Rekiya was not your average chic
She was beautiful.
The tall, chocolate complexion, maybe a mix of caramel and dark chocolate, because her skin was flawless. She had dimples that made her smile and made my heart sink deeper.
She had a nice slant from her waist to her hip dip.
A nice four-pack with two more barely visible, but still forming.
Rekiya was every man's dream chic.
She commanded attention when she walked into the room. She had a hair full of beautiful 4c locs which she pulled up into a bun on some days or combed into a nice fro on other days.
Her face needed no makeup, but she could look perfect when she had it on. On most days, it was lip gloss, eyeliner, and mascara.
Rekiya was one word.
Beautiful.
I sat in the lounge at the airport, waiting for my flight to depart. My friend Bruce sat beside me scrolling through his cell phone. We were headed to Los Angeles for a bachelor’s eve party. Bruce and I were childhood friends. We went to the same schools and hung out with the same crowd.
Lawrence, our high school buddy, was getting married to his sweetheart, and we were going to support him. We were his groomsmen, and we planned a perfect trip to Los Angeles, and the rest of the trip would unravel on its own.
An incoming text made my phone buzz. Bruce glanced at me for a split second and stared at his phone screen.
