Love Across Colors (Urban BWWM Interracial Romance)

Does race matter when it comes to love?
Melinda doesn't seem to think so, although not all of her family would agree.

Brought up in a rough neighborhood, she's always managed to keep her head down and forward her life and career.

Her focus has allowed Melinda a job which pays the bills, it but doesn't quite afford her that car she's always wanted. She needs something new to get her excited about life again... and on cue, Kevin arrives.

A white man; but her type both physically and mentally. Never has she wanted someone so much, but how will those around her react to her interracial dating choice? All will be revealed in this
BWWM urban romance for adults.

Warning: Contains descriptive sex scenes.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

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Melinda forced her way through the group of people gathered at the bus station, waiting to get inside the vehicle she was just exiting. She was so sick and tired of getting the bus
,
and she longed for the day when she would have the keys to her own car; then she wouldn’t have the need to suffer this intolerable indignity every day!

              There was only the one bus that passed her way in the evenings, and if she was unfortunate enough to miss it, she'd be forced to take a cab.

             
And cab 'fares' weren't cheap.

             
Melinda didn’t see what was so 'fare' about paying almost one hundred dollars just to get across the city, rising gas costs or not. Which only lead
s
to another conclusion; she needed a better paying job.

              She dragged her tired frame across the street and around the apartment block separating her from rest. She groaned as she rounded the corner and came face
-
to
-
face with her resident pest. Marcus had been hitting on her ever since she
had
c
o
a
me of age, and he refused to let up no matter what she said or how cold she came off.

             
“Well hello
,
Mel,” he grinned at her. He was not a bad
-
looking man if one took the time to scrutinize his features, which Melinda did not. He always seemed to be caught up in the wrong company
,
and that by itself was the ultimate turn
off.

              “Not today
,
Marcus,” she said. “I am tired.”

              “I bet I can help you with that. I am good at foot scrubs and body massages,” he grinned at her as he cocked his head.

             
Melinda cast him a wary glance and continued walking. “Don’t be shy to take me up on the offer
,
Mel. I know you don’t have a man. I haven’t seen one come around here in a long time. It’s a sign that you and I are meant to be together. You hear me
,
Mel?” he practically screamed at her as she faded in the distance and out of his line of sight. Melinda had come to realize it was best she didn’t even respond to him; anything she said was usually taken as encouragement. She passed a group of men sitting on the corner of the street, dealing no doubt, but she pretended as if not to notice them. This sort of behavior was common
place in these parts
,
and more times than not she felt very much like the mermaid of South Central
—
;
totally out of place.

             
They gazed at her
,
and some even whistled as she walked by. She could hear them whispering things about her, what they would like to do if given the chance, but this was talk that was now as familiar as the pavement she was walking on. A few houses down she passed Solomon, the neighborhood milkman, and she smiled at the elderly man as he limped by.

              “How’s the knee
,
Mr. Solomon?” she asked.

              “Still being a nuisance
,
my dear, but it won’t win this round,” he grinned at her, revealing a toothless smile. She rather liked the old man, and she patted him on the back as he hobbled along.

              “Take it easy still. You know I only like when you bring me milk,” she said as she winked at him. In his senior years the old man was still capable of blushing
,
and his cheeks grew rosy at her words.

              Melinda passed another stoop before she came upon her own, and she climbed the three steps that ended on a landing leading to her front door. She shoved her hand inside her bag and withdrew a bunch of keys, far too many for the size of this house. Upon entering there was no question as to why she needed so many; there were no less than five locks on the doors and another key for everything else, including the refrigerator. She never did use this but she had some relatives who would pass through from time to time that gave this particular key some exercise.

             
“Dad? You here?” she called out as she slipped her shoes from her feet. She took them with her as she made her way to the sofa, and as she sat, she started rubbing the sore spots on her feet. They burned from being locked up tightly inside leather shoes for an entire day,
and
appear
ing
ed
swollen now. She looked around
now
, wondering where her old man was. “Dad?” she called again. He must be out, she thought when she heard no reply the second time of calling.

              Just then the door opened and he came inside, holding a brown paper bag under his arm. “Oh you’re home,” he said.

             
“I just got here,” she said, as her head fell back against the sofa and she closed her eyes.

             
“Tired, I see,” he observed. She could hear him in the kitchen rummaging through the contents of the bag, and then the refrigerator door opening and closing as he deposited some of the products there. Soon she heard him walking over to her. “It’s a good thing I got take
out then
,
huh?” he asked as he sat next to her.

              Melinda’s eyes opened instantly. “Really? Thanks
,
Dad. You have no idea how I appreciate that. I don’t think I can even manage a proper shower now. My body is caving in.”

              Melvin laughed. “Always the drama queen,” he said. He got up and pulled the ottoman across from her and sat down. “Let me see those feet. Maybe I can help,” he said. He lifted her legs one at a time onto his lap as he rubbed them gently. “I remember when I used to do this with your mother so many years ago. She used to fall asleep right there every time,” he smiled
,
and a look of nostalgia washed over his features.

