“You felt guilty. I saw it. So I didn’t chase you. You can’t be contained, Emani. Don’t let no nigga box you in. No label, no brand. None of it.”
Emani’s drunk eyes drifted from Jahlil’s eyes to the ring she wore. For a moment, suspended around him, she forgot Malik even existed and that she ordered food. “Yeah, I’m going to go. Can you…”
Before she could finish the ask, he walked her over to the edge. As Emani got out, she grabbed her hair and started inside the house to find a towel. Jahlil, close behind her, grabbed her by the hand and led her in the direction of his room.
“I’ll walk you back. Put these on though,” he stated, handing her a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. “I’ll be by the door.”
Thankful he left her space, anywhere closer than she was would have had her crawling his body for a taste. Wet clothes in tow, Emani met him by the door, a small smile on her face.
“Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it. Come on.”
Emani walked in stride with him, taking in the peaceful silence void of the need to be filled with meaningless conversation. When they reached the steps, he held his hand out for the key. Reaching down her bra, she handed it over and gave him a innocent smile.
“I had to keep it safe.”
Jahlil bent over and picked up the bags of groceries and opened the door. “Damn, you were making drunk tacos and not sharing.”
“If you help, I’ll share. If you’re going to sit by and watch, you can trot right back down the street to your groupies.”
“I knew it,” Jahlil spoke with a smirk, watching her walk past in his clothes.
“What?”
“You were jealous.”
Emani rolled her eyes. “Says the man who was about to jack up his friend over a little twerk.”
Jahlil bit a grin following her into the kitchen of the JoyBed. “A little twerk? I was watching you. I’ve seen your music videos. There is no little twerk. I’ve experienced it. You know Ashton is a troll too. You know you give his little ass a little bit of attention and he thinks it’s license to loose his damn mind.”
“Now look at whose the jealous one.”
“Been,” Jahlil stated. “And you know that.”
“Whatever, Jah. You just talkin’ shit now.”
He moved to the bottle on the counter and opened it. “I’m not talking shit. How many niggas did I lay down for fuckin’ with you?”
Emani rolled her eyes again, pretending like the thought of Jahlil snatching someone up behind her didn’t have her wrapped around him. It did. Protection. Though he might’ve been slightly off, she had protection. It’d been a long time without it.
“One of ‘em is in my way but I’ll handle that,” he said, pouring a shot before moving to the bags of food.
“I heard that.”
“I wasn’t trying to whisper. You do know I can move him out the way at any time.”
“I’m not going to be a prize you two win in a dick swinging contest,” Emani replied, grabbing a pan.
“First of all, you already know who winning this shit,” Jahlil stated.
Emani stopped, placed her hand on her hip, and asked, “How do you know it’s not him.”
“Because if what you needed to be done was actually being handled, there wouldn’t be any room for me to step in. I wouldn’t even be in your mix for real. But here I am.”
“You’re mighty sure of yourself. Make yourself useful and open up the tortillas please.”
They moved around each other, three shots in because drunk tacos only worked while you were still drunk, pretending to ignore the barely there touches.
