Girls Need Love

Chapter 6

"Mom, I'm trying."

"Just add the cheese now, Amari." I huff as I pour the poorly chopped onions into the pot. If it’s one thing I absolutely could not do, it was cook.

And it’s not because my mom never taught me, because she tried, mercilessly. But I’m telling you, there was something wrong with me.

“Add the cheese!” She yells again, and I hastily run to the fridge. I today I was making macaroni and cheese with ground beef.

I had to use my laptop to call her via Skype, because Tristan is yet to buy my a new phone.

“Child,” my mother lets out a loud shaky sigh, and I whimper. I aggressively turn off the stove, barely containing a temper tantrum.

I have no idea why the beef was turning green, and the macaroni, after 30 minutes, is still as hard as rocks.

“I’m just going to order some food,” I tell her, grabbing my home phone.

“Please do that, for your sake, and mine.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

I ignore my mother currently trying to make fun of me, and order some dinner from Olive Garden. Their food wasn’t that great, but for some reason I really wanted some pasta tonight.

“Oo, Amari, I gotta go.”

“Wait, what? No,” my upper body sags as I pout at my mom.

“You were supposed to be my Netflix buddy for tonight,” I whine. She’s distracted, staring at something in her room. She giggles, ending the call without even telling me bye.

Wow.

Pathetically, I plop on my couch, turning on Netflix. I wish I had my phone so I could maybe call up a booty call at least, but no.

“Dang it,” I had no idea what to watch, and everything seemed so boring.

My doorbell rings, and I naturally assume that it’s my food. Without looking in the keyhole, I pull my door open.

“You’re not what I ordered,” I frown, and Tristan gives me a weird look.

“I’m sorry? Did you hire a p********e or something?”

“That’s funny,” I laugh dryly, “why are you here?”

“Brought you this,” He pokes out a phone into my direction and I happily take it. It was an iPhone X, a major upgrade from what I had.

“Finally. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. I’m sorry if I took too much time.”

“It’s fine,” I wave it off and he continues standing in front of me.

“Anything else?” I ask and he chuckles.

“That’s cold, you’re not going to invite me in?”

I shrug, “fine.”

I step aside letting him walk past me, but I only bought food for myself.

“Oo, we ordered food?”

“I ordered food.” I correct him as he continues walking in, looking around. He does that awkward thigh pat before find his way into the living room, I roll my eyes.

“What did you order?”

“Olive Garden.” He wrinkles his nose.

“Couldn’t you have gotten some pizza? Maybe a sub?”

“Well, I wasn’t feeling for any pizza or subs.” I take a seat near him and he pulls out his phone.

“Well I need a sub,”

“I’m sorry, I think you’ve misunderstood. I thought you were going to glance and go.”

“No, I much rather keep you company tonight. We can hop on tinder too, if you’d like.”

“You’re just filled with jokes today, aren’t you?”

He cheeses at me, and I snort.

Tristan leans forward to remove his jacket, and I subtly try to look at his muscle flex with his movements.

“Why didn’t you at least go home to change? You’re still wearing dress shoes . . . on my carpet.”

“Oh, don’t worry my shoes are clean. Always.”

“Right.”

“And I live about an hour from here, so I don’t think I’d come back if I left.”

“Well, suit yourself. I have nothing for you to wear here.”

“Eh,” he shrugs his shoulders, “I’ll survive.”

We continue to sit in silence for the first few minutes, me simply scrolling through Netflix and still finding absolutely nothing. In fact, it was harder now that he was here.

“You know what,” I shove the remote in his direction as the doorbell rings again, “go ahead and choose.”

I stand up to get my food, and grab a bottle of water for myself.

“Do you want anything to drink?”

“Not yet.”

I saw that he picked Good Girls on Netflix, his arms stretched out above my couch, his freakishly long legs draped across my carpet. It was a weird sight.

I never really brought any of my conquests here, and if I did, it was because of a booty call.

I sit next to him again, but this time it was even more awkward. I had food, and he didn’t. I felt like a pig just eating next to him, and silently prayed for his food to arrive sooner.

The answer to my prayers arrive seven minutes later and then the discomfort disappeared when Tristan returned with a box of pizza and a soda.

“You went in my fridge?”

“Yes,” he replies boldly. His shoes were now off, revealing pure black socks.

The smell of his pizza had my mouth watering, and I suddenly no longer felt like eating boring ass pasta.

Good girls played in the background, but all I could hear was the cheese pulling from his teeth, the toppings slowly falling onto the box from the pizza, the soft crunch of the crust.

And then the laughter.

Snapped out of my daze, I embarrassingly clean my throat, averting my eyes quickly as Tristan laughs.

I felt like a child caught red handed.

I quickly open up my container, and stab the pasta with my fork.

“If you want a slice, all you have to do is ask.”

“If I wanted one, I would’ve asked.” I told him stupidly. He shrugs at me, facing forward again and I noticed that he only had two slices left.

Mm.

My nerves spiked as I watched him devour the last piece of the one he was eating, and then reached for another one.

One left.

All I had to do was as —

Wait a minute, this was my house.

I grab the last slice before he could, and he stifles a laugh again.

“If pride could kill, you’d be dead.”

I let out a grunt, simply because I couldn’t cRw enough to answer right now.

“Anyway, let’s get down to biz,” he pulls out a notepad, and I knit my eyebrows together.

“What’s your type?”