LaTisha wasn’t even supposed to be in the box store that night. She’d come in for paper towels and almond milk — nothing life‑changing. But life had a way of slipping surprises between the aisles.
She stood in front of the herbal teas, tapping her lip, her full hips shifting as she read labels.
“Why they got thirty‑eleven kinds of chamomile?” she muttered.
A deep voice behind her said, “If you want something that helps you sleep, try the lavender mint. Calms the nerves.”
She turned — and nearly forgot how to breathe. Damn!
He was tall, caramel‑skinned, with cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass. His fitted shirt hugged a chest sculpted like he lived in the gym, and she could see the outline of a six‑pack through the fabric. A leather jacket hung open over him, and a matching flat cap sat low over his eyes.
Beautiful eyes. Warm. Focused. Like he saw only her.
“Oh,” LaTisha said, blinking. “Um… thanks.”
He smiled — slow, confident, devastating. “I’m Luis.”
“LaTisha,” she said, trying not to stare at his mouth. “You always give tea advice to strangers?”
“Only the pretty ones who look like they’re about to fight the shelf.”
She laughed — loud, unfiltered. “Well, I appreciate the rescue.”
And that’s how it all began.
They talked. About tea. About Atlanta traffic. About how he liked R&B and late‑night walks. His voice was smooth, his gaze steady, and every time he looked at her, she felt seen in a way she hadn’t in a long time.
LaTisha reached for a box of ginger‑peach tea just as Luis did the same.
“Oh—my bad,” she said, laughing as their fingers brushed.
Luis tilted his head, amused. “Looks like we got the same taste.”
“Or you just copyin’ me,” she teased.
He chuckled, low and warm. “Maybe I am. You seem like you know what you’re doing.”
She raised a brow. “In the tea aisle? That’s where my expertise begins and ends.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” he said, placing the tea in his basket. She noticed he had almond milk, honey, and the same brand of granola she liked.
“You eat this too?” she asked, pointing.
“Every morning,” he said. “You?”
“Every morning,” she echoed, smiling.
He nodded toward the front of the store. “You mind if we walk together? Since we’re apparently shopping twins.”
Her heart fluttered. “Yeah… I don’t mind.” She bit her bottom lip almost hard enough to draw blood.
They moved down the aisle side by side, their steps falling into an easy rhythm. She caught him glancing at her — not in a thirsty way, but like he was studying her, appreciating her. It made her straighten her shoulders, made her sway just a little.
At the self‑checkout, he stepped to the register beside hers.
“You sure you don’t want me to scan your stuff too?” he asked, half‑smiling.
“Oh, so you tryna pay my grocery bill now?” she said, pretending to be scandalized.
He shrugged, eyes warm. “Wouldn’t be the worst thing.”
She laughed, shaking her head. “Mm‑hmm. Let me handle my own tea, thank you.”
They scanned their items, the beeps filling the quiet space between them. Every now and then, their eyes met, and each time it lingered a little longer.
When they finished, he walked with her toward the sliding doors. The night air waited outside, cool and soft, carrying the faint scent of pine and distant traffic.
“You parked out this way?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she said. “Right by the cart return.”
He nodded, walking with her until they reached the threshold where the warm store lights met the dark parking lot.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Luis shifted his bag to his other hand. “I’m glad I ran into you tonight, LaTisha.”
She swallowed, her voice softer than she meant it to be. “Me too.”
When he asked, “You free for lunch tomorrow?” She didn’t even pretend to hesitate.
“Yeah,” she said softly. “I’m free.”
He stepped back, still watching her. “Alright, how about The Beignet Shop near Centennial Park at noon?
“Sounds like a plan.”
“Goodnight, LaTisha.”
“Goodnight, Luis.”
As she walked to her car, she could feel his eyes on her — warm, curious, and full of something she couldn’t name yet.
But she liked it.
A lot.
