BWWM Romance: Crossing The Line: Interracial Romance / Wealthy Love Interest

F
urtive glances
from across the room at a crowded banquet were reserved for movies and seedy soap operas, not for single graduate students who only showed up to these shindigs to avoid typing yet another paper. Frankly, Shawna was suspicious of that gaze. He kept looking, though, and even though Shawna tried to follow the path of his gaze to another woman―a buxom blonde or a bubbly brunette, perhaps―his eyes stayed on her.

Shawna's friend, Mikki, had unintentionally abandoned her. When you organize a party as big as the mayor's "For the Children Fundraising Gala," you don't get much time to enjoy it. There was work to be done and she refused Shawna's help, leaving Shawna stranded in a sea of tuxedos and ballroom gowns, champagne glasses and hors d’oeuvres trays. Elegant streamers made of off-white and soft pink fabric instead of paper rippled from the ceiling. Thick faux-candles lined the walls, their small light bulbs covered with Japanese lanterns. The golden light from the multiple chandeliers flooded the room with an ethereal glow as if the universe had dropped Shawna in the midst of a fairytale. There was something off about her prince, however.

Whenever Shawna got around to dating, in between reading large, expensive textbooks and writing long, unimportant, and even less interesting papers, she went for tall, sensually dark and as handsome as she could find. She liked smooth skin the color of rich mahogany or coffee with the slightest trace of cream. Deep, throaty laughs and heavy bass voices turned her on.

He was still cute.

For a white boy.

The way the dimples in his cheeks appeared whenever he smiled and was forced to look away from her long enough to reply to the people around him captivated her interest. His long, wavy, dirty-blond hair left something to be desired. He seemed trapped in a different time, one that the world had left behind long ago. But it suited him. At least he didn't have a bush on his face, just light stubble--something he may have missed rushing to get to the party. Whenever they traded places in their staring game, she caught him pulling at his jacket and bow tie. By what looked like light eyeliner surrounding his gray eyes and a spiked bracelet on his wrist, Shawna could tell that tuxedos probably weren't a normal part of his wardrobe.

"Shawna!" Mikki screeched Shawna's name from across the room and waved frantically for Shawna to follow her up the stairs. Shawna ducked her head as people looked around to see who Mikki was calling. The bright blue dress Shawna borrowed from Mikki drew enough attention for the evening. And since Mikki was more than a couple sizes and a few curves smaller than Shawna, the dress hugged, snugged, and bugged. She wiggled the hem back down towards her knees and off her round ass. While everyone else wore sweeping, dramatic numbers, with long trains and flashy necklines, Shawna felt like she was trapped between her high school prom and a middle school ice cream social.

"Maybe that's what he's staring at," she mumbled, dodging a tray of devilled eggs.

"Shawna, I wanted to introduce you to Franklin," Mikki said, motioning toward the medium-built black man next to her. He smiled, offering his hand, and kissed the back of Shawna's hand when she reached it out. His hazel eyes held hers, foregoing the invasive eye-fucking most guys confused for flattery. "Franklin is from Baltimore, likes cars, earned his bachelor's degree in biochemistry, and cries during movies."

"It's . . . nice to meet you," Shawna said. Her gaze shifted from Franklin to Mikki and back to Franklin. Mikki’s makeup was perfect, her skin the color of warm sand and scented with perfume, her eyes big and bright. With her long neck and oval cheeks, she looked vaguely Egyptian and all woman. In Shawna’s experience, most men flocked to Mikki, and Mikki usually flocked back. She didn't just give good men away like an extra concert ticket. Mikki not only kept men, she collected them, saving them for whatever event they were most suitable for. Franklin looked like he would have fit right in with the rest of her beaus. Was it the crying? How bad was this crying?

"I saw you while I was helping Mikki set up for the silent auction. I hope the gods bless her for this introduction. I don't know if I could've made it otherwise."

"I see."

The hairs on the back of Shawna's neck stood and she reflexively rolled her shoulders. His large, warm hands wrapped around hers and he tilted his head to hold her gaze. Shawna gave a small laugh, feeling a little distracted.

"I would love to take you out some time. Get to know you."

"Uhhh, yeah. Sure. That sounds great!"

