“Then get dressed,” he says again. “And put on trainers. We’re walking.”
“Where are we going?” I ask.
He smiles. “If I tell you, you’ll start resisting early.”
“I’m resisting now.”
“Yeah, but you’re still getting dressed.”
“Shut up, Jabari.”
It takesme longer than it should because my brain keeps trying to turn everything into a consequence.
If I dress up, it means I care.
If I look good, it means I want him to look at me.
If I go out with him, it means I’m choosing him.
My reflection stares back at me while I pull my hair into a neat bun. I put on lip balm, then take it off, then put it on again because I’m indecisive when I’m stressed.
I should really call my mother.
When I come out, he’s sitting on the edge of my couch scrolling through his phone.
He glances up and does that pause he does when he’s trying not to say something that will inflate his own ego.
“You look… alright,” he says.
I squint. “Alright?”
He smirks. “I was going to say ‘gorgeous’ but you would’ve booed me.”
“Good.” I grab my bag. “You learning.”
He stands and holds out the paper bag. “Eat this.”
“What is it?”
“Chicken patty.”
I stare at him. “I don’t eat meat.”
He sighs through his nose. “It’s vegan-chicken. I didn’t think it had a special name. Vicken? Sounds mad.”
I take it, suspicious. “Where did you even find this?”
He points toward the door. “I’ve been living in London long enough. Don’t disrespect me.”
I take a bite as we step into the hallway.
It’s actually good.
I refuse to say that out loud.
He looks over, sees my face, and grins.
We get downstairs and outside, and the air is cold enough to wake me up properly.
