Something Like Love (Serendipitous Love Book 6)

by Christina C Jones

  I stood up, and began to pace through the class, taking a moment to touch each person on the shoulder. A light, brief touch, just enough to form that human connection.

  “Seriously. How? Close your eyes. Ponder that as we train our bodies, and work through today’s session. Deep breath in, through your nose,” I said, touching my friend Sydnee on the shoulder as I passed her. She opened her eyes just enough to cut them at me, but I smiled. “And, out, through your mouth. As we transition through these poses, I want you to focus on self, on body. Every movement is mindful. Every action has a purpose, and an effect on your mind and body. Deep breath in through your nose.”

  I touched a few more people, indulging myself in a little smile as I made my way to the back of the class, to the person who’d been last to come in. I put my hands on his wide, beautifully toned shoulders, cringing at the tension I felt underneath my fingertips.

  “Relax,” I whispered, bending a bit to speak into his ear. He shrugged me away from him, and I obliged that, standing up.

  “Release that breath, through your mouth. Imagine that you are pushing out everything, except those things that edify your spirit. Breathe in through your nose again, and you are pulling in wisdom, and understanding. Push that breath out,” I instructed, making my way back to the front of the class. “And with it, other people’s problems, other people’s mess.”

  I sat down in front of the class, returning to my meditation position. “Open your eyes. For the next forty-five minutes, it’s just me, you, this yoga mat, and your mess. Today we own it.”

  I let the tiniest hint of a smile drift onto my face as I locked eyes with Eddie, seated all the way at the back of the class. He was damn near glaring at me, but not even an unpleasant expression made him unpleasant to look at.

  I’d been a fan of his locs – an earthy, organic feature on a man who was anything but that. They were always impeccable, but had still given an edge to his otherwise obvious vanity – a trait that somehow, wasn’t a turn off. I mean… he was gorgeous. Deep chocolate skin, lush facial hair that was always neatly trimmed, full lips. That “negro nose” that Beyonce was talking about, with a little dent on top like maybe it had been broken… a slight flaw that made it perfect.

  His new haircut just made him… more clean cut.

  And God help me – “clean cut” was not my thing. But Eddie… was.

  I broke the eye contact before it got weird, taking the chance to look around at the class instead. “Place your right fingertips on that mat beside you. Let’s go.”

  &

  “I can say, without reservation that I never, ever expected to see you here.”

  Instead of looking up, Eddie kept on rolling up his mat, but I stepped in front of him, giving him no choice except to look at me as he straightened up. He was slim, but not skinny, with a muscular build and opulent, dark chocolate skin that had always, always called to me.

  And the ink… his strong, sinewy arms were covered with it, from wrist to shoulders. And I knew from seeing him playing shirtless basketball in the park, that they extended over his chest too.

  They were beautiful.

  He was beautiful.

  “Are you really going to ignore me? You brought your stiff, agitated body into my studio, but you’re leaving looser… refreshed. I helped you, yet you can’t even acknowledge me?” I asked, taking note of the way his eyes followed my motions as I crossed my arms under my breasts, which held his attention for a full second before he brought his gaze up, wearing a scornful expression.

  His lip curled at the corner, and his deep brown eyes settled on my face. “Hello, Astrid.”

  “Hello, Eddie,” I replied, in a pleasant chirp that made him shake his head.

  “What makes you think you’ve helped me?” he asked, looping the straps of his mat and gym bag on his shoulder, then pushing his hands into the pockets of his basketball shorts.

  I shrugged. “Your relaxed shoulders and restored energy. You’re welcome.”

  “You’re imagining things.”

  A little smile crossed my face, and I let it grow wider at his obvious discomfort. “Answer something for me,” I said, nodding at the students as they left the studio. “Why do you dislike me so much? What have I ever done to you?”

  “Your third eye should tell you.”

