Close it.
Open it again.
Za notices. “What?”
“Nevermind.”
“What were you about to say?”
I shake my head. “Nothing.”
She studies me for a long moment.
“Okay,” she says finally. “But if there is something… you know you can tell me, right?”
“I know.”
She reaches out and squeezes my hand. I squeeze back, harder than necessary.
For a second, I almost say it. Almost tell her everything. The sneaking around. The late nights. The way we’ve been hiding the truth from her for almost a month now.
And the truth was I’m not sure I could stop.
I don’t want to stop.
But the words get stuck. So instead, I say, “Thank you. For having my back.”
She smiles, leans in, and presses her forehead to mine. “Always, Cici.”
We stay like that for a bit, whispering the stupidest things. Then we took turns showering, and she borrows one of my pajama sets that drown her, before climbing back into my bed.
Eventually, her breathing slows.
Her grip loosens.
She falls asleep still facing me.
I lie awake, staring into the dark, feeling the guilt of everything hitting hard.
“You two just left me out there by myself?”
Me and Zaza both jump when Jabari fills the doorway, one shoulder braced against the frame, eyes heavy, movements slow.
He’s clearly still drunk.
Before either of us can answer, he lumbers over and drops himself onto the bed, landing right beside me.
Zaza groans and throws an arm over her face.
“Woah—Jabari. This bed is a double. You’re way too big to fit in it.”
He waves her off without even looking at her. “Don’t worry. Frankie’ll make space.”
Then he turns his head toward me, eyes dropping. “She always makes sure I fit.”
My eyes fly open. “Suck ya?—”
Too late. He’s already stretched out, head sinking into my pillow like he’s used to this, gaze fixed on me in that way that makes my chest tighten.
