Chevelle walked through the fruits and veggies section of the supermarket, searching unsuccessfully for tomatoes that didn't feel as hard as coconuts. That was the one thing—well, one of many things, actually—that Chevelle hated about living in the U.S.; the fruits and vegetables just did not taste right.

She didn't know whether it was the soil, the quality of care, or something else entirely that was causing all of America's plant life to suffer, but after her fateful experience five years ago (that, for her sake, we won't get into right now) Chevelle at least knew one thing: she would never eat another mango that hadn't been grown in Haiti's soft soil.

Shopping for these kinds of things always made Chevelle feel extra homesick, but nonetheless, she was pleased with how well her family had managed to 'haitify' their life in their five years here.

After passing the plums and peaches for a third time, Chevelle came to a stop. She was going in circles and not finding what she needed, and she wasn't sure who to ask. The store attendant had just pointed her towards those same coconut-hard tomatoes when she asked him, and so she was at a loss for options. Chevelle was ready to go look for her dad and tell him the bad news when a voice spoke from behind her.

"Hey, you."

Chevelle recognized the voice immediately, but she couldn't quite figure out where from. It felt familiar, and it sent a shiver down her spine as soon as it brushed her ears. And, friends, let me just say that the one thing Chevelle was not expecting, was to spin around and come face-to-face with the dazzling half-stranger she'd dreamt about the previous night, and so of course, that's exactly what happened.

Right there, in the flesh, standing next to the sad-looking Red Delicious apples, was Abel Seifu. He was looking at Chevelle with the most beautiful smile spread across his lips—like he was genuinely happy to have run into her and didn't care to try and hide it. Chevelle couldn't help but smile back.

"Abel."

She breathed out his name and allowed it to settle in the shallow space between them. "How are you?" she asked.

"I'm doing okay," Abel said with a shrug and a nod. "You know—considering."

Right. Considering his ex got married about twenty-four hours ago.

"You?"

Chevelle shrugged. "The same," she replied. "Maybe even slightly worse."

Abel raised an eyebrow. "Worse than last night?" he asked. "When your car got broken into?"

"I mean..." Chevelle looked up at him through her lashes. "That wasn't the only thing that happened last night."

Abel took in a sharp breath, but then he paused right as Chevelle thought he was going to speak. He seemed apprehensive, and for some reason that just made her want to be even bolder. "So...you had a good time then?" he asked.

"I already told you that I did."

Abel frowned. He wasn't sure if Chevelle was messing with him or not, because last night she had (quite bluntly) declined his offer to hang out again, and while it had stung in the moment, he let it be. Now she was telling him that she had, in fact, enjoyed their time together and she expected him to know what to do with this information? God, in his few months as a single man, Abel had forgotten just how confusing girls could be, but now it was all rushing back like a lost language, and he couldn't lie, he kind of enjoyed the whirlwind that came with having a girl in his life.

"My bad," he said, flashing Chevelle a grin and watching as her eyes flickered down to his lips. "I thought you were just being polite when you said that. You didn't seem to want to see me again."

"Well I wasn't," Chevelle assured him, reaching out and placing a hand on his bicep. Partly for his sake, but mostly for hers. She took a deep breath and allowed her mouth to settle into a smile. "I had a really, really good time with you, Abel," she said. "It's just that I'm only here for three more days. I didn't want to force it, you know?"

"Does this feel forced?"

Chevelle sighed. "Well, no, but—"

And then, in an ever so ironic 'fuck you!' from the universe, Chevelle's phone dinged and she looked down to see that it was her dad texting her to meet him at the checkout area. He was ready to leave.

Chevelle groaned loudly. "Damn, it's my dad," she said, looking up from her phone with a long sigh. She met Abel's gaze and held it, liking the way he looked at her with such intention in his eyes, and the way she wasn't afraid to look back at him with a challenge in her own. "I have to get going," she said.

Abel cocked his head to the side. "Again?" he asked, his voice teasing.