  I turned away a little to laugh, running my tongue over my teeth before I brought my eyes back to his. “Funny, but that’s not really my philosophy. So… just tell me. What is it, huh?”

  He narrowed his eyes at me, staring for a second as my eyebrow crept up. I was really waiting for an answer, but he shook his head. “I don’t have time for this. I have somewhere to be.”

  “Just as I suspected.” I stepped back, giving him room to get around me. “You don’t even have one. Careful, or I’m going to start thinking you just don’t like me because you want me so bad. Well… I already think that, but you’re confirming it for me.”

  He seemed taken aback by my assessment, reacting to it with wide eyes and parted lips, but a second later, he’d pulled it together again. “Delusional, like I said.”

  “I’m rarely wrong about a vibe.”

  “Whatever you say, Asteroid.”

  I grinned at his back as he headed out of the studio. “It’s Astrid, but you already know that. Why’d you come to my studio if you dislike me so much, huh?”

  He paused by the door to turn in my direction. “I didn’t know it was your studio. Kim was in my shop a few weeks ago getting inked, and mentioned the class. I came to check it out, and actually liked it. I had no idea I was going to have to see you, but now that I know… it’s a wrap.”

  “What? No,” I insisted, taking a few steps forward. “Kim will be back next session. Please don’t stay away on account of me.”

  “Yeah, we’ll see,” he said, not even glancing backward as he left me standing there like a fool. I was glad everyone else had left, mitigating the embarrassment of there being a witness to me practically begging a man to do… anything.

  I wasn’t above making my interest in a man known, not at all. Actually, that was exactly the type of boldness I encouraged. But I was definitely above seeming thirsty, pursuing a man who was so obviously disinterested. With Eddie though… there was just something.

  Something… magnetic.

  Agitator was a role I usually had no desire to play, but with him, I had nothing against purposely getting under his skin. And it wasn’t as if it was hard – my simple presence seemed to serve as a source of frustration for him, and I simply… didn’t get it.

  What was it about me that he found so repulsive?

  And why did his obvious disdain spur my interest so?

  &

  I loved how love looked on my friends.

  I didn’t even bother trying not to smile at the way Sydnee’s whole face lit up when Harlan approached her from behind, wrapping his arms around her waist to pull her close. We were in Stacks, her family’s restaurant, talking. I was at the bar, she was on the other side of the counter, and the grin that spread over her mouth when she felt him approach rivaled the sun.

  The sparkly new engagement ring on her finger had plenty to do with that.

  “How you doin’ Astrid?” he asked me, in that slight southern twang he’d managed to keep over the years.

  I grinned. “With all the love you two are putting off, I am doing just fine,” I told him, making both of them smile before Jamar stepped around them with a plate – my plate – in his hand.

  “Order up, Pretty,” he said as he placed it down in front of me with his usual flirtatious wink. It smelled amazing, and I told him so, which spurred a smile full of even white teeth. “Come on, you know I always hook you up right… which is why I don’t understand why you won’t… let me hook you up right.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Thank you for my veggie scramble,” I said, ignoring the rest. While I appreciated his cooking skills, and had no problem believing his bedroom skills matched, I had no
interest in becoming part of Jamar’s harem.

  My plate and I moved from the bar to a booth, leaving Sydnee with Harlan and Jamar with the grill. I’d been so busy with classes all morning, and then meeting with design clients in the afternoon that I hadn’t had a real meal all day, not since my smoothie. I was exhausted, and my body was aching. As soon as I finished my food, I paid – well, left a ten-dollar bill by the register, despite Sydnee’s insistence that I didn’t owe anything – and headed back for my apartment.

  I was halfway there when my cell phone started buzzing, and I grinned at the name on the screen when I pulled it out. There was no hesitation to answer the call, and I was still smiling when I raised the device to my ear.

  “Hey superstar,” I sang into the speaker, and on the other end of the line, Aurielle – my little sister by less than a year – laughed.

  “I could’ve sworn I told you to stop calling me that, heifer.”

