“But do you fight? It’s the best part, and J refuses to do it.” Jamal snorts, and she smacks him. “Stay still.”
“I’ve gotten into a few fights,” I admit.
“See, J, it’s normal.”
“I refuse to be labeled the angry Black man of hockey.” Jamal’s back is rigid.
She scoffs, but it’s something I never had to worry about. Teams have their enforcers, and it’s accepted, but Jamal stands out.
“Is that true?” I ask, watching his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows hard. “Was that rude?” I rush to say, thinking about the nuances I don’t understand.
“It’s not rude, but it’s exhausting.” Tyrone sets a glass of water in front of me. “Our boy worries about everything, and he’s decided fighting would be a bad look for him.”
I sip the water for something to do, but the aftertaste gets me. I’m spoiled with bottled water. “That makes sense,” I agree.
Jamal raises an eyebrow, and I’m sure he would say something else if we were alone.
Jada dominates the conversation as she works. “Your cousin will probably cuss me for this, but it was an emergency.” She stands back and surveys her work.
“You have a cousin?” I blurt out. For an instant, I think there might be family I don’t know, but that’s stupid. We’re not actually related.
“She’s talking about DeAndre’s niece. They’re my family now.” Jamal stands and walks through an open bathroom door off of the kitchen. He holds his phone to see the new braids. “Don’t worry about Nevaeh; you saved my life. Thanks.”
Tyrone walks into the bathroom behind him and traces the new braid with his finger. Jamal has no problem with Tyrone touching his hair. Everything I learned online about Black hair means nothing as I fight the urge to break Tyrone’s wrist. It’s a tiny half bath with a toilet and sink, so there isn’t enough room for two grown men.
Jamal turns, and they’re chest to chest as they make dinner plans.
“I’m gonna nap first.” Jamal steps out of the bathroom, and my mind is a haze of fury imagining them napping together. “Later.” Jamal leaves the apartment, and I follow like a goddamn dog.
He stops at his door. “Thanks for your help. I appreciate you.” He turns away from me. “See ya tomorrow.”
“You’re not inviting me in?” I manage to keep the anger out of my voice.
His eyebrows practically hit his braids, but he opens the door and motions for me to enter. I’m met with a riot of colors and textures. The walls are covered in art and bookshelves with books and sculptures.
But he’s the only thing I see. The only thing that matters.
As soon as the door shuts, I crowd him against the wall, barely an inch away. “Are you sleeping with him?” I growl.
Jamal’s mouth drops open, but he recovers. “None of your damn business.”
“I just made it my business.” Our faces are inches apart, and we’re breathing the same air. I’m being a controlling asshole like I have a right to demand who he’s sleeping with. I don’t, but Ihaveto know, and I’m not leaving until he tells me.
Somehow, my sanity hinges on his answer. It’s not at all rational, but reason left my brain a long time ago.
“Who do you think you are?” Jamal puffs his chest out so we’re closer. Heat radiates off him, and it takes all my restraint not to press him into the wall.
“I’m the guy who spent hours getting gum out of your hair only to be told I need consent to touch it. I bought you two things to help you cover your hair, and you discarded them like trash. Meanwhile, Tyrone touches you without issue, and you practically stuck your tongue down his throat making dinner plans. Are. You. Sleeping. With. Him?” I grit out, my control gone.
“What if I am? What are you going to do about it?”
His challenge scrambles my brain. One second, I’m inhaling his breath, and in the next, my lips smash to his.
His lips are softer than his skin. Like warm pillows parting for me. He tastes forbidden and like home—as if I finally belong somewhere. I explore his mouth,desperate to lick him everywhere. There’s a faint taste of the cola he drank, but the underlying sweetness is all him.
Then he gasps for air, and I’m afraid he’s having a panic attack again. “Theo,” he croaks, but I can’t face what I’ve done. Apparently, I have huge consent issues.
He’s probably sleeping with Tyrone, and I kissed him. He’ll hate me now for sure.
