His arrogance should’ve had me pulling off while I had the chance, finding a non-disappointing bed to hop into just to prove him wrong. But it was that arrogance of his that made him so fuckin’ attractive, enough to have me biting my lip while I tried to figure out my next move.
It would’ve been easy to do the usual, go back and forth just to get each other even more fired up. But then I remembered my earlier conclusion; the idea of doing “different”. And in this case, “different” meant being completely honest.
I glanced at my surroundings, thinking of how crazy the truth would sound once he read it. And even though I knew I was doing it in an effort to step completely out of my comfort zone, I still struggled to type and send, “I’m outside.”
My heart thumped through my ears as I waited for him to respond, waited for him to call me crazy or at least tell me to take my ass home. But instead of sending a text, he came right on out, standing on the porch as he looked up and down the street for my car before glancing down at his phone again.
“Where at?”- Chance
I didn’t respond, choosing to flash my lights at him to get his attention. And as I watched his usual confident strides towards my car, I felt myself growing uneasy, not having any plans on what to do next.
He made his way to the passenger’s side, waiting for me to unlock the door before he climbed in. And once he was inside, he wasted no time asking, “Londyn, what are you doing here?”
“Besides being an irrational bird?” I asked more to myself than him, unable to even look his way the longer I thought about what I had gotten myself into by just showing up. But instead of making me feel even sillier than I already felt for being here, he reached over and grabbed me by my chin, meeting my lips with a gentle kiss over the center console.
Then a second.
Then a third that he nipped at my bottom lip with.
And then a fourth that almost had me losing any and all logic before I could ask, “You didn’t kiss her, did you? I mean, I didn’t see you kiss her. But like, before that?”
His eyes were soft with amusement when he inquired, “You’ve been sitting out here this whole time?” Watching me nod before he asked, “Why didn’t you say anything, Londyn?”
“Because I shouldn’t be here,” I admitted, the vulnerability of it all leaving me completely unsettled.
Still, Chance attempted to make me feel a little better about it when he lifted my chin, meeting my eyes to reply, “But you are. And I’m happy to see you.”
“You sure weren’t acting too happy about anything me earlier…” I muttered as I averted my eyes, reminding him of the cold shoulder that should’ve kept me away.
But just as Khalid had explained, Chance was pretty much on the same wavelength when he asked, “What was I supposed to do? Play nice and get tied up in you even more than I already am?”
“Like headphones…”
“What?”
I shook my head, brushing off Khalid’s earlier analogy as I pushed out, “Nothing.” Then I turned in my seat to ask straight out, “Do you wanna, come over or something? We don’t even have to fuck. I just wanna… chill.”
The question was simple, but everything about it still felt weird and uncomfortable since just hanging out together had never been on our radar. But that’s what I wanted, and it seemed as if he was game with the way he grinned to say, “Because you like me.”
I refused to feed his ego off tops, rolling my eyes as I teased, “Because you aight.”
But when he hit me with a, “Yeah right” eyebrow, I couldn’t help but tell the truth, putting my hand on his knee as I said, “Because I like you, Chance. And that… has me trippin’. Obviously. But I don’t wanna fight it anymore. I just wanna… be, while we can. Whatever that means.”
Coming into this without a script had me saying things I wasn’t even sure I meant. But in the moment, it felt right. And since I was supposed to be doing just that, I let it fly, glad to see Chance’s smile grow even wider when he replied, “That’s all I was saying the other day, Londyn. But you started trippin’ on me like I was asking you to marry me or somethin’.”
“Okay. Are you and Khalid the same person or what?” I asked, watching the smile on his face fall flat since he had no idea what I was talking about.
In fact, the only thing he seemed to hear was Khalid’s name which had him growling, “What I tell you about that shit?”
“I’m sorry,” I said with a laugh, watching him give an annoyed shake of his head before he leaned in to tug at one of the curls that was hanging from my ponytail.
