Pointe of No Return: Giving You All I Got by Nako Page B

don’t have to lie,” she told him. Demi didn’t need to be pacified.
    “You’re right, I don’t have to lie to you and I won’t,” he told her.
    Demi asked her question again. “So are those for us?”
    Her friends wondered what was taking Papa so long to bust her cherry.  They were all waiting on the text to hit their group message that Little Miss Perfect Demi was no longer a virgin.
    Papa laughed. “Chill baby, you need some water?” he joked. Papa knew Demi’s lil hot ass wanted the dick, but the time would come when she least expected it.
    Demi turned her head in embarrassment. She never wanted him to think she was being thirsty. Demi assumed that Papa considered her fragile, unable to manage her emotions, but she could promise him that wasn’t the case. Demi wouldn’t become some lovestruck teenager, or so she thought.
    “Papa, do you take me serious, like do you take us serious?” she asked.
    Papa bit into a chicken wing sprinkled with hot sauce. Demi and her questions. Never had he met a female who asked as many questions as Demi.   He couldn’t kiss her without her asking him if he liked the kiss.
    “Yeah I do,” he told her.
    “But why?” Demi pressed for more information.
    “Ride the wave, Demi.”
    Demi didn’t know what the hell “ride the wave” meant. Did that mean shut the hell up and eat your soul food? Was that a translation for enjoy my time and I’ll enjoy yours and when it’s over it’s just over? Or worse, did that mean this was a summer fling and once the summer came to an end so would their time together?  Demi wanted to scream from the top of her lungs , I don’t want to ride the wave, I want to ride your dick. But she knew she wouldn’t dare be so crass.
    Demi Westbrook wasn’t raised to talk that way, but Papa brought out emotions and feelings she never knew existed. Even when they weren’t together and his low and husky voice was heard over the phone, Demi wanted him near. The way he answered the phone to check on her, it was all in his tone, his demeanor, and his character too. Demi loved him from the crown of his head to the soles of his feet.
    She didn’t care that he didn’t discuss his family with her, nor did she know if he was a dead man walking. Demi would unknowingly sacrifice it all to be with him, everything except dance. Over the past few weeks she had basically said to hell with her parents and their damn rules. Demi was over the social gatherings. Eating cookies and drinking tea with her mother wasn’t appealing anymore nor was having sleepovers in her parents’ room, watching movies and eating low calorie ice cream.
    Demi would rather ride around with Papa, have dinner with Papa, lay in the dark and make out with Papa, and do other naughty things that somehow never led to sex. But still the fact remained that being with Papa was quite enticing.
    Demi knew she was changing, she heard her conscious warning her that everything was transforming, but she tuned it out. She was enjoying herself, because come August her life would consist of dance, dance, and more dance.
                  She warned Papa that her schedule would change drastically, but he brushed her off every time. He didn’t want to talk about the nights that hadn’t even come yet. Demi was a planner and Papa was just thankful to open his eyes every day.
    “What you thinking about, bae?” Papa asked.
    “Our future,” she told him, smiling sheepishly.
    “Future, huh? You’re really feeling a nigga ain’t you?” Papa said proudly.  He was feeling damn good. Demi Westbrook and Papa. It had a ring to it if you asked him.
    “Just a lil bit,” she said, playing things cool.
    If Papa knew that Demi stared at him while he slept some nights he would probably think she was a creep, but she was always praying for his safety. Papa was special to her, very special and now that he was an important aspect of her life she stayed on her knees, praying that danger stayed far away