Little Black Book

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The little black notebook was right there on the corner of Dontae’s desk. Though it was a complete violation of her privacy, Parson picked it up without qualm. Day after day he watched her scribbling in the damn thing, tuning out the world around her. Okay, not the world, just him. Dontae Brooks fascinated him, incensed him, turned him on in a way that made it impossible to even try to think about any other woman. What was worse, she was oblivious to his plight. She rebuffed any effort he made to get to know her better, and they had worked in the same department for three long, tortuous years. Over the past fourteen months, three weeks and four days Parson hadn’t been moved to date, or even just hook up. His damn body rejected all but her. And she wouldn't give him the time of day.

The more often Parson attempted to get Dontae’s attention, the more she studiously ignored him. His jokes were met with a blank stare or a quizzical frown. Never so much as a shadow of a smile crossed her pouty, lightly glossed lips. Glossed in colors ranging from a deep pink to a dark plum; he’d categorized every one she wore. Inquiries of a personal nature such as “So, what did you do this weekend?” were never answered beyond a simple “Nothing much.” He would’ve just assumed Dontae was antisocial to the extreme, only he knew that wasn’t the case.

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