Bood Up – Nina High

The candy corn, the gift card to my favorite coffee spot that isn’t the cafe I work at…It feels like Jamal. Who else would notice the candy dish on my counter? The one I refill with candy corn year-round, like it’s a personality trait? He’s fixed enough things here to know I always have that little orange bowl out. I tell myself not to be ridiculous. It could be anyone. But when I look around, the only person who’s been here enough to notice the coffee cups or candy dish is Jamal.

And now, I can’t stop watching for him. Every clang from the parking lot, knock on a neighbor’s door has me straightening my shirt like an idiot. So when the dryer stops heating that morning, I don’t even hesitate. “Well, well,” I mutter. “Guess it’s my lucky day.” I call him, trying to sound casual. “Hey,” he says. His voice is low and calm, the kind that usually makes my knees think they don’t have a job. “My dryer’s spinning but not heating,” I say. “Can you take a look?”

“Sure,” he answers, tone even. “I’ll come by after lunch.” No teasing. No joke about how things only stop working when I need attention. Just “Sure.” It throws me. By the time I hear his knock, I’ve already changed shirts twice, told myself to relax three times, and checked my mirror more times than I’ll ever admit.

I open the door smiling. “Hey, stranger.” “Hey,” he says back, polite, professional. That’s it. No grin, no spark, no hint of the man who’s had his hands all over me. “It’s back there,” I say, stepping aside. He walks past me, and my heartbeat stumbles over itself. I lean against the doorframe and watch him kneel in front of the dryer, sleeves pushed up, forearms flexing. He works quietly, movements efficient, precise. “You always here when I need you,” I say, hoping he’ll take the bait.

He glances up briefly. “That’s the job.” I frown. “You good?” “Yeah.” He reaches behind the machine. I try to breathe normally, but the air in the small room feels thick. He’s close enough that I can feel the warmth from his body. When his arm brushes my hip as he checks the plug, my breath catches. He doesn’t react. Not even a flicker. Usually, he’d use that touch as an excuse to turn me around, press his mouth to my neck, make me forget my name.

Today, he pulls out the lint trap. It’s full beyond capacity. “That’s it?” I ask. “Yeah, you gotta clean this out every time you use the dryer.” he says, turning the dryer back on and resting his hand on top of it. “Heats up pretty good now.” I wait for Jamal to bite his bottom lip the way he always does, but he wipes his hands, nods once, and heads for the door.

“Thanks,” I say quietly. “Anytime.” And he’s gone.

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

ISBN-13: 9781234567890 ISBN-10: 1477123456 Cover design by: GetCovers.com Library of Congress Control Number: 2018675309 Printed in the United States of America 1kitap1.com/en CONTENTS Title Page Copyright Hey girl hey! Chapter 1: Let Me Call Jamal Chapter 2: Post-Orgasm Clarity Chapter 3: Maybe, Maybe Not Chapter 4: Caught Slippin’ Chapter 5: Mixed Messages Chapter 6: Small Things Chapter 7: Soft Season Chapter 8: Nothing Left to Hide Chapter 9: Hit and Stay Chapter 10: Morning Calm Thank you!

Also by Nina High Acknowledgments: 1kitap1.com/en HEY GIRL HEY! This is not a sweet, closed-door book. They get it in and cuss, so send it right back to KU if that’s not what you came here for. 1kitap1.com/en CHAPTER 1: LET ME CALL JAMAL Samira “Well, damn!” The kitchen faucet leaks every time I turn it on. Let me call Jamal.

I thank the universe every day that I chose this complex to live in because Jamal, the maintenance man, does more than fix my leaky pipes. I text him a picture of the faucet, and “OMW” pops up on my screen. My heartbeat speeds up, and my pussy throbs. Sometimes he gives me a fix first. Other times, he makes me wait. I quickly moisturize my skin and await his knock at my door. He lives on the other side of the complex. So, the trip is a short one, but I still fidget and anxiously straighten up the items on my counter as I wait for him.

I pull in a slow, deep breath when I hear the heavy knock at my door. I’m like Pavlov’s dog with this man. Sometimes I want to break things in my condo just so he has to come. But the place is so raggedy, there’s no need to fake it. Something is wrong in my place at least once a week. I open the door, and there he is in his maintenance coveralls and a smile on his handsome face.

He licks his lips and looks down at me, eyes hooded but still bright. “Hey.” His deep voice still makes me shiver. We’ve been at it for months now, and I swear his presence gives me butterflies. “Hey, Jamal.” I practically sing. “Something wrong with your sink?”

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.

Book Information

• Unique ID: c6fb7297d30dad8a
• File Extension: .pdf
• File Size: 1,796,748 bytes (1.714 MB)
• Title: –
• Author: Unknown
• Pages: 49
• Language: English (en)

Reading & Word Statistics

• Estimated Reading Time: 52.27 minutes
• Total Words: 10,454
• Total Characters: 55,369
• Average Words per Page: 213.35
• Average Characters per Page: 1129.98

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