“Sure.” She turned back to her baking. “You should go.”
“Zahara—”
“I said go, Prime.”
“Not until you hear me out.”
“There’s nothing to hear. You do you. I do me. We’re nothing to each other.”
That stung more than it should have.
“You don’t believe that,” I said.
“Yes, I do.”
“Liar.”
She spun around, fire in her eyes. “Get. Out.”
“Fine. But I’m making sure you get home safe.”
“I don’t need you to?—”
“I don’t care what you need. I’m doing it anyway.”
We stared at each other, the tension thick enough to cut.
Finally, she grabbed her things, turned off the oven, and stormed past me toward the exit.
The ride to her apartment was silent. She sat with her arms crossed, staring out the window, refusing to look at me.
I tried anyway. “The lipstick was from a friend. She hugged me. That’s it.”
Silence.
“Zahara.”
“I heard you.”
“Then why are you acting like this?”
“I’m not acting like anything.”
“You’re jealous.”
She whipped her head around. “I am not jealous.”
“You are.” I couldn’t help but smile. “You got a crush on me, Goddess.”
“I absolutely do not.”
“Then why do you care about lipstick on my collar?”
“I don’t care.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
She was quiet for a moment, then said quietly, “I don’t need you, Prime.”