Chevelle nodded, rocking gently on her feet. "Sadly," she said. And then she remembered why she'd come to that section in the first place. "Fuck, I didn't even get the tomatoes!" She began typing a hasty text to her father. "He's going to get mad if he has to do it himself."

"Here, take these."

Abel extended his arm, holding out a clear plastic bag filled with soft and ripe-looking tomatoes that Chevelle was almost sure he didn't get at this market. All the ones she'd seen here had either been severely over or underripe, but Abel's looked perfect.

"I can't take those," Chevelle said. "You must've taken so long picking them out."

Abel shrugged. "You've got somewhere to be though, and I'm in no rush. Take them."

"Are you sure?"

Abel nodded and so Chevelle smiled and took the tomatoes with a surprising lack of reluctance, uttering out a string of 'thank you's as she placed them into her little cart. Her phone lit up again. It was another text from her dad that informed her he could see her from his spot in the checkout line. She looked over and saw him standing by his cart with a frown on his face as he eyed Abel.

"Okay...I really have to go now," Chevelle said, looking back at Abel. "Am I going to see you again though?"

Abel looked at her with both surprise and amusement as a wide grin made its way across his lips. "Are you doing anything tonight?" he asked.

Chevelle was about to respond with something witty yet flirtatious until she remembered that she already had some very mandatory plans. "Fuck," she groaned. "Midnight Mass."

Abel frowned. "What?"

"Midnight Mass," she repeated. "Like, at church. I have to go with my family tonight," she explained. "My parents make us go every Christmas."

"Oh..." Abel paused, thinking about how best to continue. "Well, we could always do something tomorrow?" he tried.

"Tomorrow's Christmas day, Abel."

He laughed in an attempt to mask his frustration at how the universe kept taunting him with this girl—bringing her just close enough for him to want more, only to take her away again. It was maddening.

"Okay, well I don't know," he said. "Why don't you just take my number, and if you end up having time, then text me. If not, then..." He shrugged, "It was really great meeting you, I guess. Maybe we'll bump into each other again next Christmas."

Chevelle nodded, chuckling lightly. "Maybe we will," she said, holding out her phone so that he could put in his number. When he was done, he gave her one last smile which she returned. "It was really great meeting you too," Chevelle said fighting the urge to reach out and touch him since she knew her dad was now watching. "And thanks—for the tomatoes and for the company last night. I really needed it."

He nodded, "Yeah, me too."

↠ • ↞

So, friends, as you've probably already guessed, Chevelle snuck out of midnight Mass that night.

It took her all of twelve minutes to come to that decision.

After an afternoon of trying so carefully to avoid Jared while also participating in the Christmas festivities like she was expected to, Chevelle didn't have any more energy to deal with a situation that was so obviously bullshit. She didn't understand how any of her family members could look at their situation and not see it. Like, it was weird that her parents were allowing her little sister to date her ex...right? And they weren't just 'allowing' it, they were celebrating it!

Chevelle didn't throw the word 'evil' around lightly, but come on...

It's not that she thought her parents were evil people, but she couldn't pretend they weren't allowing an evil thing to happen under their roof. And she couldn't pretend that she didn't hate them just little bit because of it. She had to keep reminding herself that she only had three more days before she'd be back at her apartment and not have to deal with any of this shit for another year. But back to the situation at hand: Mass.

The actual event that pushed Chevelle over the edge and led to her decision of leaving, was when Farah and Jared—who were so conveniently seated right in front of Chevelle—began drawing shapes on each other's backs while the priest was still getting through the introductory rites. Blasphemy aside, the laughing and giggling was all just too much for Chevelle to handle. Especially when she had to see it literally every time she turned a corner at home. And so she threw the Lord a quick prayer, both asking him to forgive her for what she was about to do, and thanking him for convincing her to drive to Mass in her own car that night.

"Papa, I'm going to the bathroom," Chevelle whispered to her father, the lie not fazing her at all. She could do this in her sleep if she needed to. "Ti momen." I'll be right back.

