The Art of Falling | Szn 1, Episode Ten

Can I Holla At Cha? | Kiyanne

The soft sounds of Melanie Fiona flowed through Kiyanne’s kitchen as she worked silently and carefully, slicing vegetables on a cutting board. The pizza dough she’d left to rise sat in a covered bowl on the edge of her white marbled counter while she diligently worked to ensure her cuts were uniform. If Kiyanne had to choose a career other than being an artist, she would be an executive chef. She’d gotten her love for cooking from Hazel, and when painting didn’t soothe her soul, Kiyanne knew she could always lose herself in the comfort of creating something beautiful and delicious.

As if she knew Kiyanne was thinking about her, Hazel’s name and picture appeared on her phone, interrupting the music. Dropping her knife, Kiyanne used her pinky to slide the banner on her phone screen to the left to answer the phone and place it on speaker. “Hey, Mama.”

“Hey, love. How are you?”              

“I’m good. What about you?”

“I’m fine. But I’ll be better when you come get your mess out of my house,” she fussed, reminding Kiyanne that she’d left most of her brushes and paints at her house.

“I’m sorry,” Kiyanne snickered. “I’ll pick everything up tomorrow after work.”

“Well, I’m looking forward to seeing you. Make sure you have plans to stay for dinner.”

“I wouldn’t dream of leaving without it,” she playfully rolled her eyes.

“Mmhm,” Hazel hummed. “What are you up to?”

“Well,” Kiyanne sang, momentarily pausing to gather her thoughts. She didn’t mind telling Hazel about Shameek, but didn’t want her to read too much into it. So, she kept her reply vague. “I’m just making a couple of pizzas.”

“A couple sounds plural. As in more than one. Do you have someone coming over?”

“A’ight, Ma. Seriously, please do not freak out because it isn’t a big deal. But I’m making dinner for my neighbor, Meek. “Her confession was rushed, and she held her breath, awaiting a response. “Hello?” she questioned when Hazel didn’t respond.

“I’m sorry, I think my brain temporarily fried while trying to wrap itself around the information you just revealed.”

“Ha, ha, ha,” Kiyanne sarcastically replied. “You’re so funny.”

“Tell me about this boy. What’s he like?” Hazel’s voice was full of excitement.

“He’s like a person,” she replied just as there was a knock on her door. “A person who’s here. I have to go, Ma.”

“Wait,” Hazel called. “You better—”

“Bye, Ma!”

Ending their call, Kiyanne wiped her hands on a towel as Shameek knocked again.

“I’m coming, I’m coming. Sheesh,” she fussed. “Give me a minute.” Unlocking the door, she frowned upon seeing his smiling face. “I thought you said you were patient?”

“I am. When it comes to everything but food,” he replied, catching her off guard when he planted his lips against her cheek.

Kiyanne thought it’d been a fluke when he’d hugged her without warning at the museum, and she didn’t tense or feel the usual surge of anxiety. But for the second time, physical contact with Shameek left her completely at ease, even when his lips lingered against her face longer than necessary.

“How are you doing, beautiful?” he murmured, pulling away.

Ignoring his question, Kiyanne stepped back to allow him inside. “You can come in.”

“So, this is 430, huh?” he glanced around, examining her home. The lingering combination of amber and ginger invaded her nose as he passed, nearly making her dizzy.

Exhaling slowly, Kiyanne closed and locked the door while mentally scolding herself to pull it together. “The one and only,” she replied once she trusted herself enough to speak.

Stopping before a photo frame hung on the wall, Shameek extended his pointer finger and turned his head toward Kiyanne. “Did you do this?”

“Yup,” she nodded proudly, shuffling toward him and turning her eyes to the picture, admiring the hand-drawn portrait of a lioness and her cub that she completed years ago. “It was the first drawing I attempted once I got back into art. My mom is the lioness, and I’m the cub.”

“This is dope as fuck. You probably get tired of hearing this, but you’re really talented, Kiy.”

Her cheeks warmed as she blushed. “Thanks. The kitchen is this way.”

Clearing her throat, she led him to the kitchen.

“You have my food ready, woman?” Shameek demanded, closely following.

“Don’t get hurt in here,” she snorted, raising an eyebrow.

“Picture that,” he continued to tease her, leaning against the counter as they entered the kitchen and Kiyanne returned to chopping vegetables. “How was your day, though?”

Kiyanne’s shoulders rose and fell. “It was a day. The same as any other. How was yours?”

“It was chill. I went to the studio and then kicked it with Gabby. Nothing crazy.”

“That’s your sister, right?” Kiyanne inquired, placing her paring knife in the sink.

“Yeah, she was with me at the museum. And she’s hosting a showcase in a couple of months. You should come check me out.”

“For what?” Her eyes glimmered with mischief. “I don’t even like you like that.”

