Book #3 in the Medley Series
ZEKE MITCHELL:
With the World Championship in swimming approaching and our medley team in better condition than ever, nothing can stop us.
Expect, as the season starts, an old injury rears its ugly head again, potential...
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Aizza is sitting on my bed, allowing me to pace in front of my closet, frowning at the selection of clothes. I might only be able to take a few steps in each direction, but it's a pace nonetheless.
"Where are we going again?" I ask her.
I want to wear a dress. I haven't done so in a while since the change in temperature when I moved here shocked my system into believing we were in the dead of winter—though it's still only September.
I have always preferred dresses. They fit my figure nicely, and there are a million colors and patterns to experiment with. And they make me feel beautiful.
I try not to pay attention to other people's opinions. I've heard it all: I'm too fat, too Black, too opinionated.
It goes in one ear and out the other. The only viewpoint I concern myself with is my own.
"A club," Aizza responds, "Downtown.
I turn, watching as she applies a dark lipstick. "But you don't drink."
"No. But I do dance. It's a dance club."
Exhilaration shoots up my spine. I like dancing too. It's another of those things that have its own language. Going to clubs and getting lost in the music is an easy way to meet new people in a strange place.
With that in mind, I return my gaze to the closet. Shifting through my dresses, I pull out one of my favorites. It's been a while since I've worn it since it's too daring for Tanzania.
It's a mini dress with short sleeves, a v-neck, and a colorful, blurred floral print.
I hold it up for Aizza to see. Her lips curl in a smirk. "Oh, yes, that'll do nicely."
Once I've put on the dress, I let Aizza do my makeup, which she is incredible at. My eyes have a smoky, heady look, and my full lips are inviting if I say so myself.
She gets up from the bed and does last-minute checks on her outfit. She adjusts her hijab, pale blue today, to match the dark blue long-sleeved dress she's wearing.
My phone buzzes, and I grab it off the nightstand where it's charging.
Zeke: My meeting ends in thirty minutes. Want to do something tonight?
I wonder which kind of meetings take place in the evening on a Friday, but Zeke's schedule has always been unorthodox.
I glance up at Aizza. "Would you mind if a friend of mine joined us?"
"Ooh." Her eyes shine. "Is this the guy who's obsessed with his job and forgets that you exist?"
"Something like that."
"Sure. The more the merrier."
I smile, sending a text to Zeke, telling him where to meet us. Then Aizza and I head outside, slipping into her car.
