“But,” I add, softer, “I’m glad you did.”
That stops him and he looks at me for a long moment, jaw tight, eyes searching.
Then he exhales.
“Should we go?” He gestures toward the bathroom down the hall.
I wrinkle my nose. “Doing my feminine hygiene routine in front of you? We’re not there yet, big man. I’m sure this place has a guest room.”
“Down the hall to the right,” he says immediately. “Do you need anything?”
“Depends, you pack all my shit up from the hotel?”
“Yes, in my bathroom.”
“Oh well you take the guest room then.”
“Alright,” he says, then hesitates. “Well, just in case.”
He reaches into his dresser, grabs a fresh tee, and hands it to me.
I take it. “Thanks.”
“Yeah,” he says. “Anytime.”
When I’m donein the shower, I dry off, clean up, pull on fresh underwear and the oversized tee he gave me. I catch my reflection again. Still tired but clean.
I can work with this.
I track back to his room quietly. He’s already in bed wearing loose shorts and nothing else. He looks up when I hover in the doorway.
“You good?” he asks, voice low.
“Yeah,” I say. And this time, I mean it.
He shifts over without being asked, pulling the duvet back. I climb in beside him, keeping a little space between us out of habit. The mattress is firm, clean sheets cool against my skin. He doesn’t touch me but turns slightly on his side, facing me.
“You need anything?” he asks.
“No.”
“You sure?”
I nod. “I’m okay.”
He studies my face for a second, then relaxes. “Alright.”
The room goes quiet and my body sinks into the bed, exhaustion hits all at once now that I’ve stopped moving. My eyelids grow heavy.
“Frankie,” he murmurs.
“Mm?”
“Can I tell you something?”
“No.”
“Sometimes,”—Oh my days—“I still think about that night,” Jabari says into the dark.
