I follow, because I don’t trust her not to slam her room door in my face.
Not gonna lie, I shouldn’t be staring, but it’s hard not to. Her ass moves under that loose moomoo with every step. I can’t even see her shape fully, but my imagination fills in the blanks just fine.
When we get closer to her room, my eyes start watering.
That’s when it hits me, it’s not incense burning. It’s bud—potent, sticky weed.
She picks up a half-lit joint from somewhere inside, sticks it between her lips, and sparks it again. The lighter flares, the paper crackles, and she exhales.
I prop my elbows against her room’s doorframe, hunching over her, watching the smoke curl past her cheek.
“Took me a minute,” I say, casual as hell, “but I remembered—what was it again? Chinaza’s birthday party.”
She doesn’t even flinch. Just drags deep and blows out slowly while retaining eye contact. At this point, I’m in her face, towering over her, and she does nothing. My body takes up the entirety of her doorframe, and the girl doesn’t even bat an eye.
I keep talking anyway because silence with her is punishment. Besides, I know what will get her talking.
“We kissed in the broom closet. I know you remember that.”
“I don’t.” She shrugs. Her voice is steady, like she’s bored with me already. Then she nods toward the busted table. “There’s the table. Do what you gotta do. I’m going to bed.”
No.. no.. no!
“You are lying! You have to be!”
She ashes the blunt somewhere inside her room, and I’m tempted to look over her head and take a peek inside.
“Jabari, I am not in the mood for your outbursts today. I’m tired. I was up all night. You said you came to fix the table, then fix. The. Table.”
And she turns away from me.
“Wait.”
“What?”
I don’t want her to leave yet, but I can’t force her to stay, so…
“Can you… help me?” I ask.
At least I can keep her around until I get to the bottom of her behavior and attitude.
“No.” She’s so cold.
“Come on. I need someone to hold the thing up at least.”
She squints through the smoke like I’m the dumbest man alive. “Look here, big man. I ain’t got time for your foolishness.”
“It won’t take long.”
“You got twenty minutes.”
“Thirty.”
“Ten.”
“Okay, okay! Twenty is good.”
“Great.” She exhales, slouches onto the couch, and flicks ash into another nearby tray. It seems like she has them all over the place. “And no talking. Your voice is grating, not gonna lie.”