"I knew you two would hit it off," Mikki said, before bouncing away. Her lavender dress swished around her slim hips and her heels clicked loudly on the hardwood floor.

"I have to go help in the kitchen, but I got your number from Mikki. I'll call you?"

"Yeah . . ."

Franklin gave Shawna's hands an affectionate squeeze before turning back toward the chaos. Shawna looked over her shoulder at where her other admirer had been, but he was nowhere to be found. Her heart sank even though she didn't know why. He wasn't her type.

P
rocrastination never failed
to get the best of her, Shawna thought as she clicked through Wikipedia in hopes of finding more resources for her paper. The library was closed and she had to be at work in an hour. The paper was due the next day and she just knew that by the end of the night she'd be a puddle of intellectual mud. She couldn't pretend to be sick and cruise past due dates the same way she had done during her undergrad years. When her professors said they wanted her paper, they meant it. She suspected that at least half of them actually read the words she painstakingly linked together. One year, in her undergrad days, she had given up in the middle of several paragraphs and her composition professor gave her all of the points. It’s all in the introduction, a friend used to tell her. Sound smart for two paragraphs and you’ve got ‘em. It was harder now.

Her phone chirped at her and Shawna had half a mind to throw it out the window.

"I'm bringing you a new outfit for your date. You owe me $263," Mikki announced.

"I don't have $263!"

"Whatever. I'll just add it to your tab."

Shawna rolled her eyes and switched the phone to a different ear. "I don't even need a new outfit –"

"Whatever, Child-of-the-90s. I've been trying to update your wardrobe for months. The last thing you need to do is show up anywhere wearing shoulder pads."

"I could've gone shopping myself. He hasn't even called me."

"That's okay," Mikki said. "I called him. He'll be there at eight."

"Tonight?"

"Yep."

Shawna laid a barrage of obscenities into Mikki's ear, but her best friend didn't seem concerned about her papers or schoolwork. Shawna could practically feel Mikki shrug through the phone. It wasn't the first time Mikki had taken liberties with Shawna's schedule. Even though they had been friends since high school, Shawna wasn't used to it yet. Mikki had a horrible habit of signing Shawna up for random events, making promises on her behalf, and ignoring her prior engagements for whatever she deemed more important. At the same time, if it weren't for Mikki, Shawna would probably still be a quiet bookworm hiding in a library somewhere reading about first kisses instead of having one of her own.

"You sound like you need to take a break anyway. I'll be there in a half."

Shawna slammed her laptop closed. Reaching up, she touched the mess of her hair. She had slept on it and didn't bother taking a comb to it all day. One of her few ultimatums about her personal appearance she had made with Mikki was that Shawna wouldn’t straighten her hair. She embraced her natural tresses. To take off her thick afro puff would be like cutting off her arm. A crown goddess braid was elegant enough to match whatever hoochie outfit Mikki managed to find.

Shawna had to admit that Mikki was right. She did need a break. As she stared at the black surface of her computer, loathing even the sound of clacking keys beneath her fingertips, she considered taking a lengthy break after the term ended. Her parents stressed the importance of school to the point where Shawna barely had any of social life. She went right into college from high school and straight to grad school after college. Some of her friends took time to travel, build careers, and have families. But after she had received three first-generation scholarships and a fellowship awarded by the NAACP, to do anything other than study would have been like spitting in their eyes.

"I'm going on this date," she said. "And I'm going to have a good time."

M
ikki let herself in
. Shawna glanced towards the bathroom door as she sat on the side of the tub shaving her legs. Mikki had a key to everything and didn't ask for permission to go anywhere or do anything. The world was her oyster and she tackled it in full-fledged carpe diem mode.

"Let me do that for you," she said, putting the shopping bags down on the floor and hanging Shawna's new dress up on the hook anchored to the back of the door. She stepped out of her shoes and sat against the opposite wall of the tub with one naked foot in the warm water. Shawna handed her the razor and sat back, staring at the dress. The blue and black panels sat crisply side-by-side. The hem looked short enough to stop mid-thigh.

Mikki repositioned Shawna's leg, her hands soft, deft and completely familiar, and finished shaving the vertical strip of shaving cream.

"Why did you call him?" Shawna asked.