"Dakó," her father replied, not at all privy to the fact that his daughter planned to ditch Mass entirely without even setting foot in the bathroom. I can't say that he was particularly surprised when he eventually figured it out though. Chevelle had gotten so good at lying to him over the years that he rarely asked her questions anymore, and when he did, he couldn't even be sure if she was telling him the truth or not. It was the most frustrating thing. He had used to put blind faith in her—and all his children, really—but over time he'd learned that he couldn't do that, no matter how much he may have wanted to.

Chevelle left the church building and made a beeline for her car, entering through the back door and laying down on the cold seats. She knew that this was all going to catch up with her later, but right then she didn't care. She just needed to get away from there as quickly as possible—she needed to be somewhere she could actually breathe. And so, as she laid down in the chilly car with the windows cracked open just enough for her to feel the biting breeze, she did just that: breathed.

After a few deep breaths in and out, Chevelle considered going home, but then she remembered that when everybody arrived back in a couple of hours, they would hound her with all the questions she wasn't ready to answer. She also considered just hitting the road and seeing where it took her, but it was late, almost Christmas, and she was tired. Driving indefinitely wasn't looking very attractive at the moment.

Chevelle tried not to let her mind settle on the one thing she hadn't been able to stop thinking about all day, but of course it was of no use. Her mind was known to often go to the wrong place and make a home for itself there. And so, Chevelle allowed herself to think about Abel. She thought back to the grocery store earlier...how handsome he had looked so early in the morning with his hair tied back and his face freshly shaven... If her father hadn't been there watching over them, who knows if Chevelle would have even made it back home.

And then she thought back to last night. Back to the blunt they had smoked in Abel's car and how she couldn't help but follow the movement every time he brought it to his lips and took a hit. She thought about how she'd felt so at ease with him even though they'd just met. How so much could have happened but nothing did. Chevelle thought about her hand hot on Abel's thigh and his eyes hot on her hand, and she laughed, almost embarrassed at how bold she'd been with a guy she barely knew. But back then she hadn't expected to ever see him again, so things were different. Now that she was laying here with his number in her phone though, the nerves she'd so carefully evaded yesterday were creeping their way in. She wanted to call Abel and ask what he was up to, but it was already 12 in the morning; there was no way he wouldn't think this was a booty call...which it kind of was, since Chevelle couldn't honestly say that she'd be opposed to giving him some ass. But it also kind of wasn't, because first and foremost, she needed an escape, and Abel was the only person within a 100-mile radius that she wanted to see right now. More than finding him wildly attractive, she found him easy to talk to—even if he was still hung up over an ex.

"Fuck it."

Chevelle opened her phone and pulled up Abel's contact info, pressing the call button before she had time to scare herself out of contacting him altogether. The phone rang four times before he picked up.

"Hello?"

Chevelle smiled at the sound of his voice. Even through the phone, it did something to her. She wasn't sure she'd ever felt such a natural attraction to someone before—well, besides her first love, but that's a whole nother story. She wondered if this went both ways.

"Hey, you," Chevelle said, awkwardly recycling the words Abel had used on her earlier (with nowhere near as much game). "I hope I'm not waking you. This is—"

"Chevelle." Abel cut in, finishing Chevelle's sentence for her. She could just hear the smirk on his lips. He had known she would call.

"Wow, you recognized my voice. I'm touched."

Abel laughed. "Shouldn't you be mumble rapping a hymn right about now?" he asked.

With an eye roll Chevelle wished Abel could see, she replied, "Yeah, so about that...there's actually been slight change of plans."

"Oh?"

"Yeah..." She groaned, "Even though I'm sure it means I'll spend a couple more years in purgatory, I just snuck out of Mass."

"Whoa, shit. Yeah, that's gotta be at least another decade, Chevelle."

With an uneasy laugh, Chevelle waited for him to continue. She was hoping that Abel knew what to say right now, because she wanted to see him, but she wasn't sure how to ask just yet.