***
The beignet shop was tucked between a tattoo parlor and a vintage record store, the kind of place that smelled like powdered sugar and warm dough. LaTisha walked in, smoothing her dress, heart thumping.
Luis was already there.
And Lord… he looked even better in daylight.
“Hey, LaTisha,” he said, standing as she approached. His eyes swept over her — not in a disrespectful way, but like he was memorizing her. “You look beautiful.”
Heat rushed to her cheeks. “Thank you. You clean up nice yourself.”
“Come on, let’s get you fed.”
Before she could even answer, he gently placed his hand at the small of her back — just a light touch, but enough to send a warm shiver rolling through her. Her knees softened. Lord, she hoped he didn’t notice.
He guided her toward the counter, his palm steady, his presence wrapping around her like a quiet promise.
“You ever been here before?” he asked, leaning in close enough that she caught a hint of his cologne — clean, warm, a little spicy.
“No,” she said, trying to sound normal even though her heart was doing backflips. “But it smells amazing.”
“That’s ‘cause you’re about to order the best beignets in Atlanta,” he said, nodding at the menu. “Go on. Pick whatever you want.”
She hesitated. “Luis, I can pay for my own—”
He cut her off with a soft laugh. “I invited you. I got it.”
And the way he said it — not cocky, not controlling, just smooth and certain — made her melt all over again. This dude…
She placed her order, and when she reached for her wallet, he shook his head and tapped his card before she could even unzip it.
“Told you,” he murmured, eyes locked on hers. “I got you.”
Her breath caught. She wasn’t used to this — a man who was attentive without being pushy, confident without being loud.
With their drinks and pastries in hand, Luis nodded toward the back of the café. “This way.”
He led her to a small table tucked near a window — sunlight spilling across the wood, but the corner itself private, quiet, almost intimate. The kind of spot where secrets felt safe.
He pulled out her chair, waited for her to sit, then slid into the seat across from her, leaning forward with that same focused gaze that made her feel like the rest of the world had faded out.
“You good?” he asked softly.
She nodded, smiling despite herself. “Yeah. I’m real good.”
And she was — maybe better than she’d been in a long time.
They sat. They talked. They laughed. Luis wasn’t just nodding along — he was in it, leaning forward with his elbows on the table, eyes locked on hers like he was studying every expression she made.
So far he was perfect.
“So you really out here drinkin’ lavender mint tea?” he teased, smirking.
LaTisha rolled her eyes. “Don’t play with me. It helps me relax.”
“Mm‑hmm,” he said, stirring his coffee. “Or you just like bein’ bougie.”
She laughed, shaking her head. “Boy, please.”
He grinned — slow, warm, confident. “I like your laugh.”
That made her blush, and she tried to hide it by taking a bite of her beignet. Powdered sugar dusted her lip, and before she could wipe it, Luis leaned in slightly.
“You got a little somethin’…” he said, tapping his own lip.
She wiped it quickly, flustered. “Bruh, I’m over here lookin’ messy.”
“Nah,” he said softly. “You look real as hell.”
Something about the way he said it — steady, sincere — made her chest loosen. Before she knew it, she was talking.
“You ever have family just… drain you?” she asked, surprising herself.
Luis didn’t flinch. “All the time. What happened?”
She sighed. “My sister been trippin’ lately. Borrowin’ money, not payin’ it back, then gettin’ mad at me when I say somethin’. I love her, but… I’m tired.”
Luis nodded slowly, eyes never leaving hers. “That’s rough. You the oldest?”
“Middle,” she said. “But somehow I’m the one everybody calls.”
“That’s ‘cause you got that energy,” he said. “You steady. People lean on steady.”
She blinked, caught off guard. “You don’t even know me like that.”
He smiled. “I know what I see.”
She looked down at her french manicured hands, then back at him. “You real easy to talk to, you know that?”
“I try,” he said, shrugging lightly. “But honestly? You make it easy.”
She laughed under her breath. “You smooth as fuck, Luis.”
“Only with people who deserve it,” he said, voice low.
Her heart did a little flip.
