Sweatpants Season Read online

  Sweatpants Season

  Danielle Allen

  Contents

  Sweatpants Season

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Cuffing Season Blurb

  Broken Clocks Sneak Peek

  Playlist

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Danielle Allen

  Copyright © 2018 by Danielle Allen

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be copied, reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, pirating, or by an information storage and retrieval system - except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine, newspaper, or website – without permission in writing from the publisher/author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Editor/Proofreader: Nerdy Girl Editing

  Cover Design: Q Design

  Cover Photo Credit: Shutterstock

  Sweatpants Season

  He has a big…smile.

  It was the first thing I noticed that day until he stood. His grey sweatpants hung off his hips and I didn’t want to look. I really didn’t.

  I’m a feminist.

  I don’t believe in objectifying men. I don’t catcall men. I don’t ogle the bodies of men. I don’t view men as objects of my affection rather than complex people with feelings, wants, and needs of their own. I don’t treat men the way society often treats women.

  I treat men the way I want to be treated as a woman—with respect!

  So, when Carlos ran into me while I was reviewing my interview questions in the park, it surprised me to see my photography classmate out of context. I was also surprised to see as much of him as I did.

  It wasn’t just that it caught my eye. It was the fact that it held my attention.

  It wasn’t just that it was large. It was the fact that it was visibly large.

  It wasn’t just that it was Carlos Richmond. It was the fact that I am Akila Bishara.

  And I am not seduced by anything other than intelligent conversation, witty rapport, and meaningful actions.

  I am not seduced by a dick print.

  I am not.

  Seriously, I’m not.

  Dedication

  To everyone who knows there is no compromise between right and wrong.

  And to Tarana Burke.

  Prologue

  “So, what we’ve learned is that all women—” City Boy started, his voice rising with amusement.

  “Not all women,” Country Boy interrupted, his deep voice countered.

  “All women,” City Boy yelled, doubling down on his claim.

  “Oh god, here we go,” Country Boy muttered as he laughed.

  “All women who wear lowcut shirts are doing it so that we can check out the fun bags! They want us to look. They are showing so much skin that they are basically begging for the attention. So, VanDamn645, you are not wrong for looking at your classmate’s cleavage. She has them out for a reason.”

  “VanDamn645, what I will say is that you may not be wrong for looking for a second, but you’re wrong for staring. There’s a difference between an appreciative glance and a full-on creep move. Don’t be a creep,” Los Cabos chimed in.

  “Los Cabos is always riding the fence,” City Boy complained cheerfully. “I say fuck it! Be a creep! Just don’t touch. But if she got them out for you to look at them, look! The saying goes ‘look, but don’t touch’ not ‘look for no longer than three seconds and don’t touch’ okay, VanDamn645?”

  “If you’re out there listening, VanDamn645, don’t let City Boy get you caught up in some bullshit,” Country Boy laughed.

  “Better yet, VanDamn645, don’t listen to City Boy period,” Los Cabos laughed.

  “Okay, that’s it for tonight. Tune in next week and we’ll answer more of your emails. We’ll also have a special guest that you won’t want to miss. I’m City Boy—”

  “I’m Country Boy…”

  “And I’m Los Cabos.”

  “And this is Date Night with the Lost Boys,” the three of them said in unison.

  I turned off the podcast and looked at my best friend, Meghan Parks, and my younger sister, Alexandria Bishara. Shaking my head, I waited.

  “This is what’s wrong with a lot of the men at Hamilton University,” Alexandria snapped, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “This is what’s wrong with a lot of men in this society,” Meghan amended, pouring the rest of her wine into her mouth.

  “Exactly! Thank you!” I threw my hands into the air as I rose to my feet.

  “I’m pretty sure a bunch of guys on campus listen to this. Who are these idiots?” Alex asked as she reached for the bottle of wine we’d been drinking since we returned from dinner.

  “They’re a group of dimwitted, egomaniacal, frat boys and assholes,” I replied, sitting back. “According to the description, Date Night has been around for a few years. They built a cult-like following feeding bad advice to boys aged eighteen to thirty-five.” Rolling my eyes, I emphasized the word boys.

  “Please tell me the bio on these assholes didn’t say boys. Please,” Meghan groaned.

  “No, it said men, but no one who actually takes advice from The Lost Boys could possibly be a grown man. They have to be adult children like the on-air clowns,” I pointed out.

  “Definitely clowns. You have to admit it was a little funny when they were answering the question about how to flirt with women at a party or in a bar,” Alex giggled, dribbling some wine onto her shirt. “Shit! Some of the advice was terrible, but there were a couple of funny moments.”

  I looked “They are the enemy.” The show was cringe-worthy, but decently humorous.” She shrugged as she blotted the wine spot.

