Creative Love (Ladies of L.U. #1)

by J. Nichole

  I burst out laughing at his analogy. But it’s spot on. When he revealed my custom painting, I felt like I was in the bottom of the barrel of fuck buddies. I felt like there was no chance of there being anything more than just the fucking. Although the fucking was good, and I would take that on a good day, this felt like it was more than just fucking. And if it wasn’t more now, it would be more in the future. “But what now?”

  I’ve been in relationships before. After the fuck dude who stole my virginity in high school, I thought I was in love in college. It happened fast; we met, and he wooed me, and just like that I was in a relationship. Soon after I was fighting the urge to tell him I loved him. Then, I had to return to Tallahassee for school, and he was in Georgia. At first, he would call, but after time that got old. I was back on campus with sexy guys shooting their best shot, and it didn’t take long before I had no more will to ignore them. And just like that, I stopped answering his calls and it was over.

  Looking at Bryan I shrug. “Guess we’ll just see what happens. If we can both handle this distance.” I look at his hands that are still spread apart representing the bucket full of fuck buddies and us and say, “As long as the distance doesn’t become too hard to bear where we have to go digging into the barrel maybe we can have a relationship.”

  Bryan grabs his stomach. “Think I should give up on this food. Don’t think my stomach is ready for it yet.” He pushes his plate away from him. He reaches for the wine but shakes his head rising from his chair. “I better wash all that down with some water.”

  My eyes squint together. “That was a quick reaction. Maybe my stomach really has hardened.” With our plates in hand I move toward the kitchen. “Your last night in the area,” I say.

  “For a while,” he says. With the water running I turn to him looking up to hear more. “My last night in the area for a while.” He smiles. “I’ll be back soon.”

  “Okay, so what do you want to do for the rest of the night?” He stands close behind me encasing me on both sides with his arms.

  “I have a couple of thoughts.” He kisses my neck and I’m excited we both have the same thoughts. “The art gallery first.” Not what I was thinking. The spoon in my hand slips and clatters loudly against the sink. Bryan laughs and kisses my neck again. “We’ll get to that too.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Bryan

  “That one makes me want to sing,” I say looking at the picture of a street band with buckets flipped over as a set of drums.

  Nicole looks up at me and asks, “Want to give me another rendition of the Clark Brothers?” I shake my head. “Maybe later?” Nicole sighs. “I need a creative talent. I actually don’t think I have any.”

  Raising her hand to my mouth, I place a kiss on the back of it before saying, “You do. We all do. You just have to tap into it.” Nicole shrugs and looks back at the piece displayed in front of us. The art gallery is displaying a local artist with a street artist theme. Although it’s been a while since I’ve walked the streets of downtown Atlanta, from these pictures it appears not much has changed. Atlanta, like many cities, has a number of hustlers. Some selling knock-off purses, or jewelry, others displaying their talent for a tip.

  “If it came down to it at least you could sell your art on the street.”

  “Yes, the streets of Atlanta. I think I may know someone who may let me crash on her couch.” Nicole nods her head. “Let’s meet the artist.”

  The artist, a young female with hair as artistic as her paintings stands near one of her pieces. With a crowd gathered around listening to her describe the motivation for her pieces, Nicole and I stand waiting for them to thin out. When I get a closer look at her, I vaguely remember her face. Then the sound of music bursts through my thoughts.

  The artist remains after the crowd clears and Nicole offers her hand first. “Beautiful work here.” The artist shakes her hand and accepts Nicole’s compliments. “Are you from Atlanta?”

  “I am. You may have even passed me downtown one day. These street artists are my peers.” Nicole cocks her head to the side. “Before getting into this gallery I was homeless. Then someone saw one of my pieces and offered me an opportunity and a place to stay.”

  “That’s amazing,” I say offering my hand. “I think I saw you earlier today.” She looks at me without a sense of familiarity. “At the studio.”

  She nods. “I was out at the studio today. Hopefully, my music didn’t bother you.”