“Your hair smells good as fuck,” he said, leaning in even further for a full whiff.
His closeness to my ear was enough to have me squirming, but I still managed to inform him, “I just washed it.” Something I quickly learned wasn’t news at all when he replied, “I know. I saw it on your Snapchat.”
“So even though you were being mean, you were still checking for my moves?” I asked, my lips twisted and my eyebrow piqued with amusement.
He didn’t even bother trying to play it off when he answered, “Was tryna see what nigga had you out here making foolish decisions.”
“Should’ve looked in the mirror for the answer to that,” I told him with a smirk, knowing of all the things I had done when it came to men, this was easily the craziest.
But once again, Chance tried to make me feel better - or maybe make himself feel better - when he replied, “Nah, ain’t nothin’ foolish about me. And if there was, you wouldn’t have come over here.”
I nodded to agree. “This is true. But I still have questions.”
Chance released a heavy sigh as if he already knew what I was talking about, not even waiting for me to ask flat out before he explained, “I was coming over to have dinner with my mom and do some more work on the house, but she’s steady tryna set me up with Michelle. I was cordial, for my mother’s sake, and let her help me with a few things on the house since I’m using all the free help I can get. But that was it.”
“I saw you cheesin’ all in her face, Chance,” I told him, that fact telling me there was more to the story than just “mom made me do it”.
Instead of being straightforward like he had been before, he joked, “Man, you were really on some P.I. shit over here, weren’t you? All ducked off and what not.”
“Don’t try to change the subject,” I snapped, knowing any deterrence meant he was probably working on a cover-up lie in his head.
But instead of continuing to delay, he actually gave an alibi that made sense. “I smiled at the girl cause she made a joke about the cake my mom made her take home. The cake we both knew was dry as hell.”
I was more than familiar with Miss. Ellen’s dry ass cakes, just the thought of the grainy texture enough to have my throat clogging like I had ate a piece myself. And as I swallowed it down, I sang, “Mmhmm. I guess that’s a good enough of lie.”
“I’m serious, Londyn. I wouldn’t do you like that, even though you’d do me like that,” he replied, his voice growing quietly annoyed as if he had just remembered my earlier stunt.
Since we both knew it was just a tease now, I couldn’t help but grin when I asked, “Were you mad though? Be honest.”
His face twisted as he groaned, “Man, I already told you I was on your shit with a quickness, ready to do my own little detective work.”
Just the thought of him watching my Snapchat story for clues made me giggle, the fact that we were both out here pressed as hell allowing me to tell him, “If all this crazy shit is what “like” looks like, I don’t know if I want it.”
To be honest, the whole thing had me wondering if I had ever really “liked” anyone before, everything about this feeling so much different than the norm, so much more… potent. But it felt right, and it felt good, and even if I knew it wasn’t forever, I was going to enjoy the now. And according to Chance, that was truly my only option anyway once he replied, “Well I hate to be the one to break it to you, but you ain’t
got a choice.”
Chance
“I can’t believe this wine really got me buzzin’.”
I glanced at the glass in my hand as if it was going to explain itself, my eyes already sitting low like I had been drinking something much stronger. But no, it was only Londyn’s girly ass red wine that had me tipsy - and lowkey feeling lusty as hell - as she leaned in to gush, “So good, right? A grown-up buzz for a grown ass man who should’ve left those awful beer cans back in college.”
“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with a Bud Light,” I told her, a cold six-pack my go-to on game day for any sport.
But Londyn made it sound like the worst thing in the world when she corrected, “Everything is wrong with a Bud Light. Bud Light screams… white frat boy who makes lowkey racist jokes expecting you to laugh. Not fine, brown specimen with a good paying job.”
“I am a fine brown specimen with a good paying job, huh?” I asked with a wink that was probably more of a slow blink considering how buzzed I was.
Still, it managed to have the same effect as Londyn blushed when she agreed, “You are. So drink up.”