  Stopping at a crosswalk, I glanced both ways, and then continued on. “Sorry sis. Hard habit to break. And I mean… you are an international superstar, so it’s not as if it isn’t true.”

  “Eh,” she responded. “Maybe not so much anymore.”

  Hmm.

  That was true.

  After controversy a year ago – controversy was such a polite way to refer to being horrifically assaulted and left on a hotel room floor by a megastar rapper who’d faced zero consequences because there was no “proof” he’d done it – she’d made a major shift away from her “pop princess” sound, and the music industry lifestyle. She was still a star, obviously, just… less auto tune and more acoustic guitar, now that she was back to making music.

  “Anyway, how are you?” I asked, nodding to a woman I recognized from one of my classes as she passed. “You being good? Where is tonight’s show again? Miami, right?”

  “Right.” I could hear the smile in her voice, the happiness that I’d remembered. “I go on in like twenty minutes, but I snuck off to call you.”

  I stopped walking. “Seriously? Why? Is everything okay?”

  “Yes,” she answered quickly. “I’m just… a little stressed. You’ve seen the show reviews, right?”

  I closed my eyes. Of course I’d seen them. Bullshit, self-fellating hit pieces masquerading as quality critique, from some of the same publications that had been merciless about her attack, and addiction. “Screw them,” I told her. “Don’t worry about that. You know what the ticket sales have been. Know what your fans think. You’ve seen the Instagram captions with your new lyrics, seen the hordes of black women talking about how they’ve been inspired by your shift. Tune it out, Auri.”

  “Yes, I’ve seen all of that, but it doesn’t make the claims that this is all contrived, that I’m just trying to fix my image, that this isn’t the real me… it doesn’t make it hurt less.”

  I nodded, as if she could see me. “No, it doesn’t… but it should make the fact that you sold out all your mini-tour dates within a week of announcing them, and that your album already has critical acclaim, despite the naysayers, even sweeter. Tune it out. Have you done your breathing exercises yet?”

  “Not yet,” she sighed. “Going to do it once we get off the phone.”

  “Good. Where is Donnie? He should be helping talk you down from this.”

  She let out a little snort that raised my eyebrows. “Who knows?”

  “I thought he was supposed to be with you for the whole first half of your tour dates?”

  “Yeah, so did I. But he went out drinking with some homeboys he knows around here last night, and then didn’t get up to come to rehearsals with me this morning. I haven’t seen him since I left the hotel, and I’m not trying to.”

  Uh-oh.

  “Okay, well, anyway,” I said, not wanting to dwell on what was obviously a sore subject. I reached my building, and keyed in the code to get in the front door then slipped inside. “Your fans are there. They’re ready to see you. Your album has only been out a week, and they already know the words. They love you, and I love you. You’re going to be fine.”

  “I know. I know,” she repeated, with a little more conviction. “Okay. Kev is signaling that I’ve gotta get into place, so I have to let you go. Thanks for the pep talk sis. I love you too.”

  I grinned as I dug into the bag hooked over my shoulder for my keys. “Anytime. Go out there and slay tonight.”

  “Will do.”

  I located my keys as we ended the call, and then I went inside, locking the door behind me. I pressed my back, and then my head into it, letting it support my weight as I let out a heavy sigh that had nothing to do with the phone call. I was just honest to goodness tired.

  But my day wasn’t over.

  I settled at my computer with another smoothie and a full to-do list for my design business. I loved – loved – both of the things I did, enough that very often, neither felt like a job. On other days, however, I would rather have just curled up in a warm spot to sleep.

  Today was one of those.

  But we press on.

  I spent a few more hours picking up where I’d left off at my office, then headed to the shower. Not even for the purpose of getting clean, since I’d already showered after my last yoga session for the day. I just wanted the hot water on my aching muscles.