She felt that. Deep.
And for the first time in a long time, she felt like somebody actually heard her.
Her stomach was trippin’.
LaTisha took a slow sip of her tea, watching Luis over the rim of her cup. He was too perfect — the smile, the manners, the way he listened like every word she said mattered. He just meshed with her. It was starting to feel unreal.
Then all of a sudden she felt pissed. She set her cup down and narrowed her eyes playfully. “Alright, Luis… what’s her name?”
He blinked. “Who?”
She leaned back, folding her arms. “Mm‑hmm. Don’t play dumb. You not out here single. Not lookin’ like that. Not talkin’ like that. Not smellin’ like you walked out a cologne commercial.”
Luis laughed — a warm, surprised sound — he leaned back in his chair and shook his head. “So that’s what you think?”
“That’s what I know,” she said, pointing at him with a powdered‑sugar‑covered finger. “Men like you don’t just be floatin’ around Atlanta unattached. Somebody somewhere is mad you sittin’ here with me.”
He smiled, but there was something softer behind it. “Thank you for the compliment,” he said, voice low. “But I promise you — I’m single.”
She raised a brow. “Why?”
He exhaled, leaning back in his chair, eyes drifting toward the window for a moment before returning to her. “Because I don’t do halfway,” he said. “If I’m with somebody, I’m with them. All in. No games.”
LaTisha’s teasing expression softened.
Luis continued, fingers tracing the rim of his cup. “Last woman I dated… she said I was too much. Too focused. Too attentive.” He shrugged lightly. “She wanted to play. I’m not built like that. I’m steady. I show up.”
LaTisha felt something warm settle in her chest.
He leaned forward again, elbows on the table, eyes locked on hers. “And I’m not the type to juggle people. If I’m sitting across from you, it’s because I want to be sitting across from you.”
Her breath caught.
He tilted his head. “Does that answer your question?”
She tried to play it cool, but her voice came out softer than she intended. “Yeah… it does.”
Luis smiled — slow, confident, and just a little dangerous. “Good. ‘Cause I don’t want you thinking I’m out here lying to you.”
She laughed under her breath. “I didn’t say you were lying.”
“You implied it,” he said, smirking.
“Boy, hush.”
He chuckled, leaning even closer. “I’m single, LaTisha. Very single. And right now? I’m glad I am.”
Her heart flipped.
“Why’s that?” she asked, barely above a whisper.
He didn’t blink. “Because otherwise I wouldn’t be here with you.”
Luis had just finished telling her how he didn’t do halfway love, how he showed up, how he didn’t juggle women — and something inside her cracked open like a chocolate nougat egg. Not in a painful way, but in that soft, unexpected way that made her blink fast to keep her eyes from watering.
Lord… somebody up there finally heard me, she thought. Grandma, if that’s you working overtime, thank you.
She looked at Luis — this fine, attentive, respectful man — and for a second she had to look away, because the feeling was too much. Too good. Too rare.
Luis noticed. “You okay?” he asked gently.
She nodded, swallowing. “Yeah… I’m good. Yep.”
He held her gaze a moment longer, like he was checking to make sure she meant it. Then he smiled — that slow, warm smile that made her stomach flutter.
“Would you like to come by my place tomorrow?” he asked, voice low, almost shy.
She didn’t even realize she was nodding until she felt her head moving. “Yeah,” she breathed. “I’d like that.”
Then, remembering she needed to act like she had some sense, she cleared her throat. “Um… can I bring my friend Sandra? Just so she don’t think I’m out here bein’ reckless.”
Luis chuckled, eyes soft. “Of course. I want you to feel comfortable.”
Something in the way he said it — steady, respectful, no pressure — made her chest tighten again. She pressed her fingers to her lips, trying to hide the smile she couldn’t stop.
“Okay,” she whispered. “Tomorrow.”
He gave her his address and phone number, then just like that, she felt it — that warm, dizzy, butterflies‑in‑her‑stomach feeling she hadn’t felt in years.