I did exactly what she asked, taking the sip while also trying to figure out how we had gotten to this point in such a short span of time; going from straight up beefin’ to chillin’ with each other on some casual shit like we had done it a thousand times. But I suppose that was part of what made our situation so unique, the fact that we were so comfortable around each other thanks to our history even if we were seeing each other in a different light.
A better light.
“Man, quit tryna get me drunk so I wanna fuck you. We’re not on that, remember?” I asked teasingly, taking another sip that would probably have me wanting to go balls deep by the end of the night.
I shouldn’t have been surprised to hear Londyn play right into that theory when she replied, “Who said that? I didn’t say that. I said, we don’t even have to. Meaning if we don’t, we don’t, but we can definitely do.”
“Well we ain’t. So what you tryna do instead?”
She looked around her living room before suggesting, “How about I whoop your ass in Mario Kart?”
A hearty laugh immediately slipped out in response. Not because I thought it was a bad idea, but because she was out of her mind thinking she could beat me in anything. In fact, I couldn’t help but tease, “Girl, you must already be drunk. Cause you damn sure can’t whoop my ass in any game you have.”
“Wanna bet?” she asked with a confident grin, moving from the couch towards the systems she had hidden in the cabinets under her television stand.
I bit my lip as I watched her maneuver around on the floor, the little ass shorts she had on giving me a thousand and one ideas when I asked, “What you got worth betting?”
As if she could read my mind, she peeked back over her shoulder to answer, “Every time I win, you gotta take something off. And if you win - you won’t, but… - if you win, I’ll do the same.”
“Which will eventually get you what you wanted all along. You ain’t slick, Londyn,” I told her with a laugh, even though I was definitely down for some strip-gaming.
“It’ll be fun though,” she quickly defended, tossing a controller at me before she took the seat next to me on the couch.
She was already getting the game set up on the screen as I teased, “Might as well start taking off your clothes now.” My words enough to make her stop what she was doing to reply with a serious face, “I can and I will. Fuck this game.”
No matter how tempting her offer was, I used her own little line against her when I leaned into her shoulder and mocked, “It’ll be fun, remember?”
Instead of agreeing, she rolled her eyes before pulling them back to the screen to finish getting us all set up. And after we picked our characters - of course her ass had to be Princess Peach -, we got after it, our first round on the track ending in a… victory for her? What the hell?
“Take it off, babe,” she sang, her lip pulled between her teeth as she waited for me to get rid of some piece of clothing.
I couldn’t move right away, too distracted by her word choice when I told her, “Here you go with that babe shit. You know what it does to me.”
“I sure do. So you still wanna keep playing?” she asked, already trying to drop out early to get her way.
But instead of doing just that, I got rid of my hoodie, setting it next to me before telling her, “Yep. Let me get you naked first.”
To my surprise, that response seemed to satisfy her as we started a second round. And while I was completely focused on not losing anymore, it still happened, Londyn’s character swooping right in front of me in the last few seconds.
“Fuck,” I hissed, smacking my controller on the couch in frustration like a sore loser.
Of course, Londyn rubbed it right in, laughing at my pain as she gushed, “Wow. You’re making this too easy, babe.”
“Londyn…” I groaned, my annoyance with myself colliding with my growing appetite for her.
Once again, she tried to take the opportunity to drop out early, suggesting with a smirk, “We can be done with this, Chance.”
“Nah, it’s personal now,” I told her, yanking off my t-shirt and getting a whistle of a reaction which meant Londyn really thought she was running shit.
I couldn’t go out like that.
Sitting at the edge of the couch, I was all in as we started the next round, hyperfocused on doing whatever I had to do to not be the only one getting rid of my clothes. And thankfully, I came out on top, crossing the finish line before telling her, “A nigga done almost sobered up fuckin’ around with your competitive ass. Now take that shit off.”
“All of it?” she asked, her eyebrow piqued as she offered another out.