  I shake my head and say, “No, it didn’t bother me.” I look around me and ask, “Did that piece make it here?”

  “No, that’s for a different gallery.” She looks between Nicole and I and then asks, “Do you paint?”

  “I do,” I say. Nicole shakes her head. “Don’t want to keep you too long.” Another crowd starts to gather around us. “It was a pleasure meeting you.” Nicole and I shake hands with the artist again before walking toward the exit.

  “I feel like my walls could use another custom piece.” We stop at the door and she says, “Especially since it would be going to support her.” She looks back at the artist with her wild hair and knowing her passion is just as fierce as her hair, I can support Nicole’s desire.

  “Let’s do it. Which one?”

  Nicole puts her finger in the air and walks away. I stand at the exit flipping through my phone. When Nicole returns she says, “Alright. Ready.”

  We walk back to the car hand in hand and the chill of the night causes Nicole to walk closer to my side. “I love the fall weather,” I say wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

  “I bet you do. It’s prime cuddle weather,” Nicole says with a laugh.

  “Football season actually. I’ve never been big on cuddling.”

  Nicole gasps. “Football? Over cuddling?” She snuggles even closer and says, “I’m ready to teach you to fall in love with cuddling.”

  “I won’t complain.”

  On our drive home, we notice a few street performers and both Nicole and I point them out as we pass. “If there is one thing that’s sure about black folks, it’s that they know how to come up in life. Always hustling, never afraid to use their talents.” I notice Nicole’s face downturn and I ask, “What do you really love to do in your spare time?” She looks at me with a deviant grin and I say, “Besides that.”

  “Oh, I like reading. I love talking, joking around.” She looks at me with her eyes pulled together. “Why?”

  “Sometimes your talent is hidden in the things you love to do.”

  “Interesting.” For the remainder of the ride we listen to the music and although my ears are on the lyrics, I’m sure Nicole is lost in her thoughts, resting on the armrest between us with her finger on her chin.

  When we pull up to her apartment I open her door and reach for her hand, wrapping my fingers between hers. “Now on to your other favorite past time,” I say with my eyebrow raised.

  Nicole says, “That’s what I’m talking about.”

  As soon as the door closes behind us Nicole pulls her shirt over her head and throws it to the floor. Following behind her I watch as each piece of her clothing is thrown off in the same manner. I stand and watch as she stretches across her bed completely naked. “What are you waiting for?” she asks.

  “Guess I was captivated by the sight in front of me.” I begin throwing my clothes off with less fanfare. My shoes, shirt, and pants land in a pile near the bed.

  With her head hoisted up by her hand Nicole looks at me and says, “And those?” I look down at my boxers and shrug out of those too. She smiles wide before I climb into the bed beside her.

  With both of us naked and shivering under her cold air, we pull the blanket back and crawl beneath the sheets. Just as she led us here, I let her take lead in the bed. With her eyes fluttering beneath her long lashes, she leans into me and reaches behind my head. Her kisses are slow and deliberate. I return the momentum, tasting her lips beneath my tongue. With her chest against mine, I rub her back and she deepens our
kiss.

  After a tug to my shoulders I’m laying on top of her, breaking our kiss to spread the love down her body. Kisses to her neck and chest, and down her happy trail to her most sensitive spot. When I kiss all around it she begins to squirm. I end her squirming with a kiss to her spot, savoring my first taste of her. I hear her moan and her body stiffens.

  I continue getting to know each crevice of her body before I feel her release. Then I look up to her and ask, “Do you have any condoms around here?” I remembered that the one we used last night was my last. She nods her head and points toward her bedside table. I rise from the bed and rummage through the drawer, past her mini vibrator and below a stack of papers I find a few condoms. Grabbing one and rolling it on, I climb back into place over her body.

  She takes my face in her hands and pulls me in for a kiss, quicker and more fervent than the one before, and we kiss as I enter her. A sensation washes over me and I fight the urge to reach my release before we’re ready, before she’s ready to succumb to another wave of pleasure. Her nails dig into my back and her teeth graze my neck, and without her saying it I know her body is growing weak.