  By the time I climbed into bed, I was beyond ready to be there, and it felt like it was welcoming me with open arms. I closed my eyes and settled into my pillows, but instead of finding sleep, I found…

  My eyes popped open, and I pushed out a sigh as I stared up at the ceiling. I’d been so busy since this morning’s encounter with him that I hadn’t had to work very hard to keep him off my mind. Now, apparently, that wasn’t the case.

  Edison Ware.

  When I’d seen that name on Kim’s attendance sheet, it hadn’t rung a single bell. With “Eddie”, my brain had apparently run away with the assumption that it was a shortened version of “Edward”.

  Edison was more fitting for a man like him.

  A man like him.

  What the hell did that even mean, a man like him?

  I didn’t even know him, not really, and from the little I did know, the man was repulsed by me. So for the second time that day, I was wondering again, why on earth did he keep coming to mind?

  I fell asleep with that question on my brain, and when I woke up the next morning… I unfortunately still didn’t have an answer. But it was Friday, which meant the weekend was coming, which meant I had things to do.

  I was too busy to let him occupy my headspace.

  &

  “Just this once… let’s take sides.

  Pride…aside.

  Feelings… aside.

  Inhibitions… outside.

  Worries… wayside.

  Protection… bedside.

  Panties… aside.

  You… inside.

  Camera phone?

  Make sure you get my good side… alright?

  Don’t be scared to turn me sideways and get deeper… alright?

  Ain’t nothing wrong with a good firm grip on my backside… alright?

  I know it’s good, but stay focused, don’t get sidetracked… alright?

  Alright.

  You want to turn it over, flip it over, that’s okay, cause I’m flexible like that.

  I know it’s pretty, but stay focused… don’t get sidetracked.

  Take me higher, take me higher, don’t let the pressure subside.

  You getting tired?

  Tap me in from the ringside, let me take you for a little…ride.

  Come back inside.

  I won’t let that pressure subside.

  Come… inside.”

  I stepped away from the mic at Urban Grind, and smiled at the crowd as they applauded my sharing of the random piece I’d jotted down in my journal between yoga sessions that morning. It hadn’t been written with any intention of sharing – it wasn’t polished, not by my standards, but getting up on stage had accomplished
my goal of helping burn off some of the anxious energy that had been plaguing me all day without cause.

  At least, not one I could see.

  “Daaaamn.” I laughed as I heard Roman’s voice on the mic, and a moment later, he was up on the stage with me, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. “Really, Astrid? You say you want to get in on the open mic, and this is what you do? Get up here and get everybody hot and bothered?” he asked, and I covered my face with my hands.

  It wasn’t that I was embarrassed – not exactly. I mean… getting up on stage to say it, having all eyes on me, hadn’t elicited any shyness at all, but somehow, having it pointed out made me feel the teensiest bit exposed.

  “Did that have a name?” he asked, and I shrugged.

  “Uh… I guess I would call it… “Take Sides?””

  He nodded. “Aiight people, that concludes tonight’s open mic. Let’s give Astrid another hand for “Take Sides”.

  I gave a little wave as I got another round of applause. Whistles from the crowd got my attention, and I grinned as I spotted my little crew in the back corner cheering for me like I’d just gotten a diploma. I shook my head at their antics, and as I turned away, a different familiar face in the crowd caught my eyes.

  He was with his own little crew, people who I didn’t really know well, but recognized from his tattoo shop, and around town. He was sitting at the end of one of the high-backed, semi-circle benches with his legs wide open, one muscled arm spread across the back of the seat. His other hand was holding a glass of something dark in mid-air, like he couldn’t decide if he was drinking or putting it down. The deep, dark drown pools of his eyes were trained directly on me.

  Staring.

  Drinking me in.

  Paralyzing me.

  I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until Roman touched my shoulder to usher me off the stage. As the air rushed from my lungs, I glanced back to where Eddie was, only to find him with a smile on his face as he spoke animatedly with the man next to him about something, paying exactly zero attention to me.