Delgano: A Dark Contemporary Interracial Romance

“I’ll clean up when we’re done.” Something fell. “Don’t worry about whatever that was.”

“At least let me help.”

Her fingers brushed his.

He handed her the bags of treats.

While she worked on the bags, he took the plug to what he remembered was the nearest outlet. Matching up the prongs took so long that by the time the machine was plugged in, she’d finished setting the snacks in the bowls around the hot pot in the middle of the appliance.

“Marshmallows,” she said, and it sounded like she had at least three stuffed in her cheeks. “Graham crackers. Let’s see, what is this one? Pretzels—salty and sweet. I like, I like. No fruit? You’re really not a fruit and chocolate or fruit and coffee kind of person, are you?”

“Nope,” he said, making his way back over. “There should also be mini waffles.”

Something crunched. “Did you make these?”

“Only the waffles. Everything else, I purchased. I have people to run errands for me now.”

“Look at you. Moving on up like The Jeffersons.”

He took a seat on the floor. “Television show?”

“Yes. It’s kind of old, and I’ve never seen it, honestly, but the expression has to do with the family moving to a ‘deluxe apartment in the sky…high…eye.’”

Laughing, he reached for a pretzel.

“Wait, I’m coming around there.” She crawled around the edge of the fondue station, bumping into his knee before settling next to him.

He tried to feed her a pretzel but wound up rubbing the salt like gloss all over her lips before it made its way into her mouth.

“Know what I was thinking recently?” she asked, munching. “If we’d met like normal people at work or school or wherever, maybe I’d be your girlfriend.”

“There’s no maybe,” he clarified.

“You would have asked me out?”

“Yes, I would have.”

Her fingers brushed his as she reached toward where he remembered her dumping the graham crackers. “What if I was a clingy boyfriend?” he asked. “And I mean so clingy that people will start asking for you like they’re trying to find out if I have you locked away.”

She snorted a laugh. “I might like that, though.”

“Yes, that’s true.” He grabbed another pretzel. “You did want me to slit your throat.”

“I was working through some things.”

“Clearly.”

They could be a couple, he decided. Nothing was stopping them, and it wasn’t like she had many options to choose from, not that he would have allowed it anyhow.

She edged closer. “I’ve been practicing some Portuguese.”

“Mmm, querida. Where is your mouth? I need it.”

He felt her rise onto her knees.

She kissed his ear.

Then, his chin.