At the way I’m not moving.
At the way my breath isn't leaving.
At the way I’m staring at my thigh where his hand is,
but I can’t feel it anymore.
I can’t feelanything.
As if my whole body stepped out of the room.
Then Andrew turns, finally facing him.
His hand slides with him, cupping behind my knee, not wanting to let go.
His jaw flexes, the pulse in his neck kicking.
“Yo, you think that shit’s funny? Talkin’ about her like that?” His hand slips off me as he rises to his feet. “She’s not some fuckin’ hookup, man. You crossed a line. Made shit real hard on yourself.”
My heart slow-blinks at me like?—
Really, bitch?
You wanna fuck things up with this guy?
No one’s ever defended me before.
Not unless their name was Celie
or I paid for it.
The guy’s voice sweeps the room, amused, “Yo, I'm just sayin'—kinda weird to play boyfriend when you just had your dick in someone last week.”
My eyes snap up.
The guy’s smirking,
eyes crawling over my body.
Then he nods at me,
his smile jerking off to the tension.
“Did you tell her about your Friday Night Fuck tradition or nah?”
Andrew sneaks a look at me.
I avoid his gaze, and any grain of truth living in his eyes.
He turns back to the guy,
snaps his fingers once, loud.
“Yo—up here. Eyes off her.
“You ain’t got no business lookin’ at her.”
Then his voice goes so low, so cold, so calm
