’d kiss from her. When we arrived inside my room, I slide off her dress, and all the other shit she had on underneath it. My fingers began to rub the balls of her feet before I put those toes in my mouth.

  Nina nearly leapt off the bed with that move.

  "Knox!" she gasped.

  "Shhh," I hushed her. "You want me. You said you would marry me. Tell me more."

  I pressed her body back down as I kissed my way up her calf, then up her thigh and to the V of her crotch. She was already so wet and my tongue craved the taste of her essence.

  "Tell me," I repeated.

  "You," she inhaled. "Just want you. Nobody else. In my bed, in my head, in my tight pussy. Going in and out, making me scream. Punishing me when I'm naughty. Fucking me when I'm hungry. Fingering me when I'm horny. Loving me when I'm lonely."

  I stopped.

  Everything stopped.

  My mouth let go of her shiny pearl and I looked up at her.

  "Never again, Nina. You'll never be lonely on my watch. You hear?" I told her. "Never."

  "Yes, baby." She smiled and as much as I wanted to suck on her clit, I pulled up and entered my woman's waiting heat.

  It had been awhile but she was still tight and I groaned with every push. She was squeezing me so hard and all I could do was kiss her lips and make her know through our connection that I loved her.

  Loved us.

  Loved this.

  "Knox," she moaned. "Yes, Knox."

  We rocked what seemed like most of the night and into the morning. Bringing each other to orgasms, rest and then more orgasms. Nina lay sprawled on top of me for a while until she murmured, "Where will we live?"

  "Don't fucking matter to me," I emphasized since I was wide awake.

  The sun was peeking through the curtains and the room was filled with the smell of our heavy sex. I'd order room service when I got up but I didn't want to break our post-sexacapade talk.

  "You would move to New York?" Nina asked me with her chin digging in my chest and arms bent on both sides.

  "In a heartbeat," I answered. "I've thought about moving to Kentucky but a certain someone no longer lives there."

  Nina didn't laugh like I thought she would. Instead she whispered, "You were thinking of moving to Kentucky? Really?"

  "Well, yeah. I have a major five-year contract down there," I answered.

  "Ha." She laughed. "I thought about that too but not in Evans."

  "Then it's settled." I slapped her on the ass. "We'll meet half-way."

  "Half-way it is," she laughed.

  The end.

  Thank you for reading Nina and Knox’s story! It took longer than I expected but I hope you enjoyed this couple as much as I enjoyed writing them. One way to show that is by reviewing wherever you purchased this book.

  Now, the question is, are you ready for Mills and Nadine? Are you really ready? The Timms’ men sure know how to pick their women.

  Bonuses:

  Sneak Peek of March: In Her Shoes Series

  Sneak Peek of Undertones

  Sneak Peek of The Client - not available with online retailers

  Peek —> March: In Her Shoes

  CHAPTER 1

  Alexus:

  The morning before work:

  Nope, I would not get on that scale again to see how many pounds I'd gained over the holidays. There was no need. I decided to live and let live. I decided not to count my carbohydrates, check the back of the stupid boxes, o
r even look at the gravy hovering on the sides of the mashed potatoes. Yes, I declined the salad, and no, I did not care that all the skinny people at the table ate one baby tomato from a fork every ten minutes. Yes, I was paying attention to those facts because that is what I do.

  Shortly after I mentally stuck up my middle finger and said fuck them all, the guilt rides in on its pitiful horse, and I attempt to reshape my nonchalant attitude. The fact is that I will die with cats and dogs by my side and probably from an early and untimely death. Well, at least, that is how my doctor looks at me when she says stuff like, "Well, you've probably heard this before, but you must eat healthier and..."

  Get the fuck out of here in my thick Brooklyn accent was my first thought. The woman knows damn well I have heard it before. Yeah, I've heard all of that before, but come on, let's be serious. If I do not have it together in thirty-five years, why is this particular lecture different?

  “Yeah, I know.” That’s my usual response because I do know.

  Exercise, eat healthy, substitutions, fruits, vegetables, organic, blah, blah, blah.

  I know.

  Yet, I stood standing in the mirror with flutters in my stomach, eeriness in my conscious, and that recurring notion that I am the biggest loser. I was overweight or as the doctor said, obese for my height; and though I joke about those cats, it may be a reality.

  *****

  “Hey Alexus, you're looking good girl,” Barry cooed as I walked in the direction of my office but had to pass by his cubicle in the main office.

  He was the office flirt, and since we worked in the Social Work Department at Mekaville University, Barry was known to date a student or two. It was to his benefit that we were in the graduate office and all of his prey were of consenting age and semi-mature. His exhibitions were usually the office jokes, especially after one of the female students smacked his face and left her fingerprints on the man’s pale cheek when he was flirting with Courtney near the water fountain.

  After my monthly meltdown in my bathroom earlier that morning, a small smile spread across my face because I knew I looked good but that was only on the outside. My shirt was new; it hid my stomach rolls and hung in a way that my breasts were the focal point, my pants were loose but professional and my brand new cognac colored boots were made to be worn out. They were my new love, and if I wanted to make an impression, those boots were definitely my go to. They were not everyday boots but ‘my stepping out on the town, so I could leave a trail, I need to feel better about myself, sort of boots.

  That is what I had.

  I could look good, which made me temporarily feel good. However, when the lights were off and I was in the confines of my own home that was a different story. I was big and that was not cute to me or anyone else for that matter.

  “Thanks,” I said with a nod to Barry and hope he was not looking at my butt jiggle when I passed by him.

  I quickly turned to check the clock and to get a glimpse of Barry’s eyes, no such luck. He was watching, but he was a known slut. That did not make me feel any better about myself.

