"She's over there."

Dominque could only imagine how Kaede's team perceived him; just as he said, their opinion didn't bother him. The man was over the stages and trends of the cold-hearted guy. Portraying a man blowing hot and cold was a tiresome process. It was okay for a teen, but the deed became time-consuming for an adult, especially when the man knew what he wanted from the woman he courted.

Most people in Kaede's staff did not understand why she refused Dominque's advances. He appeared honest and decent. Since the kiss, the man came every day to chat with her. Dominque didn't ask for her number. Instead, he initiated casual conversations about other things such as the latest trends, fitness, the weather and, Netflix movie flops during Kaede's breaks. They even debated about the high price of gas, pollution, and expensive parking lots, Uber magic, basically any subject a person could discuss when Steph didn't interrupt for no reason.

That day Kaede didn't wish to speak to Dominque even though her blown-out hair and the Jacquemus dress she wore were initially for his intent.

"He's a nuisance."

Because of Dominque, she became more self-aware. She hated that she consciously desired the man to drool over her appearance, especially now she heard these things.

The kiss on her cheek left a strong imprint. Kaede could almost feel the prick of his two-day mustache, the softness of his lips, and the smell of hair shampoo when she focused on the memory.

Iman and Kaede's stare followed Dominque, who stopped to greet Kevin, the stockman, "I would say he's entreating you," Iman dropped after Kaede's comment, "It's the best stage. I used to love it when my husband chased me around campus."

At this instant, what annoyed Kaede was the conquest of bashfulness over her body. The woman could barely stare at him. The more she saw Dominque, the more she noticed features that appealed to her. There wasn't a day where either his appearance or behavior failed the man who did not falter in his daily pursuit.

One could wonder how long the man's patience ran.

The two women watched Dominque's exchange from afar. The former football player gone professional sniper for French Intervention wore cargo pocket black shorts and tee. Like Kaede with her slit Jacquemus dress, the man showed a little leg, not the drumstick, but well-toned and tanned calves that some would effectively want to eat like chicken.

"Wow, Kevin, what's up, man?" Dominque shook his hand with enthusiasm.

"I'm good, and you?"

Dominque smiled, "I'm good, too; what are you doing here?"

"I work here, I've seen you around, but you just walk right past me."

Dominque swiped a hand at the back of his head; the man was awkward. All that mattered when he came to the store was Kaede; he realized he often made abstractions of the people around him.

"I'm sorry, Iㅡ."

"No, worries, I understand; she's that lose-your-head type of girl."

Dominque grinned and stared in Kaede's direction, who turned her gaze away, "yeah, she's that type. So do you like it here?"

"Well, the guys from the other store were like, dude, you're crazy. You're signing up for the gulag, but she's cool. The pay is good."

"I'm glad to hear that you should pass by the club sometimes."

"Man, I don't know. The coach is probably still pissed that I hung up my gloves."

The Miguens owned a boxing club in Aubervilliers. Kevin trained there, and when the contracts came in, Dominque's father continued to coach him. Things were going great until Kevin got a K.O that left him three weeks in a coma. After that, his girlfriend refused to see him climb back in the ring, saying she didn't wish to be Adrianne, and he was no Balboa.

Dominque's father was furious, but he came to understand.

"Nah, don't sweat it. He and my mother live in Puerto Rico now."

Kevin frowned, "who runs the club?"

"My uncle, Luis, pass by. I'm sure the guys will be glad to see you."

While he finished his sentence, Dominque saw Kaede strut to the store's entrance. He watched how the woman's leg appeared with every sexy stride. The man found himself torn between wishing for her to cover up and relishing the sneak peek of her thighs and ankles. He noticed the hair too, Kaede never let her hair down. The loose curls bounced on her shoulders.

The compliments bustled in his mouth, but the man held them hostage as the woman hated any flattery, "got to go; it was nice seeing you, Kevin."

Kevin nodded, and Dominque hurried to catch up with Kaede, who was about to cross the street, "going somewhere?"

"To lunch," Kaede said dryly without looking at him.

"Great, let's go together."

Kaede lifted her eyes to the sky, for she knew nothing would stop the man.

"This way," Dominque guided her by the shoulders.

"Dominique, why are you doing this? Many other women want your attention," Kaede blurted.

The man shrugged, "I'm not interested in those who want me as a trophy."

Kaede pondered she never thought about women who held scores like their male counterparts, "so, your only motive for hanging around me is the fact I don't want you."

"Nah, you're just resisting, Kaede."

"Pff, you are so damn full of yourself."

Dominque decided to ignore the sarcastic tone. Still, his senses told him something was off, "I don't get it, can't you just let me like you and let us happen?"

Kaede did not answer.

They arrived in front of Café Pouckine at Madelaine. Kaede looked at the entrance, "here?"

"Yeah."

The Café house was fancy. It was one of those names like Laduree, or Le Notre, famous for its cakes and bakeries.

Dominque led the way, and Kaede pursed her lips and followed.

"Bonjour, une table pour deux."

The woman took them to a table.

Dominque was happy; their story appeared to have some advancement, "Isn't nice, just the two of us as if we're a couple."

Kaede gave a crooked apathetic smile.

Dominque picked up the menu and awaited for Kaede to do the same, "so what will you have?"

Kaede looked around. A couple in their fifties on their left and a man typing on his laptop on their right.

"I'll just have an expresso."

The response surprised Dominque, who wondered if the woman thought he was penniless, "what, I'm paying pick what you want."

Kaede gave him a dark eye. She wasn't looking for a guy who would pay for everything. The woman earned her euros; she disliked the gesture.

It reminded her of Marco, who always thought he had to pay. Kaede imagined the man was just a gentleman until Marco brought gifts after arguments or when he felt guilty of running dirty behind her back. Marco brought her clothes and underwear he liked so that he could feast his eyes on her and satisfy his fantasies. It was only when the relationship was over that Kaede realized how he treated her like a pet.

"Dominque, let's set the record straight, okay. What am I for you?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm I some experiment, like let me taste some chocolate type of fetishism?"

The man blinked, Kaede pursued, "because I know how the song goes. After going around the world, test driving Latin, Asian, and last but not least, the black girl not too dark, not too light either because you don't want the buddies to think you got the love for the Carte d'Or [black arabica coffee]. Then you fuck her sideways and until she forgets her name, and once done, your ghost."

Dominque slicked his hair back. This was one heck of an unexpected U-turn in their not-yet-but-hopefully-soon relationship, "wow, Kaede, who did this to you? You must have met some twisted motherfucker."

"Don't pretend to act as if you've never done something like that before. Barely three weeks ago, you were with that Insta model, and now you are all up on me. Dominque, stop pretending to care and acting like I mean something to you."