Loving Jacob (Breathless 5)

"I'm a drug dealer." I delivered the line with a straight face and a perfectly flat voice. I amazed myself at how easily I said it. Poor Kemara looked like she was going to have an aneurism then and there, so I couldn't hold my straight face for long. I laughed. "I'm just kidding. I work and I had some money saved up. That's all."

"You're spending your savings to take me out?"

"Yeah, you're worth it. Aren't you?"

She rolled her eyes. "If you say so." Even her mock annoyance was adorable.

"So what do you do?" I asked, just wanting to make simple conversation, not trying to measure exactly how far out of my league I actually was.

"I work with insurance claims, what about you?"

"Construction."

She grinned. "I figured. How else do you explain all these muscles?" She reached across the tiny table and felt my arm which I instinctively flexed for her.

"All that lifting I did in prison."

Once again her mouth fell open.

"If you're going to keep making it this easy, then I'm not sure I'll be able to stop."

She leaned back in her chair and laughed. That sound was so beautiful, I would make jokes all night to hear it again and again.

We sat there drinking fine wine, which I honestly liked less than the stuff I get from a box, and talking about our lives—work, friends, and families. I left out a few details about my family and friends to avoid wearing the fine wine that cost me two days’ pay and tasted like rot. But other than that, there wasn't much that I kept hidden. There was something about her that just made it easy to talk.

She was telling me about her sister and the jerk she married when she mentioned her sister being upset about us going out.

"Why's that?" I asked. A knot tightened in my stomach. She probably didn't like the idea of her fancy exec sister dating a construction worker. I didn't really have a comeback for that.

"She says there is only one thing white guys are interested in when they date black girls."

I nearly choked on the shitty wine. She had to be kidding. Not to be arrogant, but I'm a hot guy in a small town full of single women, I can order up pussy like it's pizza. I chuckled. "If all I was interested in was getting laid, there are a lot easier ways than trying to date a black woman in Lafayette County."

It took milliseconds to realize I said the wrong thing. Her face went deadpan. I fumbled for words to try to rescue what I was sure was now the shortest date of my life. "I just meant—"

"I think it was perfectly clear what you meant." If she sounded angry. I would have had at least some hope, but there was no emotion in her voice at all. She'd put up her walls and I wasn't sure I'd be able to scale them. She wiped her mouth and stood up from the table. "Thank you for the lovely dinner. I'll be going now."

She started to leave. I dropped the entire contents of my wallet, over five hundred on the table so I could chase after her without getting arrested. I caught up with her just outside the restaurant. "Kemara, wait."

She kept walking. It was miles to her place, so I knew she wasn't going to walk all the way home in heels. But she could walk over to a major street and catch a cab. If she got in that cab before I convinced her not to, that would be the last time I saw her. "At least let me drive you home."

"No, thank you. I'll be fine." She kept walking as if I hadn't even spoken. She was going to reach a major street soon. I had to stop her. I knew it would be a risk, she could flip out on me. I was desperate. I had to try something.

I grabbed her by her shoulders and forced her to face me. "Tell me what I said that was so horrible as to be unforgivable."

"If dating me is causing you so much hardship, then please, don't let me burden you with me presence."

"Oh, come on. You know I didn't mean it like that. I'm just being honest. Dating someone outside of your race causes complications, like someone's sister assuming I'm a bad guy without even knowing anything about me."

“So that doesn’t mean I’m going to be hard to date. It’s not about what my sister wants, it’s about what I want.”

“I’m sorry for saying that, Kemara. Okay?”

Her eyes fell to the ground and her shoulders went lax in my grip. "I suppose you have a point. There were some theatrics involved in the way I jumped up and ran out of the restaurant," she said and laughed. I joined in, laughing slightly. No longer fueled by a raging desire to get away from me, she began to rub her arms.

I took off my jacket and draped it over her shoulders. We walked back slowly towards the restaurant. When we the valet brought my truck, I reached into my wallet and realized I had dropped every dollar I had on the table. I didn't even have enough to pay him.

I looked at Kemara and I'm sure the agony of the question I had to ask showed on my face. "Do you have a twenty I could borrow?"