Samara got out of the car, dragging her feet toward her place. My heart couldn’t leave her alone, so I got out of my car and ran to her.
“Samara, wait.”
She slowly turned around. “I’m fine. I need to sleep.” Her eyes were still filled with tears.
“Let’s chill for a little bit, okay?” I offered.
It wasn’t just her pain but also love. She harbored a love I believed I shared with Jesaiah, and Dio’s stiffening when she touched him suggested an energy exchange between them. Samara had someone who cared for her but was fighting for something he deeply wanted to join. As we entered her apartment, jealousy hit me immediately. Shewas a freshman with her own place, and love seemed to linger in the air. Small details around it made me curious.
“Do you two live together?” I asked.
She plopped on the couch. “Did live together. He left when he joined that fraternity.”
I moved around until I was sitting next to her. My eyes traveled up to a painted picture on the wall of a boy in a helmet. “Is that him?”
She sniffled. “Yes. That’s the Dio I know. I painted him.”
My eyes lit up. “Gurl! You did that!” I giggled.
She gave me a weak laugh, but it was something better than crying. I turned to her, excited. “You should showcase your art on Black Excellence Day,” I said to her.
“What’s that?”
I began moving my hands as I explained. “Well, it used to be where Dean Mercier brought people who were what he considered the Black Elite to campus, but it was all boring. They were a bunch of rich people talking about things none of us students were interested in. There are vendors and all that, but this year, the Gray and Gold are running it. What better way to display excellence when we have so much on campus? It’s not until the end of the semester, but I think you should think about it.”
“Maybe. I-I don’t know.”
I lifted her chin. “Girl, you have talent. I’m not going to pressure you, but I think it’s a great way to open up and put yourself out there.”
It was so easy to give advice to others until it was time to take my own. Seeing the painting inspired me to rally some students on campus to participate in the event rather than go on a citywide hunt for professionals. What better way to get them engaged than through their peers? As excitement filled me, my eyes scanned her place until I spotted a Christmas photo of her and the crazy lady from the café.
“Who are those people? I saw them at the pageant.”
She stood and grabbed the picture I pointed to. Her smile was bright and big. “This is my family. Those two are my twin brothers, Peace and Savior. That’s my dad, Chevy, and this right here—” she paused as more tears fell from her eyes, “—is my mother, Zaria.”
I nodded slowly. “They wouldn’t happen to get tea from Café Lane, would they?”
She wiped her eyes. “Yes, all their teas. Then something happened, and they stopped.”
“Samara!It’s me, Streets! Open up.”
Streets?Who the hell is that?I wanted to leave, but the urge to be nosy was stronger. Here it was, she was crying over Dio, yet a guy was at her door. Samara rushed over to the door, swinging it open.
“Xavier?” I said, confused.
He looked at me, then back at Samara like I didn’t exist.Well damn.No, we didn’t do anything, but he could have at least acknowledged me.
He grabbed Samara’s hand. “Come with me,” he told her.
“She doesn’t have to go with you.”
He pointed at me. “Apple, mind your business. Samara, come on. Trust me,” he said.
I stood up and walked over to them. “Samara, you don’t have to go with him.”
She looked at me, confused. “Apple, relax. He’s like my family.”
Xavier snarled at me. “Yeah, maybe you should find yours,” he snapped. “Samara, you need to stop hanging with randoms.”
