Silence washed over them. The soft, warm, dangerous kind.
Zaire stepped closer, close enough for her to feel the heat off his skin. “So…that’s what you was tellin’ her about me, cuh?”
Meadow grabbed a fistful of her curls. “Lord, just kill me.”
Zaire chuckled. “Mmhmm…I didn’t know you talked about me like that.”
“I don’t,” she lied.
He hummed. “You really gon’ lie to my face?”
She pushed his shoulder. “Why you sneaking up on me?”
He shrugged. “I wasn’t sneakin’. You just wasn’t payin’ attention.”
She tried to stand but he caught her wrist gently, not pulling her in, just keeping her there. His eyes softened in that slow, careful way he did when he wasn’t trying to impress anybody.
Meadow gulped, her eyes locked on his hand around her wrist. His touch wasn’t tight. It was just steady enough to make her pause.
“Sit down,” he said.
She eased back onto the grass. Zaire dropped down beside her, one knee bent, the other leg stretched out. His chain slid down his chest when he leaned forward, elbows braced on his thighs. “You mad at me?” he asked.
“No.”
“You avoiding me?”
“No.”
“You lying?”
“…Maybe.”
A small smile pulled at the corner of his mouth.
Meadow looked away, twisting a blade of grass between her fingers. “We just…haven’t talked.”
“We’re talkin’ now.”
“That’s ‘cause you caught me showin’ out,” she muttered.
“Don’t act shy now,” Zaire said, voice low but clear. “You damn near broke your back for the camera.”
She covered her face again. “Please stop reminding me.”
“Nah. I fuck with it.”
Her hands dropped fast.
Zaire held her eyes. He didn’t smirk…didn’t joke. He spoke calm and certain, like he knew exactly what he was saying and wasn’t backing down from any of it. “I like watchin’ you be yourself,” he said. “You always trying to be everything to everybody here. You don’t get to be Meadow for real.”
Meadow’s breath froze between her ribs.
Zaire scraped his palm over his fade, thinking. “We ain’t talked in four days.”
“I’ve been busy,” she said quietly.
“That ain’t it.”