She heard Abel's breath hitch, and him clear his throat before he spoke. "You wanna slap another couple years onto that and come drink some wine with me?"

Chevelle smiled—grinned, actually. "Uh, yeah that actually sounds really nice," she said, not bothering to bring up the fact that drinking wine was most definitely not a sin. She was sure he already knew this anyway, and besides, she was hoping to sin in other ways tonight.

Abel offered to come pick Chevelle up from the church, but she declined—for a multitude of reasons. Firstly, she knew that her family would lose their shit and end up calling the police if they couldn't find her anywhere and her car was still on the premises—either that or she'd have to tell them where she was going, and that was a hard no. Secondly, she wanted to make sure she had her car with her in case anything went wrong and she needed to leave Abel's house. No matter how sexy or easy to talk to he was, he was still a stranger, and Chevelle had to think about these things. And thirdly (and dare I say, most importantly), Chevelle liked to drive, and she most definitely needed the clear head the road always granted before she could dare face him.

He sent her his address and she made her way over to his place, arriving much faster than she'd anticipated. As she pulled into Abel's driveway, right beside his blue Honda, Chevelle questioned whether or not this was a smart decision. She really had just met this man. Although, by that logic, smoking with him that first night hadn't been a particularly smart decision either and it still turned out pretty well. She got out of it, if nothing else, a friend.

Chevelle knocked on the front door, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, wondering if maybe Abel could see her from wherever he was in the house. Chevelle hated spotlights—she was more of a behind-the-scenes kind of girl—and standing under Abel's porch light surrounded by the vast expanse of night that stopped shy a few feet away from her, she felt like she was being watched by the entire neighborhood.

She knocked on the door again, frowning at the 'BROKEN' sign that sat above the doorbell. And after what felt like way too long, the door finally opened, revealing behind it, Abel, who was looking knee-bucklingly fine in a black button up shirt (with, of course, just enough buttons undone). His hair was tucked down behind his ears, falling right on his shoulders in the most full and curly waterfall Chevelle had ever seen from a head. Her mouth dried up as she opened it and tried to say something. She looked Abel up and down again, drinking everything in.

"Hey, stranger," Abel said, with a grin that went all the way to his eyes. Chevelle grabbed onto the doorframe to steady herself as his voice caressed her ears. She felt like she was going to lose her balance if she had to keep looking at this man. Like, either she was just delirious and horny from having to see her ex all day long, or Abel had gotten finer—if that was even possible. "It's good to see you," he said.

"Yeah, you too. It almost feels like I didn't see you this morning."

Abel smiled, agreeing with her in the form of a wink. "Would you like to come in?" he asked, stepping to the side and watching as Chevelle stood still for a minute, her eyebrows furrowing together before she nodded. And as she lowered her gaze from his face to walk by him, Abel wondered what was going through her head. Her face was always so expressive; she couldn't hide it when she was really thinking about something, and it piqued his curiosity. It was a shame that most of the time Chevelle didn't say what was on her mind.

And, I feel it important to mention that amidst all Chevelle's ogling, Abel was looking at her too. She may not have noticed since she was quite focused on capturing a detailed mental picture for herself later, but, whew, was that man looking. And he very much liked what he saw.

"So...why are you all dressed up?" Chevelle asked, walking slowly into the house as she tried to memorize both everything about the place and the man who lived there at the same time. It was a nice house—quaint, but still very nice. Especially for a twenty-five-year-old living alone. It was a townhouse, so there wasn't really room for any surprises as far as layout went, but when it came to décor, Abel had really found a way to throw a masterpiece together. Everything from the wooden floors to the living room and kitchen furniture to the off-white walls had earthy tones to it. It made being inside his apartment feel like one was still a part of the world outside it. And then came the main attraction: the plants.

