BWWM Interracial Romance 6: Her Protector (4 page)

She was glad that he had asked her now—that he was single once more, and so was she, and they could explore the possibility of a relationship together, however belatedly. It was almost enough to ease the discomfort of looking over the numbers for the day, and cold as the comfort was, Adriana was not in a position to turn it down.

It was two weeks until Adriana and Sawyer could make their schedules work together and find the time for their date; two weeks during which Adriana tried to text Sawyer regularly to make sure he didn’t think she was avoiding him—during which she struggled with the idea of whether to go at all, to take the chance. She wanted to, but whenever she contemplated taking a night off—leaving her mom to pick up the slack for the evening—she felt a stab of guilt. But Esther was adamant that she should go. “You’re putting your life on hold, waiting for some time when you can go back to ‘normal.’ It’s not going to happen, baby girl.” So Esther had arranged their schedules to give Adriana a night off to spend with Sawyer; Adriana worked the lunch shift and got the paperwork done, and rushed home to shower and figure out what she was going to wear.

They had agreed on a movie when they set a date for their outing; it was one that Adriana wasn’t terribly excited to see, but she thought it would do for the purposes of a date. She didn’t want to go to a movie that she really, really wanted to see—she knew she’d be distracted by Sawyer’s presence next to her all night. It had been over a year since the last time she had gone on a date, and Adriana was as nervous as she had been the first several times she’d ever gone out as a teenager. Rushing home, she picked through her closet, setting aside item after item, outfit after outfit as too drab, too revealing, too conservative, too casual, too formal, and so on. She stood in her bedroom in despair of finding something that exactly suited the date that she was going on; her wardrobe had, over the years, been pared down to essentials—things she could wear to work and things she could lounge around in or run errands in comfortably. There was nothing in her closet or her drawers that was remotely suggestive of a date.

She called Desiree. “I have no idea what I’m going to wear on my date with Sawyer,” she said the moment her friend picked up.

“Sweetie,” Desiree had said, and Adriana could picture her friend shaking her head, “First of all, Sawyer isn’t going to even notice what you’re wearing, so you can stop working yourself up right this second.” Adriana had smiled in spite of her flustered worry. “Second of all, I’ve seen your wardrobe, woman. You’ve got pieces that will go together just fine, you just have to stop worrying so hard and mix things up a bit.”

Adriana looked at the pile of clothes she had thrown onto her bed like the most frustrated teenager and sighed. “I don’t even know how I should dress,” Adriana said, throwing herself down onto the one empty spot on her bed.

Desiree made a low humming sound, and Adriana knew that just as her friend had whenever she would call her in high school for clothing advice, Desiree was mentally forming a picture of a finished outfit appropriate for the situation at hand.

“Okay,” Desiree said after a moment. “I know you’ve got at least one black blazer. Have you got a light pink blouse?”

Adriana sat up and rummaged through the pile of clothes. Nothing there. She went to her dresser, and found a tank top the color Desiree suggested. “Yeah—a tank-top counts, right?”

“Perfect. Wear that with the blazer and a fitted pair of jeans, a pair of black heels, maybe some pearls—no big statement jewelry. Light makeup, nice headband, and a red lip, you’re all set.”

Adriana sighed with relief. “Desiree, you are the best.”

“Get laid tonight sweetie.”

Adriana took a shower and did her makeup exactly the way that Desiree suggested—keeping it subtle everywhere but her lips. She put together the outfit that her friend had prescribed, and settled in to wait for Sawyer to arrive. She told herself firmly that she was not going to pace. She was going to wait patiently, and if he ran late—as she suspected he would—she would just accept that. In spite of her resolution, when it was fifteen minutes before the time that Sawyer should have arrived, Adriana stood and started walking back and forth along the length of the throw rug in the den, uncaring of the fact that it would make her feet hurt before her date even arrived. She wondered in a welter of conflicting feelings if agreeing to go out with him was a huge mistake; if they hadn’t managed to hook up in high school, why would it make any sense to get together now? She had to admit that they had both grown up, both had more life experience since then—but how much had either of them really changed, and were any of those changes a good thing?