But the fact that I was still down two to one was enough for me to tell her, “Just the shirt.” Watching her do it slow and seductively as I teased, “Mmhm. Piercing poppin’ through your bra. I see you, baby.”
She giggled, tossing a hand my way before picking up her controller to start our next bout. And now that I had gotten one victory under my belt, I was in the zone, dusting Londyn’s ass with ease.
“Damnit!” she shouted, clearly as frustrated as I had been in the beginning.
Now that the tables were turned, I rubbed it in the same way she had, pouting my lips when I teased, “Aww. So sad. Little LoLo racking up L’s left and right.”
She rolled her eyes before standing up to take off the shorts she had been taunting me with all night, leaving her in just her bra and panties. And while the sight was damn near perfection, it also prompted me to tell her, “You ain’t got enough clothes on to play this game.”
“I have plenty. And the rest are staying on,” she replied with enough attitude to make me laugh; the fact that we were now tied obviously getting to her. But instead of saying anything more, she started up another round, completely focused until she finally got a win that I may or may not have let her get.
Nah, she really whooped my ass fair and square.
“Yeah, mothafucka! Those jeans are mine!” she shouted, standing up to do a little dance that had me cracking up as I stood up to pull my jeans off. Then she looked me up and down, back in her bag when she said, “Socks and boxers. What a look. Fashion icon.”
“Says the fine ass chick stuck in her bra and panties,” I reminded her with a look of my own; an appreciative slow gaze that had her biting her lip by the time I made it to her face.
But just as quickly as she had gotten me caught up, ready to drop out the same way she had been earlier, she plopped back down on the couch to reply, “Fine ass chick in her bra and panties who’s about to get this dub and your socks.”
“Not so fast, little mama,” I told her, resuming my seat next to her before we started another round. And while the race was a tight one, I still managed to edge her out in the end.
“Shit, shit, shit!” she screeched, her face pulled into a scowl as if she was mad at herself for losing.
“You got some single bills? Maybe you’ll feel better if I throw a few at you while you take your clothes off,” I taunted, leaning back against the couch to prepare for the show. And when she stood up, I just knew she was going to make it good for me until, instead of going for her undergarments, she pulled her hair from the ponytail it was in and tossed the holder at me.
“Man, you cheatin’! A ponytail holder is not an article of clothing!” I whined, holding it up in disbelief since it should’ve been her damn panties.
But I shouldn’t have been surprised to learn her ass wasn’t going to play fair, a sneaky grin on her face as she defended, “Says who? I didn’t see that listed in the rulebook. The only rule was that I’d have to take something off.”
“Wowww. Aight, bet. It don’t even matter cause I’m about to win again,” I told her, determined to get her exactly how I wanted her now that she was trying to finesse me. But just because that was how I wanted it to go didn’t mean it was actually going to happen, Londyn’s little princess getting an easy victory that had the most arrogant smirk sitting on her face.
She didn’t even look at me, just stuck her hand out to demand, “Socks, please.”
“Nah, I want my socks. You can have these,” I told her, standing up right in front of her before stepping out of my boxers.
My dick almost hit her in the chin the way it leaped right on out, the wine and excitement of our little competition shooting right to the tip. And I was glad to see that usual glow in Londyn’s eyes as she stared at it while asking, “Chance, how am I supposed to focus on the game with your dick all out?”
“Who said I want you to focus on the game with my dick all out?” I asked her, the combination of her half-naked body and my mostly-tipsy state taking over now that I had lost almost all of my clothes.
But Londyn seemed ready regardless, licking her lips before confirming, “You know this means I won, right?”
I shrugged, pulling her up from the couch and into my arms as I replied, “A win for you is really a win for us.”
She giggled as I bent my head to kiss her neck, my dick poking her in the belly when she insisted, “Don’t try to get on the bandwagon now, bruh. I won all by myself.”
The Games We Play Page 12