Abel had plants lining every room and almost every wall in his house. Tall ones that stood in pots on the floor, reaching all the way to the ceilings, short ones that lined the shelves and tucked themselves away into corners—all different species and all adding different elements of life to the house. Was it possible to be sexually attracted to someone solely based on the way they lived? If so, Chevelle was definitely feeling it. Abel had somehow managed to master creating privacy in a one-story house that really wasn't built for it. And the air inside the house was so fresh and crisp. Chevelle took in a deep breath, filling her lungs and letting her eyes flutter closed.

Abel laughed as he watched her. "I just got back from a function, actually," he said, snapping Chevelle out of her trance. Her eyes flew open at the sound of him closing the door behind her and turning the lock. She let out a shaky breath. "Really just a kickback at my friend's house," Abel finished.

"Wait, what? Don't tell me you left because of me, I'd feel so bad."

"No, no, I didn't," Abel assured her. "I was actually just pulling into my driveway as you called."

Chevelle raised an eyebrow at him. "So early?"

"It's almost one AM," Abel said, frowning. "This is early for you?"

With a shrug, Chevelle replied, "Depends on the occasion. For hanging out with friends, kind of."

Abel nodded. "Fair," he said. "Some of my friends have kids and families though, so it's a lot of guesswork trying to decide when our nights together should end."

"I see."

Chevelle was more taken aback by this information than she'd like to admit. I mean, it made sense that Abel's friends were starting families and shit—he was 25! That's what people did at that age. Chevelle just didn't like hearing it because she was turning 24 in a couple of days and was nowhere near having her life together enough to start a family. At her ripe age of 23, she was still working a job as some rich guy's maid because she was too afraid to leave that steady source of income and follow any of her actual dreams. It was pathetic.

"So...you promised me some wine?" Chevelle asked, not really knowing what else to say now that she and Abel were just standing in his living room, looking at each other.

"Yes, I did," Abel said with a laugh. "But first things first, are you hungry at all?"

"Ooh, a little."

"What are your feelings on spicy food?" he asked, leading Chevelle towards the kitchen.

She followed him in and took a seat on one of the stools by the counter. "As far as I'm concerned, it's not a meal unless I'm sweating at least a little bit by the end of it," she said.

Abel smiled, chuckling to himself lightly. "In that case, can I interest you in some jollof rice and fried plantain?"

Chevelle's jaw dropped. "Wait, what the fuck?" she demanded. "You cook too?" Could this man get any more perfect? Her mouth was watering just thinking about taking a bite of some jollof rice. It had been way too long.

Abel laughed, scratching the back of his neck. "Kind of?" he said. "But definitely not anything on that level. The friend whose house I was at is Nigerian, so she was really chefing it up in that kitchen. And she insisted we all take some food home with us too—which is good, you know, cause I was ready to beg." He opened up his fridge and peered inside. "There's also chicken if you're interested?"

Chevelle meant to moan in her head, but as soon as she thought it, the sound came falling from her lips. "My God, are you trying to seduce me?" she asked, blurting out the words before they even had time to register.

Abel cocked his head to the side, looking at Chevelle with a certain intrigue that made her hands sweat and her breath hitch in her throat. If she wasn't as dark as she was, no doubt her cheeks would be beet red right now. She could feel the stinging as the blood rushed to them, hot under Abel's gaze. He wasn't undressing her with his eyes per se, but something about the way he was watching her made her want to—holy shit. Jesus, yeah, I can't narrate that.

Let's just say that Chevelle was way too horny for her own good. She probably shouldn't have skipped that Mass.

Finally, Abel laughed and closed the fridge, setting tins of food down on the counter. He began to fix up Chevelle's plate, and she leaned in almost instinctively, following his every movement.

"I'm about to hop in the shower," Abel said, his voice dangerously low. "But, you know...ask me again when I get out, and we'll see."

Reminder that if you want to read ahead, you can find Chevelle's Story on the Radish Fiction app!! My handle is @deeperplease

Chapter 19 was posted on Radish today. New chapters every Thursday & Sunday.

<3

-nabi