He’s beautiful.
He’s not for me.
“Your poor mom.”
“She would agree. Anyway, I’m going to dinner at their house tonight, but we can catch dinner another night,” I say, and Theo’s face falls. “Unless…” My mouth needs a timeout. “You want to come with me?”
Chapter 20
Theo O'Keefe
The entire drive, I’m tempted to turn off and go home. Jamal drives slowly, checking his rearview mirror for me every few seconds, which is why I don’t. I’m not sure if he offered for me to come over to be polite or if he really wants me here.
At least I know he won’t punch me for the kiss. I almost threw up in my mouth when he said we could be friends. Damn, that was cold. But I’ll try. I’ve spent my entire life pretending I’m not attracted to guys. I’ve become an expert, and I can handle this.
My interest in him can only end in disaster. It’s better this way.
Jamal gets out at a light and jogs back to me. “I’ll park, then jump in your car to help you find a spot. It’ll be easier that way.”
I don’t have time to protest because he’s running as the light changes. He finds an empty spot on a street of attached two-story brownstones and rattles my passenger door because I forgot to unlock it.
“Sorry about that,” I say as he slides in, bringing a blast of frigid air and his warm body heat.
“All good.” He smiles and scans the street for parking. “We’ll have to circle the block.” Jamal sits on the edge of his seat, holding on to the oh-shit bar. He has a thick hoodie on, but I can picture his biceps beneath and the way it would flex when we turn the corner.
“Up here on the right.” I point to an opening in the cars, distracting myself from his proximity.
He shakes his head. “Fire hydrant. Turn left.”
“You know…” I hesitate. “It’s rude to show up unannouncedandempty-handed. We should do this another night.” His family must hate me for how I’ve treated him, then forcing myself on him. Not that he would tell.
“Nah, I texted Moms, and she’s happy you’re here. Oh, right there.” He points to a spot, and this time it only takes me two tries to parallel park. I’m sure he’s exaggerating his mom’s response, but it helps.
Jamal bounds up the steps to the walk-up and uses a key to unlock the door. “I’m home,” he shouts as if we’ve entered a family sitcom. The first thing I’m hit with is all the smells, not in a bad way but prominent. There’s food cooking along with warm, rich, inviting scents. It’s the opposite of the sterile house I live in. Even when I can’t smell bleach, I get whiffs of cleaning supplies.
His mom rushes down the hall, wiping her hands on a dishtowel, solidifying my assumption he’s living an idyllic TV-style life.
The entry hall is all wood on the floor and walls. I check the ceiling, but it’s regular plaster.
“Theo, welcome.” His mom takes one of my hands into both of hers. “I hope you like spicy. I made jambalaya for J before I knew you were coming.”
“I’m sure it will be fine, Mrs. Thomas,” I assure her, knowing I’ll either bail or stop for pizza on the way home.
“Call me Kenya. Mrs. Thomas is DeAndre’s mother. I’m not ready to be that old,” she teases with a smile. “Speaking of.” She faces the stairwell and yells, “DeAndre, the kids are here.”
She calls him like it’s an everyday occurrence that I show up with Jamal and it’s cool. I’m wound so tight, my muscles might snap if I stretch the wrong way. This was a terrible idea.
“Dinner will be ready in a few. Do you want something to drink?”
“Mom, you don’t have to serve us. I’ll give Theo a tour, and we’ll get our own drinks.” He hugs her and motions for me to follow him down the hall, the direction his mom had come from. Across from the stairs is a wide opening tothe living room with lots of windows, and I use the doorway to shield my phone from view and send a quick text to Sarah.
Me: 911
Me: Call me with an emergency to get me outta here.
She’ll accuse me of being dramatic, but they are over the top, too good to be true. Like they’re lulling me into a false sense of security to murder me. Maybe Jamal gets more money if I die. No dots appear to indicate she’s typing, and I hurry after him.
Jamal grabs us bottles of water from the fridge, and the simmering pot on the stove smells delicious.