  I draw back and slowly re-enter her, until I feel her quiver, until she says, “Bryan” in my ear, and when she does I have no more resolve. I release. With my eyes closed tight I roll to the side of Nicole and she finds her place beside me, just how we started, side by side, with her curves fitting neatly into mine.

  Drifting into sleep I hear Nicole when she leaves the bed headed toward the bathroom. A nudge to my side wakes me again. “Hey, I need to do some work. I’ll be in the living room,” she says. I nod my head without opening my eyes, but after she leaves the room sleep evades me. Being here, I feel like I’ve cracked the code that Nicole had hidden away. The code that would let me in, but I remember what she said earlier about distance. Can I handle the distance?

  Before leaving for Tennessee, my New York apartment was beginning to feel homey. Not like home, but I was becoming comfortable in the space. Now that I’m back from Tennessee, and especially Atlanta, my apartment feels cold.

  My paintings that I sent back with Chris are on the ground sitting against the walls with my supplies in heaps in a corner. Unlike my condo in Knoxville, I don’t have a room to set up as a studio. I’ll have to move all this, hopefully to a place nearby. With my newest piece of art in hand I search for my hammer. The red rose doesn’t match anything in my apartment, but I’ll make it work.

  Pounding my hammer against the nail on the corner wall of my bedroom feels right. Having Nicole’s art in my room feels right. If nothing else, I’ll be reminded of her before I go to bed at night and when I wake up every morning. As an artist, if anyone visits, hopefully they don’t see this stock piece in my house and question my artistic judgment. With the picture hanging, I step back and snap a picture to send to Nicole.

  Bryan: Doesn’t look too bad in its new home.

  I didn’t tell Nicole that I was bringing the picture with me to New York. She may not have even noticed when she got home that the picture was missing. Now on to my actual art, I need to find homes for each of these pieces. Sitting on the couch, I use my phone to search for nearby studios to continue painting and to display my finished art. Finding one about two blocks away, I give them a call and set up a meeting.

  Standing, I shift through each of the pieces on the ground and make sure I have pictures of them in my phone when I see a piece I’ve already mentally given away. A piece I thought would be the perfect gift for her. I pull it out of the stack and set it aside. My phone dings with a message back from Nicole and I smile when I see no words but the portrait from the gallery of the street performers, those who were banging on the buckets.

  Bryan: Great choice. Need help hanging it?

  Chris should be home by now, and I owe him a visit. I’m sure he’s missed me over the last few days. With my keys and phone in hand, I leave out of the apartment to catch up with him.

  “Damn, dude. Finally back,” Chris says as he holds the door open.

  “Yeah, you busy?”

  Chris moves out of the way and lets me in the apartment. “No, just got off. Waiting for Laila to get home so we can grab dinner.” The routine was familiar for me, for a day, a routine I could take on more regularly. “How was your surprise trip?” Chris laughs and plops on his couch as he removes his shoes. “I assume since your ass wasn’t back here on Sunday that she didn’t kick you out for showing up unannounced.”

  “It was a good visit. She was pleasantly surprised.” I sit down on the couch beside him. “Next time I’ll plan the trip with her though.” Thinking of old dude showing up without calling made me feel territorial, but it also put me in my place.

  “Oh yeah, mister dick slayer, finally realized that women aren’t waiting for you to arrive?”

  “Man look. I’m trying to change my ways.”

  Chris drops his shoe on the ground beside him. Looking at me with his eyebrows raised he says, “Y’all fucked?”

  My head falls back on his couch and I laugh. Of course he takes me wanting to change my ways as we fucked. “All in my business.” I smirk at him. “Unrelated, I may need your help with moving the art from my apartment to a studio.”

  “Yeah it was a challenge getting it all into your apartment. Just let me know when you’re ready.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate it.” I slap his leg and say, “When my art starts selling for millions I won’t forget about you.”

