He actually said it. It shouldn’t mean anything.
Just drunk words after all.
Something he won’t even remember in the morning.
But God… it made me feel good.
eighteen
morning after.
Jabari.
I’m thirteen again.
I knowit immediately because the ceiling is too low and the music is too loud and everything smells like sugar.
Za’s birthday banner is taped crooked across the living room, balloons sagging everywhere ‘cause Dad couldn’t be bothered to hang them properly. Mum’s yelling from the kitchen about not getting juice on the carpet.
I don’t wanna be here.
But my parents make me because Za doesn’t have enough friends. Just her and Francine and losers from their Math and Drama club.
At least Mum let me invite a couple of my mates over so it wouldn’t be too bad. Then they invited their mates. Now we actually have enough people to make the evening interesting.
Spin the bottle is my idea.
I’m sitting cross-legged on the floor, back against the sofa, pretending I don’t care where the bottle lands even though my stomach’s been tight all night.
Frankie’s across from me, knees tucked to her chest, arms wrapped around them like she’s trying to take up as little space as possible.
She wants to play Mario Kart instead but we only have one controller and Dad’s hogging the tv.
She’s quieter than usual and has been since we sat down. I wonder if she’s nervous too.
It’s my turn to make the bottle spin now.
It slows.
Clicks.
Then stops right on her.
The room explodes.
“OHHHHH!”
“Closet! Closet!”
“COUNT TO TEN!”
Frankie freezes. Her green eyes flick to Za who’s not amused, then back to me. I try to make it normal.
“It’s calm,” I say, already getting up. “It’s just a kiss.”
She nods, but it’s quick.
We get shoved toward the hall closet. Someone slams the door behind us. It’s dark instantly, cramped and warm with coats brushing my arms. I can hear everyone laughing on the other side, counting way too fast.
