Tied By The Beast (girlxintersex)

Chapter

Chapter 4

Inaya POV

Flashback

I'd never been on a date before, or at least I assumed she wanted to take me on a date, or was I making it up? I sighed and looked down at the number. There is no name to call her. But I hope she remembers my name. I started wondering how many females she'd handed a black card with a white print number and no name.

It was too early to say whether I was a particular asset. It was too early to consider other ladies she may be speaking with. I double-checked my room door to ensure it was closed.

My mother was not a huge supporter of her daughters going on dates or even going out at all, unless it benefited her.

The phone didn't ring in my ears for long before her husky voice came over the line. Her breathing touched my ear, giving me the impression that I was in her presence.

"Hel-Hello." I wasn't sure how to introduce myself. I wasn't sure if she was genuine about calling the number or if she had simply handed it to me so she could get away from our awkward talk.

"I was awaiting your phone call, Inaya."

Shivers went through me like a single flame that moved upward.

I was certain it was the grove in her voice, which did not waver during the conversation.

"How do you know my name?" How did she know it was me? My voice was definitely not that special. It did not sound like a Divine whisper. It sounds more like a fledgling bird attempting to sing its first melody.

"I've told you already."

I couldn't lay a finger on whether Fatima had ever said my name, and if she had, it wasn't mine. I recall her calling me a bitch. But not my name.

"I don't know your name."

"You could've merely investigated who owns Better Mart grocery and mall, and you would've seen my face and name."

I groaned, realizing how foolish I was. But then I understood that part of me did not think she owned anything. She did not appear so. I was judging her. My mother raised me to judge based on first impressions.

As my eyes closed, I recalled her clothing code. She didn't appear like a businesswoman; she looked like a street thug. I couldn't tell if her tattoo was of a gang or jail, but they were extremely lovely. Excellent description on her skin. I will attempt to get a better look next time.

"I'm not a stalker, so I wouldn't Google something like that." My tongue clicked when I spoke.

"You wouldn't. You appear to be an inquisitive little thing."

"Am I?" Who wasn't inquisitive in this terrible world? My father's death continues to pique my interest. Why did he put the pistol to his head? Because placing a pistol to your head was not as simple as it appeared in the movies.

"Did you pick a place for us to complete our conversation?"

"Why can't we chat on the phone?"

"How would you satisfy your curiosity?"

She was a walking curiosity, and I was quite interested by her. I am curious about the appearance of her eyes. But what if I saw her and she still had her eyes covered? I'll have to see her till I see that side of her.

"I don't know many places."

"Is that an excuse not to see me, Inaya?"

"Oh no, what about the park?" It wasn't crowded, and it wasn't likely that someone I knew would see me there.

"Today?" I requested. If she was such a businesswoman, I'm sure she didn't have time to meet with me.

"Around five in the evening when it's still light out, I want to see your face again."

My face? Was she sure she wanted to see my face, which resembled a child painting a face? I don't enjoy calling myself ugly; it makes me feel ugly. But in many occasions, I was termed ugly rather than lovely. Nothing about me stands out.

I didn't appreciate the fact that nothing should. I didn't have a modeling body, or a body at all. I still looked like I was going through puberty. God, my breasts were essentially flat on my chest, and I had to wear a push-up bra to make them 'pop'.

"You're interested in me?" It was a question rather than a statement. Because why would she want to see me, only to conclude a story?

"Is something wrong. You are an interesting character."

"Oh, I'm a book." I grinned.

"Maybe you're in a novel. Do you believe you are, Inaya?"

"Sometimes." And something tells me that my happy ending isn't coming soon.

***********

I almost didn't recognize her since I was looking for her bang of black hair strands that were draped across her face, hiding her eyes. I wasn't in my right mind either, since it wasn't until her hand came into touch with mine that I realized I'd fled my house, with no one knowing where I was or why I was even out the door.

However, she claimed to have a supermarket and a mall, which I have yet to investigate. Despite her inky black arms, I was confident she had a reputation here. She dressed similarly to the previous day.

"Are you certain you're not a chef? You appeared to have it covered the other day." She said. I still had no idea what her name was. However, she never said that she would inform me. Perhaps I should have looked up that supermarket on Google.

"My mom raised me in the kitchen. But this doesn't imply I can cure a charred steak or anything." We both laughed. I didn't tell her about the part where my sister and I fought like titans and Olympians every day for the title of 'the best daughter,' which was only transitory. Only for the day. The next day, we have to fight again.

"Do you like to cook?"

"Perhaps you'll see one day." She stated this as she turned to face me from the bench. "Next time, I'd like it to be dinner or lunch." She said. I nodded, but I still don't know her name. The only thing that piqued my interest was the unusual hue of her eyes, which seemed like two people living in the same body. For about five minutes, I couldn't take my eyes off her. Her left eye was light brown, while the other was bleached blue.

I believe she was a rare human.

"I have a lot of stocks to check out, so I'm sorry I can't stay longer or even eat ice cream with you."

I looked around, but there was no ice cream truck.

There wasn't much life in the park; only a few folks jogging by us to the track through the small forests. I assumed that the silver chrome sports vehicle was her. Her name is written all over it. Not in the literal sense.

I decided to put my pride aside and try to learn her name without having to monitor her social media and Google photographs. One of the reasons I didn't go scooping there was because I didn't want to see anything I shouldn't have, despite the fact that it was in the open media. I want to have a favorable opinion about her.

"You still haven't told me your name."

"I thought you researched it."

"I have not."

"When I meet you for lunch or dinner, I'll tell you. Heck, sometimes I don't even remember my name." She grinned and opened the car door. "Do you need a ride?"

"No." I didn't know her name, therefore I wasn't going to get into her car.

"Your parents have taught you well, because if you had come in, I would have abducted you."

I laughed uncomfortably.

"Just kidding. Guilty." She winked. My brow wrinkled; this wasn't the kind of joke you tell a stranger. But I'd have to trust her not to kidnap me in the future. Because I knew I would get inside that car one way or another.