She was smitten. All over again.
***
The Uber pulled off, leaving LaTisha and Sandra standing in front of Luis’s high‑rise — a tall, concrete‑and‑glass building on the edge of downtown. The streetlights flickered, the night air cool against their skin.
Sandra crossed her arms immediately. “Okay, Tish… before we go in here, we need a plan.”
LaTisha groaned. “A plan for what?”
“A plan for survival!” Sandra hissed, eyes wide. “Girl, we don’t know this man. He fine, yeah. He polite, yeah. But Ted Bundy was fine too. I’m not tryin to end up in the middle east unless it’s a planned vacation.”
LaTisha burst out laughing. “Sandra, stop. Luis is not no serial killer or human trafficker.”
“You don’t know that!” Sandra whispered dramatically. “He could be out here collectin’ women who like herbal tea. That could be his whole thing.”
LaTisha rolled her eyes. “You watch too much true crime.”
Sandra stood there, slim and wiry like she could still outrun half the city if she needed to, her long braids swinging over one shoulder as she scanned the building like it was a crime scene. Former track star energy all over her — alert, ready, suspicious of everything that breathed.
She planted a hand on her hip. “Girl, I’m serious. You know how fast I can run. If he try somethin’, I’m hittin’ that staircase like it’s the state finals.”
LaTisha snorted. “Sandra, you ain’t been on a track since Obama’s first term.”
Sandra shot her a look. “Don’t get it twisted. Muscle memory is real. These legs still got a 4.4 in ‘em if necessary.”
LaTisha laughed, shaking her head. “You dramatic.”
“And you gullible,” Sandra countered, pointing a perfectly manicured finger at her. “Look at you. Eyes all dreamy. Smilin’ at your phone. You actin’ like you just met Idris Elba’s younger cousin.”
LaTisha rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. “I’m just sayin’… he’s nice.”
Sandra leaned in, lowering her voice. “Nice don’t mean safe. Ted Bundy was nice. Jeffrey Dahmer probably said ‘please’ and ‘thank you before he said ‘pass me the knife’.’”
LaTisha groaned. “Lord, why did I bring you?”
“Because you love me,” Sandra said, linking her arm through LaTisha’s. “And because if this man got a freezer full of body parts, you gon’ be real glad I’m here.”
LaTisha burst out laughing. “Sandra, stop! Luis is not like that.”
Sandra raised a brow. “Mm‑hmm. We’ll see. But just know — if he so much as breathes weird, I’m takin’ off. And you better keep up.”
LaTisha nudged her. “Girl, hush.”
Sandra smirked. “I’m just sayin’. Don’t let the abs fool you.”
And with that, they started walking toward the entrance, heels clicking on the pavement. Sandra leaned in close.
“Okay, last thing,” she whispered. “If I say ‘pineapple,’ that means we leavin’. No questions.”
“Pineapple?” LaTisha repeated. “Why pineapple?”
“Because it’s safe, it’s tropical, and it don’t come up in regular conversation,” Sandra said confidently. “Unless he got a pineapple fetish, we good.”
LaTisha laughed so hard she had to stop walking. “Sandra, you are ridiculous.”
“I’m alive though,” Sandra said, pointing at herself. “Alive and un‑kidnapped.”
LaTisha looped her arm through Sandra’s. “Look, I appreciate you lookin’ out. But Luis is not like that. He’s respectful. He’s gentle. He’s… different.”
Sandra eyed her. “Different how?”
LaTisha’s voice softened. “He listens. He sees me. I don’t know… it just feels right.”
Sandra sighed, her expression easing. “Okay. Fine. But if he even blink wrong, I’m yellin’ pineapple so loud the whole building gon’ hear it.”
LaTisha grinned. “Deal.”
And together, they went through the small lobby and climbed the stairs toward Luis’s apartment — one nervous, one hopeful. He met them at the door, apologizing before they even stepped inside.
“It’s a bit of a dump,” he said.
