Chances

T w e n t y-t h r e e

Serenity's POV

The Uber stops behind Tyson's blue motorcycle. I can't believe he's been on it in this cold weather. Men.

I thank the lady and step out into the whipping wind. I pull my scarf over my tight bun and walk to the front door. Before I make it the garage door rises. I stop and wait for it to lift completely before walking into the open door. I close press the garage button and close the door behind me. I turn directly into Tyson's chest.

He grabs my arms to steady me, pulling me closer.

"Sorry Ma, you got here okay?" he asks. I nod while looking into his dark eyes. He smiles and lifts my chin for a deep, slow kiss. It makes me dizzy like all of his kisses do. "You hungry?"

"I need to actually see you cooking to believe you," I say smugly. He suckz his teeth and leads me deeper into his kitchen. The smell of chicken and gravy penetrates my nose. "Oh."

On the stove, there's smothered chicken in a large pan. A pot behind it holds mashed redskin potatoes, and another is covered with a top.

"What's that?" I ask.

He lifts the top and a cloud of steam erupts, letting the smell of garlic seep out.

"Green beans, Aunt G would kill me for not having anything green on my plate." he chuckles.

I smile. "So where is she? Or did you pick this up from her house earlier?"

I shrug off my jacket and he takes it from me, along with my purse.

"Haha. Nah she taught me how to cook though," he says. "Sit down, it's ready."

I sit on the island and watch him make our plates. A timer goes off on his phone and he clicks it off. He opens the oven and pulls out a tray of rolls.

He gives each of us two and turns around to hand me my plate.

"Ight, you gotta taste it first obviously." he flips his locs over his shoulder.

I stab a forkful of chicken while he makes intense eye contact with me.

"You gotta stop that if you want me to be serious," I say.

"Stop what? Reading your soul? I have to, you like to lie." he leans closer.

I burst out laughing. "Me? Yeah, okay." I shake my head and taste the food.

Flavors dance on my tongue making me wiggle in my seat. He laughs. "Guess it's good." he shakes his head and joins me with his plate.

We eat in silence while I inhale the food.

I lean back in my chair after my second pakte seeking stuffed like a Thanksgiving turkey.

"How was your day?" he asks while collecting our plates. He takes them to the sink and starts to clean the rest of the kitchen.

"Eh, long. Had a meeting with Nike for a campaign I'm doing soon, and had two shoots. Why did they both go over by an hour?"

"Damn you been out all day son, grinding for real," he smirks while putting the food away in containers.

"You know me, always hustling," I mock the niggas on the internet.

"You stupid." he laughs.

"How was yours?" I ask.

He sighs. "Just another day man. I didn't hurt nobody though like you asked. Softy."

"My bad Scarface."

"You know it. They gone have to send S.W.A.T to get my ass."

He finishes up and takes me into the living room. Two blunts sit in the ashtray already. The lights are low and candles are lit.