"Because I knew that he would forget and that you would let him," Mikki mumbled. She slid the razor smoothly across Shawna's skin and stroked the freshly shaved parts of her legs with her free hand. "You need to give love a chance."

Shawna waited until the razor was safely out of reach before she asked her next question. "So, why didn't you take Franklin?"

"He's not my type."

"They're all your type."

"I'm not his type."

Shawna rolled her eyes and sucked her teeth. "You're everyone’s type."

"That's not true," Mikki said, frowning. Her pretty, oval face held a pair of cat-shaped, hazel-green eyes, a straight nose and perfectly arched eyebrows. Her high cheekbones and full lips were the kind of features that won magazine covers. Not to mention her ability to slip into a dazzling weave without breaking a sweat. Shawna had never seen Mikki have a bad hair day.

"Plus," Mikki said, as if she had read Shawna's mind, "I think you're beautiful." She reached out and untwisted the chain of Shawna's necklace.

"Thanks."

S
hawna had barely shimmied
into the dress and slipped on a tall pair of black pumps when there was a knock. Shawna opened the door and stared right into the chest of her date, who towered over her by a good foot and a half. His wide shoulders took up the expanse of the doorway and he smelled of a delicious mixture of aftershave and leather. Shawna raised her eyes to the handsome, dark face and smiled. “Hi, there.”

Franklin presented Shawna with a single, long-stemmed red rose. He wore a black leather jacket over a white button-down, and well-fitted, black slacks with a gray pinstripe. He moved out of the doorway and offered Shawna the crook of his elbow. Blinking, Shawna took it and looked briefly over her shoulder as she closed the door. Mikki wiggled her long, well-manicured fingers at her.

Shawna couldn’t help but be suspicious of the handsome man on her arm as he opened the passenger door to a champagne-colored Audi and waited for her to slide into the soft, leather interior before closing the door behind her. Smooth R&B came through the speakers quiet as a whisper once he turned over the engine. Shawna stared at the side of his face – at his well-groomed goatee and fresh haircut. He smiled and asked Shawna to put on her seatbelt as he pulled away from the curb.

Mikki was a sweetheart and would do anything for her sister from another mister, but that didn’t erase the fact that Mikki looked out for Mikki first. The fact that she didn’t keep this fine cut of man for herself sent sirens blaring in Shawna’s head. Mikki would never put Shawna in any danger, but the situation smelled fishy.

The parking lot at Harvey’s held wall-to-wall cars and Shawna couldn’t be happier to be in a crowded place after a nearly silent car ride full of bashful glances shared over the center console. Franklin took Shawna’s quiet demeanor and reclaimed personal space in stride. He kept opening doors and pulling out chairs.

“You are a quiet chick,” he said finally, after they ordered.

“I’ve heard that before.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that. Just making an observation. What are you into?”

“I . . .” Shawna stuttered. She started and stopped the same sentence three times. “I’m sorry. Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“What are you doing here?”

Franklin coughed into his water and put the glass down. “I’m sorry?”

“I don’t want to sound like an asshole or anything, but Mikki . . . is pretty and single.”

Franklin nodded. “And? You’re pretty. I hope you’re single.”

“Like I said, I don’t want to come off like that.”

“She said you were a little uptight. That’s okay, though. I got you.”

Shawna traced a wrinkle on the tablecloth. Franklin reached over and put his warm hand over hers. “There’s nothing going on between Mikki and me. She’s not my type.” Franklin stroked the back of her hand with his thumb and held her gaze with his large, deep brown, bedroom eyes. He licked his lips and mentally undressed Shawna.

“Nuh-uh,” Shawna said, taking her hand back. “Nah, nah, nah. What’s going on?”

“You don’t believe that Mikki isn’t my type?”

“I’m saying something don’t add up.”

“What are you scared of? You gonna give me a chance to get to know you or what? I am here for you. I am out here because Mikki described you.”

“I’m sorry. I’m trippin’.”

“It’s all good. Don’t worry about it.”

Shawna rolled her shoulders with a renewed dedication to relaxation and having a good time. She didn’t have a long history of relationship failures. It just happened to be a short history with a lot of explosive breaks. Her trust in men was fractured, to say the least, and it didn't take long for her distrust to rear its ugly head. They weren't even a half hour into the date and she had already broken her promise to herself to have a good time.