LITMIR.BIZ

      Chapter 2

      Rashad Brown slipped the extra portfolio under his arm and followed Michelle to the elevator. He would have offered to take anyone home, but he was intrigued by this woman and wanted to know more about her. There was something about how easily she smiled and how open she was that let him know he would enjoy spending time with her. He couldn’t help being a little disappointed that she was taken already; son generally meant husband, as well. But she could still be a friend.

      Now that class was over, he could actually look at her. She was tall, only a few inches shorter than he was, and her hair was long and loose, with a slight curl at the end. She had on a powder-blue top with lace around the neck, down the front, at the bottom of the sleeves and at the hem. It gave her a feminine quality that matched her smile. She also had on blue leggings that fit her curves in all the right places—at least as far as he could see. There was nothing fancy, but it all made her look beautiful.

      When she turned around in the back of the elevator, he could see her face again. Her full cheeks gave her face the impression of always being on the verge of a smile. Her eyes were light brown, almost translucent, as if he could look right through them and they could do the same to him. Her lips were soft and plump, and they smiled now as she looked toward him in the crowded elevator and nodded. Now that he was facing her, he could see that her curves were filled out in every direction—supple, full, inviting.

      Rashad glanced at the floor number when the elevator bell rang, frustrated that he couldn’t continue his perusal but mindful that it was probably for the best.

      Their conversation erupted again—and as easily as it had before—as soon as they got to his car, which was in the parking garage right across the street from the Torpedo Factory.

      “Can we park here?” Michelle asked. “I’ll be driving again by next week. My car’s only in the shop for a couple of days.”

      Rashad hid his disappointment and explained the terms of the lot.

      “There were other lots listed,” she said. “I’ll check those, too.”

      “Before class started, you were saying that you aren’t an artist as yet.”

      Michelle laughed. “I would love to say yes. But no. I love to draw and paint and want to learn how to really do it. I’m a student in the Department of Journalism in the School of Communication at Howard—”

      “I went to Howard, as well, up through the MFA in design. Go Bisons!”

      “Uh. Yeah. Go Bisons,” Michelle echoed halfheartedly.

      Both of them laughed.

      “I do support my home team,” Michelle clarified.

      “But you don’t follow sports.”

      Michelle shook her head as they were getting into the car.

      “I’m an advertising student, and I want to be able to do original artwork for my advertising. We have to have a portfolio before we graduate, so now’s the time to learn. What about you? Why are you in the class?”

      “I finished a few years ago, and I work as a graphic designer for a web design firm in downtown D.C.”

      “Really?” Michelle said. “That sounds impressive. Congratulations.”

      Rashad took his eyes off the road for a couple seconds and glanced over to see if she was serious. She seemed sincere, and that felt good.

      “It’s not that impressive, but thank you. Anyway, I like being able to do my own thing rather than cutting and pasting all the time. I figure the more I know about drawing and the better I am at it, the more I can do and the better my work will be. My goal is to do more computer-based drawing, but you have to start with the fundamentals.”

      “They have all of that at the Corcoran College of Art and Design. I wanted to take Digital Design I, but their prices are incredible, even to audit.”

      The excitement in Michelle’s voice seemed to light up the car with energy. Rashad liked that.

      “I checked there, too,” Rashad said. “It’s only more expensive because they offer regular college courses at regular college prices. The Art League offers some range, as well. We’ll have to see what’s listed for next semester. Why aren’t you taking this at Howard? It could be part of your regular tuition.”

      Michelle sighed heavily. “I wish I could. I might be able to take a class or two later on, but now I can’t. I just started back at school, and they only took some of my credits. So to get out in the time I want, I have a full part-time load. I’ll see as I go on.”

      “Hey, do you know where we are?”

      “I have no idea.”

      Both of them laughed again.

      “I might have to meet you before our next class so you can follow me in.”

      Michelle held her hand up. “No need. I have a zillion D.C. area street maps. I can’t thank you enough for the ride home. Not everyone would have offered.”

      “It’s no problem, really. I’m not that far from you, and it’s my pleasure.”

      “Still, thank you.”

      Rashad heard the earnestness in Michelle’s voice and acquiesced.

      “You’re welcome.”

      Then he had a thought. “If you ever need a ride again, or if you ever want to carpool and save on gas, let me know.” It would be great to ride with her on a regular basis, get to know her better. He had to stop and remind himself that she was married.

      “Okay, I will. But for now, I just want my car back. I’m lost without it, and I didn’t want to miss our first class, so I’m learning even more about the Metro.”

      “And you already know that pretty well.”

      “Yes, I do.”

      “I take it you haven’t been in D.C. long. Did you come for school? How long have you been here?”

      “You know,” she said, “you don’t have to make small talk. I’d appreciate the ride home regardless.”

      “I want to know. You seem very nice, and it’s good to know someone in our class—just in case I need to get a homework assignment or something.”

      That wasn’t all that Rashad was thinking, but it was all that he could say without the risk of offending her. He couldn’t let on that he was taken with her smile and her laughter and... What was he doing? The woman was married.

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