"Flirting is a promise of sexual intercourse without a guarantee."
― Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being

"Lori's my first love. My first everything. Becoming a deputy is a choice, and my mother has been fully supportive of Lori and me living together. My mom has always wanted a daughter and for me to follow my dreams. My Dad, on the other hand, remains adamant that I get a few things out of my system. One of them being Lori and the other, law enforcement. He wants me to date other women and follow in his footsteps. He still believes that Shane and I were switched out at birth. We share the same month, day, year, and hospital stay, Shane and I."

"Wow! So, you've been with Lori for how long?" I had asked sitting on my kitchen counter next to my fruit basket that Rick had caught me swiping from the front of someone's apartment door. I had winked at him and kept it moving. Best fruit ever. Expensive, free and sweet.

"Over nine years." He responded.

"She's a fool."

"How so?"

"After nine years and you are still not married? Not a good sign if you were to ask any sane person for their take. I was with my ex for four, and it was foolish. Time wasted. Mostly. Mostly not." I shrugged.

"Technically, I don't care what other people think. I do what I want, and I have been doing what I want." He responded adamantly.

"I'm calling it now. You are so not going to marry her, and I hope she kicks your ass for having wasted her time. I mean, I would."

"You would what?"

"Kick your ass."

"Did you fight the guy you spent four years with?"

"I would have if he had me believe he wanted to get married. My guy didn't want to get married, and I bounced. Simple. I wasn't completely delusional. White women are very outer space in their thought process, evident with waiting nine damn years to find out she still isn't going to walk down the aisle anytime soon or at least not with you." I was strangely overly confident.

"Not true."

"Bet. 200.00?"

"Bet?"

"I am feeling lucky. I am going to be 200.00 short on the rent and winning this bet would be such a relief, you have no idea."

"You are already late with the rent. Tomorrow I will have to put the eviction notice up."

"Not if I win that bet."

"I'm not planning on getting married to Lori tomorrow."

"Pay up."

"What?"

"Really, do you see yourself married to the same person you've dated since high school, though? Wait, you are a typical white male who has to have his perfect girlfriend with an anorexic body that she will fight to maintain after having your 2.5 kids. You will wake up one day and realize you have more of an imagination you have never given your self credit for or a chance to utilize. Trust me. I know about these things."

"Are you finished?"

"Yes."

He was surprised at what I had said. He searched my eyes for his own way to bridge his own question about my personal situation. I watched the subtle hues that slightly lit his skin.

"I sense there is a loaded question that even you can't seem to form, and once you figure it out, I wonder if I will be as uncomfortable as you are in responding to me."

"My mother has already told me."

I felt violated, and his response was too callous for my liking. This bit of knowledge only increased my hate and distrust of the landlord, his mother, Ms. Ella.

"Not surprised."

"She told me to beware of you and your accusations of faulty pipes. She said anything else I would have to learn on my own."

"Pipes?" I was surprised.

"Yeah. I can tell you have been tinkering around with it."

"You can?" I couldn't hide my fake amazement, which seemed to amuse him.

Somehow he was becoming more attractive and exciting than I had ever originally had given credit. I think it had more to do with his stance in my kitchen. The way he cocked his head to the side, or the nervous tic he had with his hands.

"Your mother owns these expensive apartments. Your Dad is the CEO of Go Stop, and you wanna play cops and robbers? Are you a pipe detective accusing me of tampering?"

"You have been tampering. You haven't denied it."

"I don't have the tools to tamper."

"I'm quite sure you are resourceful."

My adrenaline was high, as was my self-awareness when looking directly into his eyes. He had long finished the issue I had with my dishwasher and the garbage disposal without once seeming like he had anywhere he needed to be or other business to attend.

"Have you ever been with a black woman?"

"No. Why do you ask?"

"Have you ever thought about it?"

"No."

His lie caused me to verify his response by glancing down at the noticeable bulge in his pants.

"Doesn't mean I have anything against it." His excuse to what was evident. "Why are you asking me a hundred questions? Do you like white guys?"

"Ninety-nine percent of the time, no. You are probably the only one I would make an exception for."

"You are the only black woman I have ever stumbled upon to be so forward."

"Do you want an apple?" I took a bite of the apple I grabbed from the fruit basket.

The apple was in between my teeth and lips. I didn't expect him to step forward and take it from me. I had no idea why he did, but he did. I knew instinctively that once he swallowed we would be lip-locked without any fruit barrier between us as a choking hazard.

"I was offering you an apple from the basket," I whispered.

"Oh."

A/N: CORRECTIONS MADE.