“If that’s what you have to tell yourself to make it through your day, then do your thing, Kiy,” Shameek chuckled.

A laugh that Kiyanne couldn’t contain bubbled up her throat and forced its way out. She hated how amusing he could be. Shameek irked her nerves, but in an adorable way.

“I’m sick of you already.”

“Yeah, right. Anyway, back to the showcase. You coming or not?”

“Mmm, I’ll think about it,” she hummed, busying herself with preparing the pizza.

Shameek grinned. “I’ll take that. For now,” he licked his lips. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

That question gave her pause. Very rarely did Kiyanne speak about Gabriel, but something about Shameek felt so familiar and inviting that she couldn’t keep herself from spilling her story. “I have—had a brother,” she fumbled over her words. “I guess. I’m not sure where he is now. The only family I have is my mom. She found me when I was 14.”

“She found you?” Shameek raised an eyebrow.

“Yup,” Kiyanne nodded, popping the prepped pizzas into the oven. “She found me and probably saved me. Every time I was sent to a foster home, I’d run away. My brother was still with our dad, but decided he was tired of the BS. So, the last time we saw each other was when we ran away together. We ended up being separated, and I ended up with the wrong crowd. If I hadn’t met Hazel, my mom, I honestly have no idea where I’d be right now.”

Finally gathering the courage to look at him, Kiyanne immediately regretted opening her mouth. Part of the reason she kept her business to herself was that she hated the idea of anyone feeling sorry for her.

“Stop looking at me like you pity me,” she fussed.

“I don’t pity you, Kiy,” he released a heavy breath. “I’m just in awe of how put together you are after experiencing something like that so young.”

“Put together is the last phrase anyone should use while describing me. Trust me, I battle life daily.”

Shameek shrugged. “We all do.”

Kiyanne wanted to disappear as he stood gazing at her. But not because she was uncomfortable with the conversation. In fact, it was the opposite. Shameek made her too comfortable. She was out of her lane and didn’t quite know what to say or do.

“Well,” she cleared her throat and stroked her hair. “What’s your battle?”

“We can talk about that on a different day. I want to keep the focus on you.”

“Why?”

“Because something tells me no one outside of your mom has ever gone out of their way to make room for you. You need to be secure in knowing a space exists where Kiyanne is the center. Your thoughts, feelings, and words matter,” he insisted, his eyes never leaving hers.

Silence filled the room as Kiyanne studied him piercingly, contemplating why, after years of pushing people away and purposely isolating herself, the urge to trust Shameek was so strong. What was it about the boy next door that made her want to bare her entire soul after only a few encounters?

“We have twenty minutes left until the pizza is ready, so what should we do?” she asked instead of responding to what he’d said.

“21 questions,” Shameek shot her a devilish grin, rubbing his hands together.

Kiyanne rolled her eyes. “I don’t think so. That’s so high school.”

“It’s my night, remember,” he mushed her. “What I say goes.”

“Watch your hands,” she slapped his hand away, giggling.

“You hit me again, and it’s on, Kiy.”

“Oh yeah?” Tilting her head, she popped his arm. “What you gon’ do?”

“Remember you asked for it,” he warned as she sprinted around the island counter. “Hardheaded ass.”

“No!” Kiyanne squealed as he scooped her into his arms and lifted her off her feet.

“Didn’t I tell you to watch your hands?” Shifting her to one arm, Shameek tickled her with his free hand.

“Meek, stop,” she demanded, laughing so hard that she nearly snorted. “Please.”

“Say I’m the man.”

“No!”

“Bet,” he tickled her harder.

“Okay, okay!” Kiyanne finally screeched. “You’re the man.”

Sitting her on the counter, he maneuvered between her legs, planting his hands on the counter. Her chest heaving, Kiyanne wrapped an arm around his neck and rested the other at his waist.

“I told you to stop playing,” Shameek gave her a dimpled smile. “But I like how my name sounds when you say it.”

“Oh, do you?” she twisted her mouth.

“Yeah,” his voice lowered to a whisper. “I do.”

Before Kiyanne could register their proximity, Shameek pressed his lips to hers. Instead of pulling away, as her mind screamed at her to, she sighed softly and brought a hand to his face, kissing him back.

Shameek was the first to pull away, slowly, and Kiyanne tucked her lip between her teeth before asking, “What was that?”

“I don’t know,” he said, lacing his fingers through her hair. “But, I liked it.”

Pushing him away, Kiyanne hopped off the counter. “I see I’m going to have to keep an eye on you. You’re nothing but trouble.”

“And you know that.”

His wink, accompanied by a troublesome smirk, made Kiyanne feel that after their alleged date, she’d have to put some distance between them. She’d worked too hard to overcome her trauma to allow a man to flip things upside down. However, she wouldn’t let herself stress about it. For the night, she’d let her hair down and enjoy his company with no worries.