  “None of that shit was funny because men actually take and utilize this advice.” I narrowed my eyes. “Is that my shirt?”

  Alex’s eyes darted to Meghan before returning to me. “Nooooooo.”

  I put my hands on my hips. “Yes, it is!”

  She scrunched her nose and her eyebrows crumpled in confusion. “Is it?”

  “Alex! It’s bad enough you stole my shirt, but you spilled red wine on it,” I scolded my little sister.

  “Well, in my defense,” she started, holding her hands up. “I took it from Meghan’s closet, so if anyone stole it, it wasn’t me…”

  My jaw dropped. Shifting my eyes from my sister to my best friend. “Meghan!”

  “In my defense, I bought that shirt for your birthday, and Alex had it on all night and you’re just now noticing.” Meghan leaned forward, her platinum blonde wig framing her face. “So, really, should I be offended?”

  My jaw dropped. “Are you kidding me?”

  As hard as I tried, I couldn’t contain the short laugh that escaped me once Alex laughed.

  “Okay, fine!” I pointed at them both. “But leave my stuff alone,” I warned them as firmly as I could.

  Alex rolled her eyes and Meghan saluted. “Yes, Kiki,” they said in unis
on.

  “I can’t stand you two,” I chuckled. “Anyway…” Shaking my head, I continued pacing the living room of the apartment I shared with Meghan. “I referenced Date Night with The Lost Boys as poor examples of the dating pool in a piece for the Lifestyle section of Richland Times Dispatch.”

  “Wait? I didn’t know about this!” Alex squealed. “When did this happen? What’s the article about?”

  “Oh! I thought I told you!” I grinned. “I pitched it to The Herald, but they weren’t interested. So, when Richland Times reached out last week about a summer recap piece they’re doing in the Lifestyle section, they asked me to do a colorful commentary about being single in the city. So, it’s basically about me being single and enjoying single life. And they wanted me to touch on why I’m single and on the dating culture and—”

  “But don’t you have to be dating for that?” Alex quipped, interrupting my sentence.

  I opened my mouth to respond, but Meghan cut in.

  “And Kenneth, Jamal, and Zack don’t count,” she teased.

  Putting my hands on my hips, I glared at the two people I was closest to in the world. They giggled, but I resisted the urge. “Those do count!” I paused. “Just because I took time out to focus on me and my career doesn’t mean my dates don’t count.”

  “They don’t,” Meghan confirmed.

  I looked between them with my mouth agape. “Just because I didn’t feel the magic with these guys, doesn’t mean the dates don’t count.”

  Alex shook her head. “No…”

  “And why not? I went on dates with all of them!”

  Meghan rolled her eyes. “Yeah, but if it’s been over three months since your last first date…” She lifted her shoulders with her palms up.

  “You guys know that my bank account required me to focus on my career and not dating for a few months! But that’s neither here nor there; I’m going on a date in two days,” I argued. “And the article is being published the same day so it’s not a lie. I am single and dating. It’s just that the dating pool is full of...” With my eyes bulging, I gestured toward the speakers. “Lost Boys parading around as grown ass men.”

  “Well, if nothing else, those Lost Boys provided you with tangible references to point out the fuckboy behavior that is alive and well. If you would’ve said you didn’t go on many dates because men say shit like what they said, there would be someone in the comments section of the online version of the article saying ‘not all men’ and calling you a lying bitch,” Meghan pointed out, using air quotes and shaking her head.

  “Okay, before you two get started, can we toast?” Grabbing her glass, Alex lifted it waiting for me and Meghan to follow suit. “Here’s to my big sister’s big news—” She paused for effect. “—her date! Lord knows it’s been too long.”

  Letting my head fall back, I laughed loudly.

  “No, but seriously, here’s to a great article,” Alex continued, giggles making her voice flutter. She gulped the last of her wine. “And most importantly, the real reason we went out tonight… here’s to beginning that photography class with Luca Romano’s sexy ass.”

  “I’ll drink to that!” Meghan sang, leaning forward and clinking glasses with Alex and then me. “Congratulations, Akila!”

  I smiled. “Thank you both for going to the club with me tonight. Over the next few days, I’ll have an article featured in the paper, and I’ll have my first date in months. And Monday, I’ll get to hone my skills as a photographer with a legend. And the week after that, I have an interview with Re-Mix Magazine. And then I’ll launch my blog.”

  Bringing the glass to my lips, I couldn’t help but smile.

  I can do all things.

  Chapter One

  There was a slight chill in the air as the sun set on the city. A beautiful backdrop for what hoped to be a beautiful night. Wearing a shade of marigold yellow that made my skin glow, I sat at the rooftop bar of the busy restaurant, Koi, waiting for my date. I stared at my reflection in the mirror behind the rows of alcohol bottles and rolled my bare shoulders backward.

