The Lessons We Learn (FWB Book 2)

by Alexandra Warren

  I suppose she had gotten enough fuel to finally admit, “I needed a fresh start, in a lot of ways. So when this job opening came up, I figured it was a sign to pull the trigger and do just that.”

  “Because of the divorce?”

  She nodded. “That and other things. Personal things.”

  Now it was me nodding, catching her hint that it was her business to tell if and when she ever became ready. So I didn’t press, simply replying, “I got you. I was just asking so I know you won’t get me all tied up in this shit just to leave me hanging for the next opportunity. You know, making sure this ain’t just some pit stop for you.”

  The last thing I wanted to happen was for me to start relying on the extra income only to have the rug pulled from up under me when Jayla moved onto something better. But she did her best to put me at ease about it when she replied, “Khalid, I’ve only been here for like, two months, and my last few boxes are just now getting unpacked thanks to my little sister. Moving is way too much work for me to be ready to skip town again already. And besides, I kinda like it here.”

  “Why?” I asked, my face scrunched since the sentiment - someone actually liking it here - was foreign as hell.

  Not that the town was completely awful. But it was definitely an acquired taste - an acquired vibe; something that Jayla was apparently already fond of when she listed, “Well mainly because I love my job. But I also appreciate the small town, community feel, and people not knowing who I am until I want them to since I’m new. And all the people I’ve met have been really nice, really welcoming. You included.”

  “Well when you throw me into the equation, it does start to make sense,” I teased arrogantly, making her laugh before she snuck another sip of her wine. But once she sat her glass down, I could tell there was something more on her mind that I encouraged her to share with a simple, “What is it?”

  “You’re asking me why I’m here like someone of your caliber should be here instead of… Los Angeles or something. So tell me. How Sway?”

  I couldn’t help but snicker at her Kanye reference, though the question made me almost as uncomfortable as Sway was during the interview she was referring to since it required some reflecting. But if I was going to be doing business with Jayla, I figured she deserved the truth.

  So instead of trying to craft some perfect response, I gave her the real, releasing a heavy breath before I started, “To be completely honest, this was just a good place to find my way. Cost of living was affordable, finding decent jobs that didn’t require a college degree was never too hard, and I knew I didn’t want to move back home after I dropped out so… I ended up here. An hour away from where I went to school.”

  I shouldn’t have been surprised when her first follow-up question was, “Why did you drop out?”

  For a second I considered hitting her with the same “personal” line she had used on me earlier. But from the look in her eyes, I could tell her interest was coming from a genuine place; not just because she was investing some time into this new venture of ours.

  She legitimately wanted to get to know me. And even if she wasn’t ready to be as open, I had no problem leading the way when I answered, “Originally, because I wanted to do music. But looking back, I don’t think school was ever for me to begin with. Stuck around a little longer than I needed to cause Londyn talked me into staying an extra semester, but it wasn’t really my thing.”

  “So what happened to your music career then?” she asked, leaning even further into the table as if my story was really that damn intriguing. And maybe it was to someone like her; someone who had obviously taken the most straightforward corporate ladder track instead of jumping headfirst into the unpredictable waters of being an artist like I had.

  Thinking back on those days, I couldn’t help but smirk when I replied, “Shit low-key popped for a little bit around here locally; got a few radio plays, did a few shows. But I don’t think I was ever really passionate about music. It was just something a few of the homies talked me into doing cause I was decent at it and that school shit was for the birds. I guess I just thought the lifestyle might be dope, and it was fun for a minute. But once those expenses started adding up faster than my little warehouse job at the time could afford, shit wasn’t so fun anymore.”

  She nodded in understanding, following up with yet another question. “So how’d you end up working security then?”

  “Finally somethin’ simple,” I thought as I answered, “Londyn put me on.”

  “Sounds like Londyn is… very important to you,” she replied, eying me suspiciously over her glass before taking another sip of her wine.

  I already knew what the look was about. In fact, it was the same look I had gotten over the years from any woman I called myself showing interest in after they learned about my friendship with Londyn. But just like with them, I had no problem being completely honest about it when I agreed, “Yeah, that’s my dog. My ace boon coon. My A1 since day one.”

  “But you two never actually dated?”

  I shook my head. “Nah, it’s not like that with us. I mean, we vibed for a little bit early on back in college, but we’re better as friends. The best of friends.”

  “And how does your girlfriend feel about that?”

  The question caught me way off-guard since…, “My girlfriend? I don’t have a girlfriend, Jayla.”

  As if she didn’t believe me, she reasoned, “But the other day, your caption on Instagram said something about shorty showing up to the basketball court.”

  I quickly brushed her off with a laugh. “Aw, nah. That was just a joke. More about creating the fantasy that any of my followers could be “shorty”, you know?”

  It may have sounded silly, but the game was the game. And if the number of women who hopped in my DMs in response to that post said anything, it was that the game still worked like a charm. But instead of agreeing with me right away, Jayla just stared at me with a look of marvel in her eyes. A look I didn’t quite understand until she let out an astonished, “Wow. You were really made for this.”

