Page 35 of Terms of the Flight

“Okay! I’ll be right back.”

I stood from the table, then grabbed my bags by the door and went to my room to get comfortable. I knew I was going to need this, because my life was getting ready to become very different.

a week later…

I leanedback into the seats of the truck. It seemed like being in the backseat of a truck was becoming my second home. I was juggling my responsibilities to my shops and the bank. It seemed like everyone knew I was busy as hell at the other and wanted to make sure my workload was equal on both sides.

I’d been able to talk to Khaleya a few times, just so our stories were straight. At least that was the excuse I used. I just liked to talk to her, if I was being real. Whenever we talked, I couldn’t help but laugh or smile. She didn’t have a single filter in place.

The thought of her made me smile. Just as the thought passed through my mind, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I reached in and pulled it out to Khaleya sticking her tongue out at me. It was a picture I’d taken on one of our FaceTime calls this week, and I quickly made it her contact photo.

I knew if she knew I hadn’t accidentally pushed the picture button and what I was using it for, that she would be talking shit. To be honest, I was looking forward to hearing her mouth about it. Doll was a natural shit talker.

I quickly answered before the FaceTime call went to voicemail.

“What’s up, Doll?” I asked.

She was close in the camera. Her lips were lined with brown and a gloss over top. I could tell she’d even done something different with her curly hair. She had some sort of twist pattern in the front and two braids hanging down by her temple, with a few wooden beads adorning them.

I widened my legs a bit to give my dick room. She looked beautiful as fuck. I could tell she’d even done her makeup. She stood up and stepped away from the camera until I could see her full body. She had on a satin brown skirt that fell down above her ankles a bit, and a turquoise and brown patterned long-sleeve sheer shirt. It looked like she put on a solid brown or cream T-shirt beneath it.

I ran my tongue over my full bottom lip as I made sure I didn’t miss a single detail.

“What do you think? You think your mom is going to like it?” she asked.

I held my hand up to where she could see it and did a spinning gesture. She smiled and gripped her hips, then did a 360. I bit my lower lip as her full round ass made its presence known. It was almost as if she’d gone out and gotten this skirt made just for her.

“Big, answer me. You’re making me nervous,” she groaned.

“What did I tell you about that Big shit? I watched that episode ofSex and the City, and that old-ass man don’t look or act nothing like me.”

She burst into laughter, bent over, gripping her knees, like I’d said the funniest shit in the world.

“I never told you you looked like that, man. You came up with that on your own, and the day you stop calling me Doll will be the day I stop calling you Big.”

I smirked, then kissed my teeth.

“You don’t really want me to stop calling you Doll. So I don’t know why you said that. If I’d called you Khaleya when I picked up this phone, you would have been staring upside my head.”

She rolled her eyes and gave me a tight-lipped smile.

“Whatever you say, Big. Now tell me, is this okay? Because in a minute I’m not going to give a damn, and your mama is going to accept me as is.”

I shrugged. “You’re the finest damn thing I’ve ever seen. But you already knew that. Be yourself. It’s not going to matter if you came in draped in the finest labels. If she doesn’t vibe with you, then she doesn’t. But I know you’re going to do just fine.”

She released a visible sigh and walked out of the frame to grab something.

“If you say so. Well, I guess I’m ready. Did you give your parents my dietary restrictions?” she asked.

I rubbed the back of my neck and squinted. I couldn’t remember a single thing about any dietary restrictions. So I wasn’t sure what the hell she was talking about, but I didn’t want to say that aloud. It would only make her feel like I wasn’t listening, when really I’d just been busy as hell.

Khaleya walked back into the frame, holding a bottle of champagne closer to the camera.

“Do your parents drink this kind of champagne? I figured, who doesn’t drink mimosas? Not to mention, I didn’t want to come empty-handed.”

“Doll, I don’t know what kind of champagne those folks are drinking, and what dietary restrictions are you talking about?You didn’t give me any. What are you allergic to? I can text the chef now and make sure everything is cool.”

Her brow lifted at my question.