“Is that why you bought them?”
David frowned, tugged my wrist to his mouth to give it a gentle bite that meant, fuck off.
“It is. And the blankets, they’re there because that’s my favorite color, right?”
He let me go and released an exaggerated sigh. “The world doesn’t revolve around you, would you believe it?”
“Your world does.” I poked his side, and he started pushing the cart again. “Doesn’t it?”
There was no response, but the faint smile on his lips revealed a simple, velvet truth. I continued teasing because I didn’t want him to see the thrill in my eyes. The excitement that undoubtedly made my smile too wide.
The guy liked me. Of course, the sex was an obvious indicator. But lots of people could have sex with someone —even someone they hated. Changing their lives was another story. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized just how much he’d changed for me.
“Yara?” David hooked his fingers around myjean hoops, holding me back from running into another person’s cart in the cross traffic of the aisle. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” I blinked and looked up at him. “I’m good.”
“Where’d you go?” he asked. Worry pulled at the corners of his mouth.
“Sorry about that! That was my bad,” the owner of the other cart interrupted.
I turned to see a dark-skinned girl in a tight, long-sleeved training top that hugged an impressive curve of muscles and a pair of baggy black sweats. Her smile was apologetic, hair freshly braided, and her cart full of everything from purple bedding to specialty popcorn bags.
“See? What I tell you?” a guy as built and beautiful as her with his dark brown skin and an easy smile offered a teasing reprimand. He turned the corner with his own cart, full of everything she had, but in a different range of colors. “Told you not to race.”
“You agreed to it.” She rolled her eyes, but the teasing curl of her lips hinted she didn’t feel an ounce of malice. The smile triggered a memory of someone I’d seen online.
“Are you…” I looked at the guy, recognizing him from her social media too. “Aderyn? Aderyn Jacobs?”
Her smile faltered a little as wariness set in. “Yeah… that’s me.”
“Uh oh,” her boyfriend murmured with a grin. “You’re in trouble now.”
She waved him off.
“I’m Yara.” I pressed my hand to my chest. When she blinked, confused, I added, “Emmy’s friend. From the Black Women's org on campus. We’ve been emailing. I wanted you on a panel.”
Realization softened her features. “Yara. Oh, man, I’ve been meaning to ask if you wanted to meet up before the panel. Talk shop. And maybe talk me off acliff.”
“Stage fright,” her boyfriend explained when concern tugged at my brows.
“I’m not used to talking to people without a visor blocking my way.” She waved her hand in front of her face. “This is Sam, by the way.”
He gave me a wave. “How’s it going?”
“I’ve been emailing you, too,” I smiled. It was one thing to see their beauty online and another to see it in person.
“I promise to answer back.” A bit of guilt bled through his tone. “Change of scenery’s been hectic.”
Aderyn and Sam were hockey players who’d transferred to Westbrooke from their old university, Mendell. A power couple in every sense of the phrase, it wasn’t just the talent and the skill, but their sheer confidence that made it vital I work with them. They were so wholly themselves in a sport so commonly dismissive of them. The wisdom they had about being a Black person in a predominantly white space was invaluable. And if the org had nothing to glean from them, I surely did. I’d been lost at sea, wondering how to fit in. Watching a few interviews with them made it clear they never worried about the how, but instead fit in on their own terms.
“Is it okay if we exchange numbers?” I pulled out my phone, hand trembling mostly from excitement, partly from nerves at making a decent first impression. “Maybe we could get coffee on campus?”
Aderyn smiled and nodded. “I’d love that.”
David rested a hand on my back, brushing light circles on the sliver of skin that peeked through my top. His small smile indicated he knew I was nervous. I tilted my head when meeting his gaze, a wordless challenge. There were butterflies in my stomach when he simply shook his head, showing this wouldn’t be used as ammunition. No, this time he was quiet support. My stability.
“This is David,” I introduced, finally with some of my bearings once more. “My boyfriend.”