  “Hey, girl. Looking good as always,” Shelly, my officemate, commented as I walked into our shared but split office.

  The room was portioned into three different spaces, separated by thick sheet rock, and locked doors with one main door. The furthest office was the Chair of the Departments, which rotated professors every two years. My office was in the middle since I served as the Executive Assistant to the Chair. Shelly’s office was the first anyone encountered when they walked inside the space. It included all of the student files, and her responsibilities included enrollment or if students needed a schedule change.

  My primary duties were managing the department and Chair’s calendar, organizing events for the Social Work Professors, and assisting the Adjunct Professors. There were plenty more but those took up the bulk of my time.

  “Thanks.” I replied to Shelly, unlocked my door and relieved my purse, placing it on the worn medium sized desk. “How was your weekend?”

  “I was tore up all weekend." Shelly answered with a gasp. "Me and Charles went to party after party and guess what?"

  She was waiting for me to jump up and down with my hands flailing in the air for her to tell me about her perfect boyfriend that was too good to be true. She had met Charles on-line, and according to the bible of Shelly, he was the perfect guy. A mere diamond in the rough is what she usually referred to him as on most days. When he was in town, which was every other month, he would take her out to lunch during the entire time of his stay. He seemingly adored her but something seemed off about him.

  "You're going to have to tell me?" I adjusted myself in the chair, cringing from the squeaky noise it made every time I moved in the cursed thing.

  "Girl, we were talking about furniture, and he said he wasn't going to get anymore until we got married and bought a house," she squealed. "He's never said anything about this before, and it was so matter-of-factly."

  I gazed up to see Shelly standing in my doorway with the biggest smile I had ever seen. She had been my office mate for three years. The woman was smart, quick, and a romantic at heart. Some days, I envied her because I used to be a dreamer until I realized romance would never find me. I was thirty-five years old and had worked my way up from office assistant to the Executive Assistant during my eleven years at the University. During that time, I utilized my tuition remission and obtained two master’s degrees in Social Work and Business Management. I also packed on almost one hundred pounds in the process. Therefore, I found myself to be a cynic and in some ways, cruel. This wasn't a self-reflection but what I'd been accused of doing each time romance was brought up in the conversation. I guess, internally, the thought was why give people a happily ever after, and I'd never have one. It was an unusual way to say fuck you to the world, but it was mine; and the more I did it, the more I embraced the sordid notion.

  Except in that moment.

  To crush Shelly's dreams of happily ever after would be vile. She was sweet and definitely a younger version of myself. Should she learn today and hate me or should she continue to get her feelings hurt countless times until there was nothing left but shreds of her heart?

  "That's great Shelly. When do you think he'll pop the question?" I asked sincerely.

  "I don't know, but I was so excited I had to share with someone," Shelly said with a huge smile on her face. "You're always such a good listener."

  I nodded my head and said, "Right. Well, congratulations. That's awesome."

  "I know, right!"

  Everybody that came into the office was told about this furniture story, so it was not as sacred as she tried to make it out to be. Most people just politely smiled and congratulated her, and others, specifically one more cynical than myself, said, "Wait until you jump over a broom before you start planning on what you're going to sweep with it."

  As expected, Shelly didn't like that comment and waved the person off.

  "They're just mad," she smirked but turned around to keep doing her work.

  I served as the Executive Assistant in the Social Work Department at Mekatown University. Shelly was the Executive Assistant for the school, and we mostly ran into students and other faculty members. One in particular was Dr. Devin Banks. The man was gorgeous. Despite the salt and pepper hairstyle that showed he was a little older in age, every woman, including the students, were interested in everything Banks.

  He was not the Academic Chair, since he had served a two-year term prior to me starting. Nevertheless, I sure wish he would run again because not only was he the most popular professor, but I would get to work with him directly.

  It was all a dream, of course, because a man like Dr. Banks was not interested in someone like me. This was not the beginning of my pity party; it was a pure fact. In my thirty-five years of living, I had been a chunky monkey, and for a long time, that's what most people called me. My mom and dad were both big-boned, but since they were athletes, their weight was muscula
r and not just flabby fat. They would poke fun at me sometimes about my weight. Comments like, 'we know you want dessert,' or 'boy, we know she can eat.' These things bothered me more than I would ever let people know. However, I guess I'd rather hear them say it out loud than to not hear them say it but know they were thinking it or worse, saying it behind my back. Shit, I was thinking it, so I knew they were.

  If home life was not bad enough, school life was worst, and there's no point in mentioning my personal life because that was non-existent. The kids teased me at school, and I often went to the library to eat my lunch while my head was buried in a book. I was definitely a reader since the worlds outside of my own were much more fascinating than the one I was born into.

  I went through my twenties trying this diet plan, that calorie plan, this personal trainer, to that do-it-yourself tummy tuck, eat only proteins, no carbohydrates, eat good oils, or no oils. I even contemplated talking to a witch doctor, well, a creepy guy who said he was a witch doctor, to see if he could cast a spell of will power for my weak soul. Then, I got scared because I believed in God. And if I opened the door to be tormented by Satan, I'd have bigger fish to fry than my weight.

  Once I hit my thirties, I stopped doing all of that shit. I resolved within myself that if I was going to lose the weight, it'd have to be a lifestyle change. Not a diet that I could break or even a frozen meal plan that I could throw away. Half of them tasted like cardboard anyway, which defeated the purpose of eating in my opinion.

  I was done.

  When I turned thirty-three, I bought my size twenty-six clothes and made sure I looked and smelled good all the time. It was the least that I could do. If people were going to judge me, then the one thing they could say besides she was fat was that she dressed nice and smelled. I would take that. I didn't really have much of a choice in the matter anymore.