              Pamela, Melinda’s mom, had died several years ago from pancreatic cancer. Both their worlds had slipped from their axes, and had it not been for the other, neither would have coped naturally.  It had been especially intolerable watching her suffer daily
,
and when death had finally relieved her of the pain, it only shattered two beating hearts simultaneously. Melinda had fallen on the strength of her father, who never openly shed a tear about it. But deep in the nights, when the world was asleep, and he felt as if he were alone, Melinda would see him with his head bowed
,
and his shoulders shaking as he wept. The thought of her father crying was never easy to witness, and she returned the support he had given her in the earlier days. Some nights they would sit and talk about her, as a coping mechanism; at other times, they pretended it
had
never happened.

              “I still miss her,” he said softly.

             
“I know you do
,
Dad, but let’s not talk about that now.” Melinda was not sure in her current state she could handle that with any ladylike decorum. “What did you get for dinner?” she asked as she sat up
right now, observing her father’s gentle hands as they swept over her sore feet.

              “Chinese,” he said.

             
“My favorite,” she grinned. She lifted her legs from his lap. “Thanks
,
old man,” she whispered as she kissed him on his brow on her way to the kitchen. She brought him his box, and the two sat in front of the television watching re-runs of
The Jeffersons
.

             
“You know, if you had a man, he could have given you a foot rub just now,” Melvin said as soon as he had finished eating. He didn’t dare look at her for fear of the expression he would behold.

             
“Not that again,” Melinda groaned.

             
“Yes
,
that again. You are twenty-seven now, and it has been a long time since anyone has come in here. Don’t you want to get married and have babies like normal women do?” he asked.

              She turned to look at him. “’Like normal women do’? What is so abnormal about what I am doing? I am twenty-seven, not fifty,” she retaliated.

             
“And at this rate you will get to fifty
,
and I will still be the on
e
giving you foot massages. It is full time you get a husband and give me some grand
kids to spoil,” he said seriously.

              “Dad, I have a steady job. I make good money, albeit it could be better. I need to build my career further before I can think of settling down with anyone. What do I have now to offer any man?”

             
“You have that lovely face and that beautiful personality. There is nothing wrong with you and you can always have your career after. Family should come first.”

             
“Maybe in your time it did, but it is a different time now. Have you taken a look outside lately and seen the ‘available’ men there are out there?” she asked, pointing to the street.

             
“I ain’t never said you should go be with a dealer or a convict, but there are other nice young black men still out there. What about that fellow who keeps messing with you? I know his family
,
and he comes from good stock.”

              “Who? You mean Marcus? Are you kidding me?” she asked. “You are so desperate to get me married you would shove me onto the first man you think is a fit? Marcus sits on the street every day doing nothing constructive other than making passes at every female that passes by.”

             
“Well, what about Lawrence?” he persisted.

             
“Lawrence who?  From down the block? Dad, he has to go to court every month for child support; you don’t want me with him. Furthermore it is for me to decide, not you,” she said as she rose to dispose of the empty boxes.

             
“Do you know how embarrassing it is to get together at the annual picnic and not be able to boast about a grandchild? All of my friends have at least two already,” Melvin complained.

             
“Dad, this isn’t about you
,
and I know that you want grand
children
,
but you will just have t
o
wait. Do you not see where we live? It should be enough that I am able to hold down a job, to even have a job at all. I walk in this community
,
and all I see are young black folks either waiting earnestly for an opportunity to make something of themselves
,
or others who have already given up the struggle. I do not want
t
o become a statistic for young black women who are single parents. When I do this, I will do it right
,
and you will appreciate it,” she told him.

              Melvin was fixing to say something else
,
but nothing came from his lips. “Don’t worry
,
Dad. All in time.”  Melinda took up some used dishes she saw in the sink and began to wash them. “I do try
,
Dad, but some things just take time,” she added, telling herself more than her dad. She took up a piece of china and proceeded to soap it, now lost in thought as she viewed the neighborhood she had grown up in. She had one friend here, and she lived her life vicariously through her. Fuchsia had met someone too
,
and had fallen head over heels with him, only to get pregnant; normally that would be a happy occasion for most couples, but Dave had taken that as a means to distance himself from her. He found all sorts of reasons not to be around anymore, and eventually Fuchsia found out he was dating other girls as well. This had broken her friend’s heart for not only had she lost the man she loved, the man she thought had loved her back, but now she had a baby on the way and she was alone. Melinda had been the one to support her through it all, and now Fuchsia was the mother of a sweet baby girl. They came over as often as they could, but Melinda didn’t want the same fate to befall her. She could not guarantee much in life, but she would at least choose as wisely as she could. For starters, she didn’t want a baby from a man that would not even contemplate marriage with her.

              Looking around in this neighborhood was not an encouraging view of the world at large; there were too many young men with nothing suitable occupying their time. She would pass them daily in one spot
,
and she was sure to do the same, a few hours later. This was not to say there weren’t any suitable men around
,
but the ones she knew were already taken. Her father constantly mentioning her love life was becoming like a sore in Melinda’s side. She did want someone in her life, and it wasn’t as if she wasn’t trying. She was active on the social scene as she and Fuchsia went out almost every weekend. She had met some men before and had gone out on blind dates as well, but none had been anything she wanted to pursue. But she did not plan on getting to fifty and still have her dad massaging her feet.