  “I’m glad you think so, shorty,” I replied with a wink, catching the amused smirk on her face before she took another sip of her wine.

  She swallowed hard, then sat her glass down with a little point my way when she said, “I see what you did there. Clever. I like it.”

  “Well you didn’t have to say anything for me to already know that. It’s all in the way you’re still over there blushing, Mrs. Anthony,” I teased, expecting her to giggle right along with me since I was clearly on her good side.

  She didn’t. Only offered me a scowl when she groaned, “Ugh. Not anymore.” Before downing the rest of her wine; an action that confused me until I realized the little slip-up I had made with her name.

  The way it immediately elicited that sort of reaction had me wanting to question her the same way she had done to me. But then I remembered her little “personal” line again and decided not to press my luck, choosing something more surface level once I asked, “Damn. It’s that bad, huh?”

  She shrugged, gnawing on her lip as she pushed out, “Not as bad anymore, but still bad.”

  What “not as bad” looked like, I wasn’t sure. But considering the Jayla I knew, I felt confident reaching across the table to grab her hand and express, “Well if it means anything to you, whoever Mr. Anthony is is a lame ass mothafucka who ain’t deserve you no way.”

  My words made her blushing come back as she first looked down at our connected hands then brought her eyes up to me, the softness in her expression giving me those pesky ass moths in my stomach again. But just when I thought the possibility of an “us” wasn’t trashed after all, she gave my hand an innocent squeeze before dropping it on the table, putting me back in my place with ease when she replied, “I’m glad you think so, Khalid. Now let’s get to this money.”

  Jayla

  “How was your dinner with my Man Crush Monday?”

  The front door wasn’t even closed be
fore Jamila was throwing that question at me from the couch; the answer not as clear and simple as I would’ve liked since there was a lot more to Khalid than I realized, a lot more that intrigued me in ways beyond business.

  His entire vibe was just… attractive. His honesty, his openness about his past, even the way he held his glass screamed a special kind of masculine confidence without having to be hard. But considering the fact that mixing business with pleasure was an absolute no-no, I was forced to put things back into perspective for the both of us, doing my best to make that clear while somehow also being the one to blur the lines by getting all up in his personal business.

  “Do better, Jayla.” I thought to myself, pulling my heels off at the door as I plainly answered, “Dinner was fine. Business as usual.”

  Of course she wasn’t taking that for an answer, waiting for me to join her on the couch before she asked, “Well on a scale from annoying faucet drip to broken levee, how wet are your panties? Cause me personally? I’d be on some once in a lifetime rainstorm shit after spending the evening with a man like that. I mean, does he smell as good as he looks? You know good cologne goes straight to the...”

  Cutting into her obvious excitement, I interrupted by asking, “Will you chill? Khalid and I were meeting about business. Not for… rainstorm vaginas.”

  Instead of accepting that as a sufficient answer - one that wasn’t completely true since being around Khalid had definitely… affected me down below -, Jamila only leaned in further to question, “Okay, but what did he think about this dress I picked out for you though? Could he take his eyes off you? Did he have to adjust in his seat on sight? Or did you really waste all of your good, feminine juice on Jason’s lame ass?”

  It was the second, unnecessary mention of Jason tonight that made me snap, “Why does that matter? I wasn’t wearing this for his opinion. I wore it because it made me look and feel good.”

  And that was the truth.

  Dressing in something that made me feel confident was a staple of all my successful business meetings. Though Jamila still wasn’t quite convinced, her lips twisted when she challenged, “Made you look and feel good for a business meeting with the finest nigga in this city when you could’ve easily worn a suit for that same purpose. You knew what you were doing, sis. Bad bitch status was fully activated with this one.”

  Instead of agreeing, I only rolled my eyes. “Anyway. When are you going back home?”

  It wasn’t that I hated having my sister as company. In fact, I welcomed her presence after spending so much time alone since the move and divorce. But then there were times like now where I wished I could decompress on my own, a concept that was threatened when Jamila answered, “Never. I just got the call back about a job interview I went to the other day.”

  Now I was the overly-excited one, snapping my head back to repeat, “A job interview?! What kind of job?! Why didn’t I know about this? And where the hell are you going to live?”

  “If you’d just relax, I could tell you,” she replied with a roll of her eyes, waiting for me to calm down before she started, “So before I came out here, a fashion buying internship with a local lingerie company came open. I wasn’t really looking for an internship since I already did one back in college, but it was one of the few paid ones I’ve seen and I love a good lingerie set, so I thought I’d check it out and pay you a visit. You know, kill two birds with one stone.”

  The convincing smirk she put on made me side-eye her as she continued, “When I went to the interview, they loved me. Obviously. So instead of offering me the internship, they offered me a real position as an assistant fashion buyer.”

  Her explanation left me grinning from ear-to-ear now that I knew the entire story, feeling especially proud when I asked, “So this trip wasn’t just about mom getting on your nerves? You actually came here with an agenda. A responsible, adult-like agenda.”

