The car door shuts with a bang and I stare at the windscreen. It's silent, the only sound is from my heaving and an annoying beep sound.
"You need to put a seatbelt on, Imani," I feel his stare still on me.
"Just shut up, and drive," I grit my teeth.
"Yes, ma'am," he chuckles softly and drives out the parking space.
I stare out the window and let out a deep sigh as the car drives along, wondering why he isn't talking to me or anything. I mean, is it not men who are supposed to be conversation starters?
"You know, you should be directing me to your house," his says in a low tone.
"And it's now you talk about that?" my tone certainly doesn't match his.
"You have one loud voice, Imani," he stops at a red light.
"Well excuse me,sir! But unlike you my wiring came with a PA system and major vocals so-!"
"Okay,okay. I hear you," his hands are raised and I slouch into the chair.
Pathetic.
"Left," I mutter, noticing the road we're taking is close to home.
"What?"
"Left," I snap.
"Oh," he turns left and keeps driving.
"Are you always this calm about everything?" I turn to face him.
"Yes. Why, I shouldn't be?" He grins.
"I don't know," I roll my eyes.
"Well, I'm not much of an aggressive person,"
Wow, meet the world champ at aggression: Imani Yané-that would be me.
"Ahh, I see," I nod slowly. "Left again,"
"Why would you ask about me being calm?" he gives a side glance.
"Let's not talk about it, Mr Greear," he reaches for the knob on the radio, increasing the sound of the music playing.
"You're into EDM?" my jaw drops.
"Yeah, you have a problem with it?"
"Haha... no, not at all," I raise my brows in amusement. He actually has good taste.
Strange things about this guy. What next, Coachella?
"Town Hill Estate, nice," we drive past the entrance and into the vast area of detached houses lined up on each side.
"2080 is my house,there," I point and he parks right by the sidewalk.
"Well, here we are," he announces.
I can't believe Kenya made him drop me off... now he knows where I live.
"Yep, well thank you and goodnight," I quickly grab my bag and open the door.
"See you soon, Imani," his face is dark and mysterious, almost like he could take me down right here, right now.
"Quick reminder, this is your first and most certainly your last time doing this. I don't want you visiting me whatsoever,"
"The flattery," he scoffs.
"I'm just saying," I close discussion, exiting the car.
"Goodnight, Imani," gosh his voice is seductive- damnit.
"Goodbye, Mr Greear," I close the door and walk to my house, not bothering to look over my shoulder.
Today was quite the experience.
***
"So what's the plan for this weekend, ladies?" Hannah has one heck of a hype and Friday hasn't even arrived.
"I'm going to get my hair done this weekend, zero cares what y'all think," I throw a peace sign at them.
"Oh," Kenya says, gently patting the laid edges of my hairline.
"What's the plan then?" Hannah inquies, selectively picking a fried chip from her plate.
"I don't know, but I want something simple and manageable," I stare into space.
"You could always try braiding your hair into a bun?" Kenya suggests.
"Nah girl! What Imani needs is a wig," Hannah now holds a scowl at her suggestion, taking another chip.
"Maybe, but then if all else fails then I could always just braid it."
YOU ARE READING
Honeyblonde Curls
Romance"Well, I can understand why they'd be like that," he begins, "Parents are like that; the whole idea of having their child's life planned out so they aren't embarrassed . But if they want to see you then sure, hear them out. I know you would want to...
