Lessons From a Younger Lover (30 page)

Night turned to see D'Andra still standing near the door. “Where's your card?”

“Card?”

“Your ID to get into the gym.” Night held up the card he'd just scanned.

“I don't have one. I just joined online a couple days ago.”

Night motioned to a young man working behind the counter, even as he walked over and once again placed a reassuring hand on D'Andra's elbow. She stiffened.
Why does he keep touching me?
she thought. Didn't the man know he was in danger? It had been almost six months since she'd had sex and her kitty had been meowing ever since her day turned to Night.

“She needs an ID,” Night told the worker.

D'Andra once again forced her mind away from sensual thoughts. She needed to get ahold of herself, though truth be told, she'd rather that Night got ahold of her. But she knew she wasn't ready for another relationship. She couldn't expect someone else to love her until she learned to love herself. That's what she'd read in a book on relationships Elaine had given her. And while she was working on it and making progress, she wasn't there yet. Until she was, men were off limits.

“Hey, Night; what's going on, buddy?” A jovial, handsome man with a tanned face, thick brown hair, and a hoop hanging from a pierced brow asked as he joined the worker behind the counter. He and Night did a soul brothers' handshake.

“Nothing to it, Marc. Just here to help my friend D'Andra, uh…” Night paused and looked questioningly at D'Andra.

“Smalls. D'Andra Smalls.”

“Yes, here to help my friend D'Andra Smalls get her workout on.”

D'Andra warmed at Night's words. Her last name had always been a hindrance, like a bad joke fate had played. Her surname was the only thing about her that was little, and ever since she could remember she'd been teased about this fact. But Night breathed her last name like a song; as if it was a promise instead of a lie.

“You ready for your picture?”

D'Andra looked at Night as if he'd cursed. “Oh no, I don't do pictures.”

“You have to take one for your ID,” Marc interjected. He pointed to a spot at the end of the counter. “Just stand over there.”

In that moment, D'Andra wished Night gone. How could she stand there and pose with a man like him staring at her?
This is stupid! Why did I listen to Elaine? Coming here was a big mistake.
These thoughts whirled in D'Andra's head as she walked to the end of the counter and turned around.

“Now, doll, don't stand there looking like you're about to get shot,” Night coaxed. “Let me see that pretty smile.”

D'Andra willed herself to not be self-conscious. Then, for some unknown reason, she imagined Night's hard bare-naked ass, the one she'd admired as he stood at the counter, being the picture on the back of his ID card. His butt was surely as unique as a fingerprint; God couldn't have sculpted that masterpiece twice. She stopped short of laughing out loud, but showed almost all thirty-two pearly whites as the camera flashed.