My Daughter's Boyfriend by Cydney Rax Page B

definitely can’t imagine Lauren not being in my life. So, in retrospect, I guess I can say it was worth it—just to have Lauren, it was.”
    “And her father? How does he fit into the picture these days?”
    “You should know the answer to that. You see how he keeps in touch with Lauren. You and Derrick have been around each other much more than you have been around me.”
    “Yeah, I’ve hung out with Mr. Hayes a little bit. He seems protective of Lauren, nice, but distant sometimes.”
    “That’s Derrick.”
    “I hope you aren’t offended when I ask this, but I take it Mr. Hayes used to be your type, but isn’t . . . anymore?” he said.
    I hesitated, but admitted, “You take it correctly.”
    At my revelation, Aaron’s eyes penetrated mine to the point that I felt outright uncomfortable. It seemed he was loosening up a bit and roles were being shifted. I didn’t know if I liked that or not. Wondered what it meant. Having no answers, I downed the remaining half-glass of lemon water, then signaled the waitress for two more glasses. Mouth felt that dry.
    “So, what kind of man is your type?”
    “Is there a reason for these questions, Aaron? Feels like I’m being interviewed.”
    He snickered like he enjoyed the fact he could do things that made me put up my defenses.
    “Say, Tracey. Dang, calling you that sounds so strange.”
    “Get used to it.”
    “Hmmm, okay. Like I was saying—what was I saying?”
    “Don’t know. You tell me.”
    “I don’t remember what I was going to say, but I will say this. I—I think you’re a highly attractive woman, you seem like a good person to talk to, and I think any guy who has you in his life should consider himself fortunate.”
    I thought about Steve and said, “I don’t know about all that,” and shifted in my seat.
    I swiped the menu from the center of the table and scanned it with such intensity that even if the ghost of Marvin Gaye floated in, I wouldn’t look up. I pulled the menu close to my eyes like I was nearsighted. But even while I was reading, I was wondering if Aaron was wondering about me. It seemed he’d go from being timid to aggressive, and his mood shifts intrigued me. Messed with me.
    I set down the menu.
    “Aaron, why would you say something like that about me? Why?”
    “Something like what? That you’re attractive?”
    “Yes, that.”
    “Uh, I don’t get it. What? You want me to lie to you? Tell you something that’s not true?”
    “Oh, so you’re saying you don’t lie?”
    “I’ll say I don’t make a habit of lying to a woman. Not if I can help it.”
    “That’s a lie right there.”
    We locked eyes. Mine misted. I don’t know if his eyes misted or not, but I know for a fact they stayed glued to my face. Felt strange to be scrutinized, yet I liked to be looked at by someone who was good to look at. I mean, most days I thought I looked as fine as Vivica A. Fox, but other days I felt I looked just okay, and I was always suspicious if a man told me I was
extremely
attractive. I wanted to believe him, but it was tough to accept a compliment at face value, no matter how great the words made me feel.
    When Aaron finally stopped staring, I noticed how his hair smelled so fresh and looked so moisturized. His fingernails were clean, and professionally manicured. And since mustaches are my weakness, I stared at the hairs above his top lip. Stared until I found my mind going there once more. My soul warned “no,” but my bold mind was uncooperative. Imagining. Wondering what would’ve happened if he hadn’t left my apartment that night. Could something have gone on between Aaron and me?
    Nah,
I thought.
I doubt it.
    Fantasizing is wonderful, and at this point that’s all it was, I reasoned, pure fantasy.
    We started eating our meal, and the conversation came to a temporary halt. He didn’t seem to mind the silence. Buried his face in his plate and put the “pig” in pigging out, chomping on food and smacking his lips.