“Dem thing deh kinda unnecessary still,” he says, and I frown.
“No, they’re not,” I protest. “It’s just that we don’t use them everyday, so sometimes they feel irrelevant… but that nuh mean they are.”
“Dem unnecessary,” he says, pulling up outside the pharmacy. His tone drops final. “Mi nuh see the point s certain things.”
Whatever. I roll my eyes playfully and he leans over, pecking my lips before stepping out the car. “Mi soon fawud,” he murmurs, locking the door as he heads inside.
I lean back, watching him. Mi nah lie… the man’s fine. Calm. Confident. Moving like he’s born in control.
My phone starts ringing, pulling me out of my gaze. It’s Sash. I swipe the screen. “Yes, Sashieka Graham?” I say, full name and all.
She bursts out laughing. “Wah mek yuh a call out mi government so?”
I hear her chewing gum on the other end. I shake my head, laughing too. “Because mi wait pon yuh all day yesterday fi come prep for your interview and all now yuh nuh reach.”
I hear a man’s voice in the background before she lowers hers, whispering something quick. Then she picks back up like nothing happened. “Anyways, mi can come practice today since dem push it to Monday,” she says.
“Okay,” I reply just as Nickoi slides into the driver’s seat and pulls off.
“Yes, so what time mi fi come?” she asks.
“Mi deh pon di road now, so comr ’round five,” I tell her.
“Alright, baby,” she says sweetly before the line cuts.
Sound like Sash have a new man… but she nuh tell me a word. Strange. She usually would.
Nickoi’s hand shifts from the steering wheel, gliding across my thigh like it belongs there. One hand still driving, the other stirring heat beneath my skin. My legs tense and something flutters low in my stomach.
“Mari is your middle name?” I ask, my voice low.
He nods without looking away from the road. “Omari,” he says simply. “Father side run wid dat name.”
Oh. “Mine is Brittania,” I say, stealing a glance at him.
He smirks, eyes flicking toward me. “Eeeh?” he repeats, a little amused.
“You like it?” I tease, biting back a smile.
He nods again, lips quirking. “A probably she mi meet pan yuh birthday night,” he says, his tone loaded.
I burst out laughing. “Oh shut up, I was drunk,” I manage between laughs.
He hums low under his breath and I laugh harder, the sound filling the car. Then out of nowhere, he turns onto a road I don’t recognize. I pause, but he doesn’t say anything.
“Babe mek we play Q and A,” I say, turning toward him a little. “So we get fi know more ‘bout each other… the little things.”
He keeps his eyes on the road, jaw twitching slightly. His expression? Not interested. “Please?” I press, voice softening, leaning closer than before.
“Mi nuh play dem silly game deh,” he replies coolly.
I burst out laughing, dropping my face into my palm. Of course. Classic Nickoi. This is exactly why sometimes he makes me feel dumb. Not in a mean way, but in that frustrating, distant way he has. He never explains himself unless pressed. Apparently, some things just don’t matter to him.
“Please nuh,” I try again, peeking up at him with a playful pout.
He side-eyes me, lips twitching. “Aight. Cut out the Q and A talk. Jus’ ask mi wah yuh wah know ‘bout mi.”
I raise an eyebrow, laughing. “So… nuh the same thing?”