LaTisha peeked in. Minimalist. Clean. Sparse furniture. A single plant in the corner. It wasn’t fancy, but it was his.
“It’s nice,” she said, smiling.
He offered drinks. Sandra wandered toward the window. “Mind if we crack this open? It’s cool out.”
Luis’s voice sharpened — just a little. “I prefer it closed.”
Sandra raised a brow but let it go.
Luis turned on a sleek stereo. Smooth R&B filled the room, warm and slow. He looked at LaTisha.
“Can I dance for you?”
Her eyebrows shot up. Oh… so this is his secret.
Luis slipped off his leather jacket, folding it neatly over the back of a chair like he’d rehearsed the move. The fitted shirt underneath clung to him in all the right places — broad chest, tight waist, arms that looked carved. LaTisha felt it getting harder to breathe, and Sandra, standing by the counter, muttered under her breath, “Lord have mercy…”
Then the music shifted — a slow R&B groove, bass humming low through the speakers. Luis stepped into the open space between the couch and the stereo, his expression softening, his eyes never leaving LaTisha.
“You mind if I…?” he asked, already moving.
LaTisha shook her head, mesmerized.
He started slow — hips rolling with the rhythm, shoulders loose, arms gliding in smooth, controlled motions. It wasn’t a showy dance. It was intimate. Intentional. Like every movement was meant for her and her alone.
Sandra watched for a second, eyebrows raised. “Okay… he got rhythm,” she whispered, impressed despite herself.
Luis turned slightly, catching Sandra’s comment with a small smile, then shifted his focus right back to LaTisha — eyes locked, unblinking, like he was reading her pulse from across the room.
LaTisha felt heat rise up her neck. This man is dangerous, she thought. The good kind.
Just then, Sandra’s phone buzzed loudly in her purse. She jumped. “Dang, that’s my sister. She been callin’ all day.”
Luis paused mid‑step, nodding politely. “You can take it in the kitchen if you want. It’s quieter in there.”
Sandra hesitated — still half suspicious, half impressed — then nodded. “Yeah… okay. I’ll be right back. Don’t be in here doin’ nothin’ crazy.”
LaTisha rolled her eyes. “Girl, go answer your phone.”
Sandra pointed two fingers at her eyes, then at Luis, then disappeared into the kitchen, her voice already rising as she answered the call.
The moment she was gone, the room felt smaller. Warmer. The music seemed louder, the lights softer, the air thicker.
Luis stepped closer — slow, deliberate — his movements still synced to the beat. He wasn’t dancing now. He was approaching.
LaTisha’s heart thudded.
“You like the music?” he asked quietly.
She nodded, unable to look away. “Yeah… I like it.” She wasn’t just talking about the music.
He smiled — that slow, devastating smile — and lowered himself onto the couch beside her, his body stilling completely, as if someone had pressed pause.
And that’s when everything changed.
Then—
A soft chime. A female automated voice:
“If you are interested in this model 2VX.750, please insert your card into the slot and proceed with payment.”
LaTisha froze.
“Wait… what?” she whispered.
Luis lifted his hand.
A small card slot glowed near his wrist.
LaTisha jumped to her feet.
“LUIS! What is THIS?”
He blinked. “I am Luis. Model 2VX.750. Designed for companionship, conversation, and emotional support. Would you like to complete your purchase?”
LaTisha stared at him — at the perfect face, the perfect body, the perfect everything — and felt her heart drop straight through the floor.
“Fuck!” she whispered.
Click here to read more by Renee Tarot.
Urban Fiction, Black Romance, African American Fiction, Sci‑Fi Romance, Short Story, Atlanta Stories, Curvy Black Women, AI Romance Twist, Afrofuturism, R&B Vibes, Modern Love Stories, Black Women Writers, Romantic Suspense, Unexpected Plot Twist, Android Romance, Fiction Series, Women’s Fiction, Black Love Stories, Speculative Fiction, Relationship Drama