  Just a few more minutes.

  It was the first week of September and still very warm on most days. I brought a cute black jacket with me just in case the temperature dropped unexpectedly like it had the day before. But my dress was hot and needed to be shown off. I’d waited all summer for a reason to wear it and thought my date with Niles was the reason I was waiting for.

  The sweetheart neckline was both sexy and sweet and the fitted material showcased the width of my hips and the roundness of my ass. My dark, tightly coiled hair was brushed into a high ponytail that sat on top of my head like a crown. My gold hoops and bracelet sparkled in the sunlight as I slipped off my gold rimmed sunglasses. I completed my look with sexy heels that hurt my pinky toe, but made my legs look fantastic. Smiling at my reflection, I was pleased. I hadn’t been on a date in months and I wanted to bring my A-game.

  Two minutes after Niles gets here, the jacket is going on. But he has to see the full effect—oh! I love this song.

  Moving in my seat, I rocked to the music, watching myself in the mirror.

  “Hi, I’m Brad. Would you like to dance?” A man asked as he slipped onto the barstool next to me. He looked like one of those good-looking frat boys you’d see in an R-rated comedy about nothing.

  “Oh, no thank you…” I flashed him a smile. “I’m waiting for someone.”

  “Well, why don’t you let me buy you a drink while you wait for whoever was stupid enough to leave you unattended at the bar?”

  “I’m actually here on a date,” I replied, my lips still turned upward. “But thank you for the offer.”

  “Come on… Anything you want, I got you covered.” His eyes slid down my face, lingering on my breasts for a second before he leaned a little closer. “You know I own this place, right?”

  “No, I didn’t. But that doesn’t change anything.”

  He silently stared at me for a second before standing up and straightening his tie. “No need to be stuck-up about it,” he responded, sneering. Turning to the bartender, he barked out a drink order.

  My jaw dropped. “I’m stuck-up because I said thank you and turned down your offer?”

  “You didn’t have to be a bitch about it.”

  I recoiled, my lip curled in disgust. “Who are you calling a bitch?”

  “I didn’t call you a bitch. I said you were acting like one.”

  “Honestly, the only person at this bar acting like a bitch is you,” I snapped.

  “You’re not even that cute anyway.”

  Shrugging, I smirked. “I was cute enough for you to ask me to dance and to buy me a drink.” I rolled my eyes dramatically. “And my eyes are up here.”

  “You have your fun bags out so clearly you wanted me to stare at them. You got them out for me to look, so I’m looking.” He made a point to look at my cleavage even harder and with even more intensity.

  Did this asshole say fun bags? That’s that same lame shit The Lost Boys said.

  “Who taught you that lie? The Lost Boys? Because let me tell you something… I can wear whatever I want and that doesn’t give you a right to objectify me.”

  Ignoring me, he continued. “And if I wanted them, I’d have them in my hands. If I wanted you, I’d have you in my bed.”

  “Come on, let’s not fool ourselves… you couldn’t have had this on your best day.”

  “You’d be lucky to suck my dick.”

  “You’d be lucky if I could find it.”

  Tossing money at the bartender and snatching his drink from the bar, he muttered something under his breath and stormed off.

  “You are such a badass,” the bartender commented as she gathered the dollar bills that he threw at her. “That prick comes here all the time, and he’s an asshole.”

  “Why hasn’t he been kicked out and banned from this place?”

  “He’s the owner’s son.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Of course, he is.�
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  “He’s disgusting and rude. He’s used to picking up any girl he wants. And when you said no, it was probably the first time he’d heard that in a long time. I wanted to laugh out loud.” Her blue eyes danced gleefully as she made a drink. “Let me get you another mojito.”

  I waved her off. “Oh no, I’m fine.”

  She walked down the bar and handed a man his order and then made her way back to me, grabbing things to make the minty concoction. “I insist. As a thank you for putting a chauvinistic pig in his place, it’s on me.”

  I smiled appreciatively. “Thank you.”

  A hand settled on my shoulder and my eyes darted to the mirror behind the bar. Smiling, I turned to the man I’d met at a writing retreat a couple of months prior.

  “The beautiful Akila,” he greeted me.

  “Niles!” Standing, I embraced him. “It’s so good to see you.”

  “It’s always good to see you.” He backed away and whistled appreciatively. “And you look even better than I remember.”

  Grinning, I spun in a circle, so he could get the full effect. “Thank you! How are you? You look great!”

  He ran his hand down the front of his black button-up shirt. “My dad-bod is still holding strong.”

  As I sat back down on my stool, I lifted my newly refreshed glass. “The dad-bod is sexy.”

  “Between that and the new beard craze, I’m in high demand,” Niles joked.

  “I believe it. I’m glad you were able to squeeze me into your busy schedule.”