  The door opens and Chris and I both look toward it waiting for Laila to walk through. She puts her bag down, with her phone to her ear she looks up to both of us and smiles widely. Hurrying off the phone, she comes over to the both of us and gives Chris a kiss before wrapping her arms around me. “I was just starting to miss you.” She squeezes onto the couch between me and Chris. “How was Tennessee?”

  Although I’m sure she’d rather hear about my trip to see her friend, I follow her questioning. “It was a good trip. Always good to be back home. Driving my car, no traffic, the folks, good food.” I look at her with a wide smile after realizing I miss home more than I let myself believe. “It was good.”

  Chris nods his head in agreement. “I’d agree to all of that.” He rubs Laila’s leg and says, “Next time you have to join us.” She sighs and agrees.

  “Yeah, Mom was disappointed to only have us boys home.” My mom is still chomping at the bit for a daughter-in-law. Chris is the closest to delivering on that request.

  “Don’t want to disappoint momma,” Laila says.

  “Nope.” As trained robots Chris and I say in unison, “Don’t ever want to disappoint Mom.”

  Laila laughs at our rendition of my dad’s favorite catch phrase. No matter how much he judged us for our recklessness, or scolded us for our decisions, Mom was the good cop. We were raised to believe making her the bad cop would be the ultimate indiscretion.

  “And how was your surprise, last minute, unplanned, trip to Atlanta?” Laila leaves no room for me to misunderstand her thoughts of my trip to Atlanta.

  I face her with her eyebrows raised and her arms crossed her chest. “Tell me how you really feel.” She begins to speak then stops. “It was a good trip.” I turn my head sideways to judge her reaction. “Did you hear otherwise?”

  “Nope. Just got a mini cursing out for giving you Nicole’s address.”

  “It was all to the good. I think I’ll go back, planned, totally not random, with Nicole in on all the plans, at the end of the month.”

  “That good, huh?” She slaps my knee. “I’m happy to hear it. You both deserve a good person in your lives.” She’s right, we both deserve to be happy.

  “Let me get out of here.” I stand to leave and walk toward the door. “I’ll catch up with y’all later.” Looking over my shoulder with the door held open I tell Chris, “As soon as I have the details on the studio I’ll give you a call for your help.”

  Being alone in my apartment feels strange. A few days of having at leas
t one person around me at all times was comforting. Sitting on the couch, I scroll through my phone for the address to send the art I had set aside. I heard she returned to her childhood home, moving in after her father passed away. I haven’t seen her in a while, and have no plans of seeing her again. But she, more than anyone else, needs this piece of art.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Nicole

  “Are you sure your dude won’t be upset if we are out together?” I love it when a guy passively asks if I’m single. I look up at Kevin and roll my eyes softly. After he came to my apartment unannounced and bumped into Bryan I’m sure he thinks I’m in a relationship. Hell, I’d think I were in a relationship too, had I been him.

  “You can ask me straight up, no need to beat around the bush.” I turn to the window and watch the people strolling past.

  Kevin taps the table and says, “I apologize.” I look back at Kevin and my mouth nearly falls open. I don’t think I’ve ever had a guy apologize. For anything. “That’s offensive to assume that you would be out with me if you had a guy. That you would have let me approach you in the grocery store that day.”

  I shrug my shoulders. “You’re right. If I did have a dude, I would hope I’d respect him enough to not be out around town with you or anyone else.” Shuffling my rice around my plate with my fork I say, “I’m single. I have been for a while.”

  “I know it’s cliché`, but why?” Kevin asks with a stone face. “You’re gorgeous, with a good sense of humor, slightly sarcastic, and you’re independent. Has to be by choice, right?”

  “Thanks for all of that.” I cock my head and smile. “Except for the sarcastic piece. You could have kept that to yourself.” Kevin laughs and his smile… that damn smile. It’s an automatic panty dropper, making me shift in my seat. “It is by choice. Maybe when I find a guy who is serious about being in a relationship it’ll happen.”