He took a long sip and dropped into the chair across from me, stretching his legs out like he planned to stay for a while. “All right, serious question. You busy Friday night?”
“If it involves you and dumb decisions, yes.”
“Fam, shut up,” he said, grinning. “I won Self Ridge Skylines tickets on the radio. Two seats. I am calling them floor-adjacent, so do not ruin it for me.”
“So regular seats,” I said, not even looking up.
He pointed the bottle at me. “You always got something smart to say. You coming or not? You need a break for real.”
I paused. My mind ran through the usual checklist like it always did—girls, job, bills, the plan for more hours at the rec, the plan to write Coach Peña that proposal, and the plan to keep everything from slipping. Then I thought about how long it had been since I did something just because I wanted to. How long had it been since I let myself exhale without feeling guilty for it?
“Yeah, I’ll go.”
He relaxed back, like he’d won. “Good. I was not about to let you turn into a seventy-year-old at thirty-two.”
Then his face shifted, less joking, more curious. Bryce liked to clown, but he also knew how to cut clean to the truth. He studied me for a second. “So, what about women? You still in a committed relationship with stress and responsibility, or you finally looked at somebody with intention?”
“I haven’t been thinking about women. Not past surface. Not past what I know I can’t maintain right now.”
“That is a lie,” he said, voice a matter of fact. “But go off, fam. You’re not hurting, Roman. You invested your money Grammy left you, same as I did. I know you put some aside for the girls. You’re not hurting atall.Your eyes always tell the truth before your mouth does.”
I let out a breath and glanced at the blank field on the application that saidMotivation.
“I noticed somebody today,” I admitted.
Bryce sat forward, elbows on the table, his interest activated. “Now we getting somewhere. Where at?”
“The Pour House,” I said.
And just saying it brought her face back—freckles, curls, focus, that steady way she spoke to those kids.
“She’s an English teacher that really enjoys working with kids. She’s gorgeous as fuck. She has freckles all over her pretty face and wears her natural hair in long curls braided down her shoulders. She feels steady, calming, and present.”
He tilted his head. “Did you get her number?”
“Nah.”
“Did you say anything past ordering coffee?”
“Nope.”
He stared at me like I’d confessed to a felony. “The fuck? You scared or some shit?”
“I do not step toward anything I am not ready to cover. I gotta get this swim job first, bruh. Besides, last time I tried that, it went left, and I had two toddlers watching me fall apart.”
Bryce’s expression shifted. The joking left his eyes. “We talking about Zuri?”
The name opened an old door in my chest, and air moved through it coldly. I was seventeen again, standing in a dorm hallway with my backpack on one shoulder. I had sweat still drying on my skin from work and practice. I had taken two buses after work and class to surprise her. Aunt Brenda had the twins for the night. I had bought candy from a vending machine because I didn’t know what else to bring, and I had this goofy hope sitting in my chest, thinking love was enough to hold everything together. I knocked. Zuri opened the door in a crop top and shorts with braids down her back, eyes wide like she’d been caught mid-thought.
“Ro? What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice sharp with surprise.
“You said you missed me,” I said as I stepped inside. “I finished studying early. Auntie got the girls. I wanted to see you.”
The room smelled like incense and liquor. Sweet smoke, something spilled. There was a shot glass sitting on the desk. Clothes were everywhere, like the floor had been receiving disrespect all week. A textbook lay open but untouched, pages flat like it hadn’t been turned in hours. Zuri’s hands would not stay still. They moved at her sides, touched her braids, and tugged at her shorts. She fidgeted like her nerves were trying to escape her body, and her smile didn’t reach her eyes.
“You good?” I asked, because I could feel the wrongness before I could name it.
Before she answered, the bathroom door opened. A dude walked out with his shirt off, wiping his mouth like he’d finished doing something he was proud of. He stopped when he saw me. His face drained fast, hands lifting halfway in surrender.
