Yasmin Sullivan - In His Arms

“I’ll know when it’s time to get serious,” Rashad answered. “I’ll know when I find the right one.”

“I don’t know,” Keith said, already trying to control his laughter. “I’ve seen you out with a couple of, how shall I say, not-so-comely women.”

This exaggeration was designed to get Rashad’s gall up. They all knew that he dated lookers.

“Okay. Let me alone.” He panned his index fingers, pointing at all his brothers. “I can whip all of your behinds individually. Remember that.”

Rashad was the youngest but also by far the tallest of the four at six feet and two inches. And his brothers’ ribbing did get his gall up. He had dated only casually partly because he had in mind a model prototype of the woman he would marry, and he had not met her yet, so he had never really been serious. Actually, he resented the pressure his brothers put on him to conform, but he found that it subsided more quickly if he ignored them and didn’t let on that they were getting on his last nerve.

“It’s not that it isn’t fun to play,” Derrick said. “But there comes a time to settle down.”

Those were the words he hated. Rashad raised his palms in desperation, then let them slam down on his thighs.

“Here we go again.”

“Just trying to school you the right way, baby brother,” Marcus said, backing up Derrick.

“What we mean—”

Rashad cut off Keith. He was the last one married and the least serious of the bunch about everything except his marriage.

“No, we’re not going there today. And you, brother of mine, are the last one who should be talking about being serious.”

His other brothers cracked up, which was not quite what Rashad had intended.

“We’re not on me today,” Keith said, almost pouting. He added, “Thank heavens.”

Rashad stood as Trevor, Marcus’s partner, opened the door and came inside.

“I have to get on it,” Rashad said. “I have to make it to Old Town Alexandria from here in rush hour traffic. Hey, Trevor.” He greeted the other man with a brief hug. “You taking my place tonight?”

“Apparently so.”

Marcus got up from behind his desk and came over to them, first hugging his partner hello then clapping Rashad on the back and pulling him in for a similar hug goodbye. Derrick got up from his chair and Keith from the sectional, and both also came over to hug Rashad.

“I’m sorry I can’t make it tonight, you guys. We don’t get together enough.”

“Hey,” Derrick said, “Thanksgiving is next month, and I think the next game is before that.”

Rashad and Keith did their thing, a brief hug and then a smacking of closed fists.

“I’ll see you all then,” Rashad said. “If not before.”

He left his brother’s firm and made it to his meter before it expired.

His brothers had riled him, but they also had him thinking. Tonight was actually something of a date (though he would never say that to his brothers), and he didn’t know if he needed to say something to Michelle about not getting too serious. It was generally the first thing out of his mouth—just so they couldn’t point fingers later—but it hadn’t even occurred to him to say anything to Michelle. But then he’d thought she was married. Now that he knew she wasn’t, he still didn’t want to say anything. He didn’t want to chance chasing her away.

Something about her just set him at ease with himself. Yet she wasn’t what he thought his ideal would be. He imagined a sleek, sexy, manicured professional type—a corporate lawyer in a tight-fitting skirt done up to the nines, assertive and in control but his (and only his) playmate. He’d had that fantasy since he was a teenager, hence the model types that he’d dated. But none of them had shared his interests or even his thoughts.

Michelle, on the other hand, sparked something inside him. He thought about her, waited for her email saying that she could stay late after class—which had finally come two days ago. It was the way her energy filled his car on the ride home, or the way he fantasized about her curves. She was beautiful, but not in a sleek, manufactured way. There was some fire to her, but there was also a sweetness about her, an unassuming quality.

He reached the Torpedo Factory Art Center without coming to any resolution and smiled when he saw her beat-up Ford Fiesta in the lot as he pulled in. Yes, there was something about this woman.

He didn’t know quite what it was or what to do about it, and he didn’t have time to figure it out right then, so he would let come what might.

He found her already there when he entered the classroom, and took his usual seat next to her.

“Did you still need a map to get here?”

“Don’t start with me,” she said, but then she chuckled and nodded her head. “Did you finish your homework?”

“Of course. And here I am with it, even though I’m missing a Redskins game with my brothers.”

“Redskins?”

Rashad couldn’t suppress his laughter, and other students in the class turned to look. He wanted to let them in on it, but he couldn’t stop the laughter, so he just waved them away. When he could catch his breath, he turned back to Michelle.

“You don’t know who the Redskins are?”

“I told you I don’t follow sports. But has anybody thought about this name?”

Rashad chuckled more, but he could control the volume this time.

“I’m glad I amuse you,” Michelle said. Then she put her hand on her hip and moved her head back and forth, getting real. “But this laughter at my expense has got to end.”

“I’m sorry. I am. And, yes, I’m sure that the name has been a subject of debate.”

Rashad was laughing again before he finished. After a firm look in his direction, Michelle joined in.

“Are we still on for tonight, or do you need to leave early to catch what you can of the game on television or something?”

“No, my brother-in-law got my ticket, and the game will show in reruns, so we’re on. I guess that’s the upside of missing the game. I don’t have to miss tonight with you.”

Michelle looked at him closely, perhaps judging his sincerity, but she didn’t reply. She shrugged her shoulders and mouthed the word okay.

That was enough—that and the way she looked tonight. Though she was sitting down, he could see that she didn’t have on her usual leggings or jeans. She had dressed a bit for tonight. Over what looked like a brown satin camisole, she had on a brown lace cover-up that fit close to her body and that went down to her thighs. She also had on brown palazzo pants that widened at the ankle, flaring out like a dress, and she had on low black heels. Instead of her usual sweater, a long, brown African mudcloth wrap hung on the back of her chair with her purse.

Her long hair had fresh curls at the ends, and a piece of material that matched her cover-up circled her head from her nape to her crown, ending in a neat knot above her left ear. If he was right, her face had a little extra makeup, as well, just enough so that he could see the extra care she’d taken.

It was enough to make Rashad look twice and value what he saw—a beautiful woman. He looked down at his standard white shirt and slacks and wished he’d done something else. At least he could grab his coat and tie from the car when they dropped off their portfolios.

“You look great tonight,” he whispered as the teacher walked in.

She smiled and turned to the front of the class, which was all on composition and started with a slide show. For their first drawing exercise, they had to create an arrangement with twenty abstract and unrelated objects. This focused his attention on the task at hand, even if part of his mind was waiting for it to be over.