Ouch.Right.
Definitely not a morning person even though it’swellpast noon. I scratch the back of my neck, suddenly aware I might actually be intruding.
“Sorry. I still can’t believe you really let me come.”
She pauses, glancing back at me. “You asked to come over.”
“Yeah,” I say, following her toward the living room, “but you hate letting me get my way.”
She scoffs and keeps walking with me following.
The living room is small but warm. Sunlight spills through the window and the place smells like incense and weed. I’m almost triggered.
She drops onto the couch, tucking one leg underneath herself. I sit at the opposite end, leaving space, trying to be respectful but failing, because my body has already keyed itself to hers.
Then she starts rolling up.
“So, fuck me and my reactions to second-hand smoke, yeah?”
“You wanted to see me,” she replies, not even looking up before she brings the joint to her lips and takes a slow drag.
“Well,” she says, exhaling deliberately, eyes finally lifting to meet mine through the haze, “here I am. Here you are. What do you want?”
My throat tightens.
I’d rehearsed this. Sort of.
“I want to talk to you,” I say. “About maybe… continuing what we started.”
She doesn’t blink. “I already told you no.”
“Yet you invited me over,” I counter. “Why?”
She doesn’t answer me right away. Instead smoke curls out of her mouth as I shift on the couch, suddenly hyper-aware of how quiet it is.
“One condition though,” I continue to push my luck. “If it’s me… it’s no one else.”
“Yeah.” Her lips twitch. “I got that vibe very clearly.”
“I’m not playing with you. Me and me only.”
She studies my face, searching for the joke.
“Okay,” she says quietly.
My chest loosens a fraction.Did that actually work?
“You need anything from me?” I press.
She tilts her head, eyes warm now, softer than they’ve been since I got here.
“What do you want from me, Jabari?”
“Huh?”
She stands and takes a step closer. Not close enough to touch but enough that I can smell that cinnamon perfume again and feel dizzy.
“I mean why me?”