Five minutes before the time the two of them had agreed on, there was a knock on the front door, and Adriana nearly jumped out of her shoes. She took a deep breath, blushing in spite of the fact that she knew that Sawyer couldn’t have seen her, and hurried to the door. She took another deep breath as her heart pounded in her ears, her blood rushing through her veins. Adriana’s mouth was dry, her throat tight—was it a major mistake? She closed her eyes and tried to calm herself.

After a moment, she opened the door and Sawyer was right there, a small bouquet of irises in his hands. Adriana’s eyes widened. “Holy shit, you remembered!” the words tumbled from her mouth before she could even think. She had told Sawyer—if she had at all—back in high school that she loved irises.

Sawyer grinned and extended the stems towards her. “Hey, I’m not a stupid guy. Just because it was way back then doesn’t mean it wouldn’t stick with me.”

Adriana grinned, her heart was still pounding, but with excitement rather than anxiety. “Come in for a second, let me put these in some water,” Adriana said, feeling that fluttery feeling in her stomach; the giddy, pleased feeling that made her cheeks heat up and her body tingle. Sawyer followed her into the house, looking around. He had been inside the Ellis home on more than one occasion as a teenager—it had been one of the centers of their mutual social life, a place where everyone could hang out and have fun.

Adriana carried the bouquet into the kitchen and found an empty vase; she cut the rubber band holding the stems together and filled the glass vase with plenty of water, dropping the flowers loosely in, arranging them lightly and looking at them with satisfaction. “You look amazing,” Sawyer said, and Adriana turned around to smile at him, settling the base and flowers on the counter as she blushed.

He was looking good as well; he was wearing a fitted, button-down shirt, white with blue stripes, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the top two buttons undone, and a pair of fitted jeans.

“You clean up good yourself,” Adriana admitted, looking him over from head to toe once more. She noticed that he had managed to get his messy, short hair into some semblance of order, brushed lightly down against his skull instead of sticking up in all directions. He had also shaved, leaving his face looking baby-smooth.

“Nah, I’m totally out-classed,” he said with a slow smile that sent a frisson of something through Adriana’s body.

She shook her head, touching her hair and shaking off her sense of tense nervousness. “We should probably get to the theater, right?”

Sawyer broke out of his admiring stare, his eyes widening slightly. He nodded, the smile coming back onto his face. He offered her his arm in a courtly way, and Adriana took it, letting him lead her out of her own house. She locked the door behind her and slipped the key into her purse.

“I can see your taste in cars has improved,” she said, gesturing to the unfamiliar car parked at the edge of the driveway. When they had been in high school together, Sawyer’s deepest wish had been to own a true muscle car—but his budget had only given him the ability to by a cheap, old knock-off—more likely to stall out at the nearest intersection than to make it to the destination.

The car was a simple sedan, but Adriana was pleased to see that it was at least clean on the inside and not too dusty on the exterior, smelling faintly of a light, crisp freshener as she slipped in on the passenger side. She reached over and unlocked the driver’s side door while Sawyer walked around the front of the car; it was not the kind of car she would have imagined him to own; she was also surprised at how clean it was in contrast to his desk. She wondered idly what his house looked like, and pulled her thoughts away from that. In spite of Desiree’s admonition to get laid, she wasn’t sure she wanted to commit to more than just a movie.

They drove out to the Mad Horse Theater, making small talk, and Adriana tried to figure out just how she felt about the date—and about Sawyer. She knew that even still she was attracted to him; it was hard not to be. But at the same time it felt weird and awkward, tense in a way she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

Sawyer insisted on buying the tickets and paying for snacks at the concession stand—since they were going to be missing the prime dinnertime during the movie. Adriana had eaten something at home, but she was willing to share a small popcorn with him, and she ate some of the overpriced candy he had bought during the movie. Out of high school nostalgia, they both ordered Icees—Adriana cherry and Sawyer Coca-Cola.