  Instead of embracing my enthusiasm, she played it down, putting a hand to my shoulder to suggest, “Remember that chill you asked me about earlier? Find some, please.”

  “But I’m just so excited for you!” I gushed, taking it up a notch by squeezing her neck in a hug that didn’t last long since she immediately started to fight me off of her in response. And once I finally let her go, I was sure to mention, “You still haven’t answered my question about your living arrangements though...”

  Keeping her responsible streak alive, she grabbed her laptop from the coffee table to show me the tabs of her internet browser while explaining, “I’ve been looking at some places online, but I won’t be able to actually visit them until Monday during business hours. So if you could spare me at least another week…”

  “For this? Oh, absolutely!” I squealed, damn near ready to call out for the week just to help her expedite the process. But for now, I couldn’t stop smiling, feeling giddy as hell when I muttered, “My little sister is finally leaving the nest for real, for real. Never thought this day would come.”

  I was really just thinking out loud, but that didn’t stop Jamila from responding, “Have you met your mother? I no longer had a choice. It was truly a do or die situation.”

  While I couldn’t help but giggle at that since I knew the circumstances all too well, I was also curious enough to ask, “Why here though? I’m sure you could’ve found a similar opportunity in the city if you tried.”

  The way she shrugged and gnawed at her lip looked all too familiar, reminding me that while we might’ve had different fathers, we still shared our mother’s blood. And with that, I could only smirk as I listened to her explain, “I guess after seeing the success of your move, I thought a fresh start might be good for me too. I mean, this seems like a pretty good place to live, a good place to find my way. And you’re here, so I won’t be completely alone.”

  The fact that the move my mother considered a huge mistake was something Jamila viewed as a success brought me a special kind of warmth; a feeling I didn’t even realize I was craving until she delivered it through her words. And it wasn’t only that, but the way her perspective sounded so incredibly similar to Khalid’s from dinner; him finding his way in this town something I knew would happen for my little sister in due time.

  This time, she didn’t fight me when I wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer to me when I gushed, “Listen to you. I could just cry right now.”

  “Or… we could go out and celebrate the good news,” she suggested from under my arm, the tone of her voice telling me this was on her mind long before I made it home.

  In fact..., “You’re already dressed under this robe, aren’t you?”

  As if to answer my question, she busted out of the robe she had slowly stolen from me over the span of her visit to unveil some barely-there dress she already had on, grinning when she finally replied, “I was really just waiting for you to get back.” Then she stood up from the couch to adjust the hem while admitting, “And I might have seen my MCM on Instagram at this little club not too far from here.”

  “Jamila, you were creeping on Khalid’s Instagram?” I asked with a scowl, her interest in him amusing and annoying all at once.

  Amusing since I now knew the different ways he played into said interest.

  Annoying since I shouldn’t have been even remotely interested in the same person as my little sister.

  Of course there was no shame in her game when she defended, “It’s not creeping! He wouldn’t have posted it if he didn’t want me and my internet sister-wives to watch.”

  My face scrunched as I ran her words back in my head, quickly deciding there was no use in addressing the specifics once I replied, “You are… something else.”

  She easily brushed it off, getting back to her original point when she asked, “So, are we rollin’ or nah? I just need to put my shoes on.”

  For a second, I thought about turning her down, my dinner with Khalid plenty to sit on without having to face him again any time soon. But the news of my sister finally making the moves I�
�d been hoping she would was far too exciting to let him get in the way of properly celebrating, something I kept in mind even when I told her, “Hurry up before I mess around and fall asleep.”

  &

  Any time I went out with my little sister, it was really only a stark reminder of our age difference, her ability to throw back shots with no real repercussions something I had to be mindful of so I wouldn’t be tempted to match her glass for glass. But the urge to join her hit me square in the face once I glanced down the bar and saw Eric; the same Eric I had gone out on a date with the night before, smiling and giggling in the face of some other girl.

  I must’ve been staring too hard since Jamila noticed enough to ask, “Did he take one of your clients? Steal your parking spot at the store even though you had your blinker on? Or is it just the fact that he looks like a carbon copy of Jason that has you muggin’ him so hard? Either way, I will happily go over there and ruin his night.”

  While I probably should’ve been holding her back since I knew my little sister was about that action, I was quicker to defend, “Eric does not look like Jason.”

  Or does he?

  Same skin tone, same general facial structure, same height, same… oh my God.

  My internal panic got interrupted by Jamila asking, “Bitch, that’s Eric? Like, the Eric you just went out with the other night? Oh, hell no! I’m definitely about to…”

  I was forced to jump into action, catching her by the arm to finish, “Calm your ass down. It’s really not that big of a deal. I mean, it was just one date. It’s not like we’re suddenly exclusive.”

  It sounded good, but I still felt away, especially once I saw him using some of the same moves he had used on me during our date. The touches in certain, intimate places, the whispers in the ear, his sense of humor that now had her giggling; all things that had me looking forward to date two... until now.