“How do you feel about talking during movies?” Sawyer asked her as they settled down in their seats, comfortably placed between the screen and the back of the theater. The theatre wasn’t crowded from both the fact that it was the middle of the week and the movie’s mediocre reviews. There were some scattered couples and groups, but it had been easy for them to get a center row.

“That depends on the movie,” Adriana said. “If it’s really good I hate it. But I mean… this shouldn’t be too bad, and maybe if we keep it to whispers we won’t get kicked out this time.” More than once the group of friends they’d both belonged to had gotten themselves ejected from movie theaters; it had been nothing more than typical teenage reactions to bad comedies or overblown dramas, and every time they’d been escorted out the unanimous decision had been that it was worth it.

“You haven’t changed much, then,” Sawyer said with a grin. “This one should be good enough to watch, but bad enough to talk.” They managed to quiet down when the lights dimmed, but within ten minutes of the film, they were whispering to each other—joking about the silliness of some of the plot devices, the inconsistencies of the characters. They kept their voices low, snickering and giggling in the darkness as quietly as they could manage. Halfway through the movie, their snacks finished, Sawyer’s hand found hers in the darkness, and Adriana felt a tingle along her spine, a flutter in her chest. She smiled in the flickering pale light and darkness, tightening her grip and twining her fingers between his. Adriana’s whole body warmed, and she began to reconsider the possibility of going home with him.

The movie ended and they both agreed that they didn’t want to end the evening. When Sawyer said, “Shall we head over to Ernie’s?” Adriana almost laughed. It felt so familiar; the pool and dart hall had been a favorite since they were old enough to drink—or at least when they had been able to manage a good enough fake ID. Adriana agreed, thinking a couple of beers would go down well, and loosen up the tight, anticipating feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Ernie’s was busier than the movie theater had been, and Adriana hurried to snag a booth where she and Sawyer could keep talking, while her date went up to the bar to get their beers. Alone for the moment, Adriana checked her phone quickly.

How’s it going? You back at his place yet?

Adriana rolled her eyes at Desiree’s question and texted back that they’d decided to adjourn to Ernie’s.

Make your move, woman!

Adriana slipped her phone back into her purse, shaking her head with a smile. She still wasn’t terribly certain she wanted to take the big step of going home with Sawyer, but she did know for sure that it wouldn’t be their only date.

Sawyer brought their beers and they began to talk about everything—the movie, their reminiscences from high school, the most pleasant aspects of their current lives. Adriana told Sawyer stories about her time in college, and he countered with hijinks from police academy. They had a second beer and Adriana found herself hoping that the night would never end; she felt giddy and giggly, content and eager for more all at once. All of her reservations about the date had gone, and Adriana could only mentally shake her head at herself for the fact that she had put it off for so long.

They began to wind down, doing more staring into each other’s eyes and smiling than talking, when the peace was disrupted. “Hey—you’re that asshole cop who put me in the can a while back,” a man said, staggering up to the table.

Adriana looked up and her eyes widened as she realized that it was the man who had been forcibly removed from her restaurant the night she had seen Sawyer again for the first time. He was even drunker than he had been that night, as evidenced by the deeper slurring of his speech, the way he wavered and reeled even when he stood still.

“If you’ve got a problem, man, take it up with the judge.” Sawyer told him.

The man made a rude noise. He grabbed at the booth to try and steady himself.

“You on a date, 5-0?” he asked, looking at Adriana. For a moment, the man’s dark eyebrows knit together, his eyes narrowing. “You’re that bitch,” he said, his voice rising steadily in volume. “That dumb bitch who called the cops on me.”

Adriana set her jaw. “You should head out before you get the cops called on you this time, too,” Adriana said as calmly as she could.

“No! You don’t own this place—this is MY place! You can’t kick me out of here…” the man was ranting and raving, and Adriana felt her heart beating faster in fear. “You can’t do anything about it!” The man’s demeanor changed sharply—one moment he was a mostly harmless, if intimidating, ranting man; the next moment he had staggered to a stop, scowling heavily at them both. “I see how it is,” he said, turning the scowl on only Sawyer. “You’re screwing this monkey girl, so you come running when she calls.”