“Tonight.”
“Why?”
“Cause I don’t wanna be responsible for my actions.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just what I said. Eat your food.”
I stared at him a few seconds longer than I meant to. I wanted to lean more into what he said, but the way he lifted the cup to his lips, signaling the end of the conversation, I dropped it. Instead, I ate my food while he alternated from watching me and watching his family. Once I was done, I got up to move around. I hadn’t come out to the party to sit up under him the whole night.
I mingled, laughed, got rubbed on like a genie in a bottle, and answered the same few pregnancy questions at least six different times. I didn’t mind though. I was having a ball jumping in and out of photos and being front row during the line dances. It was only when the baby started to ball up at the bottom of my stomach that I returned to my seat. Pryce was still seated in the same spot, and next to him was a bottle of 1942. His bucket hat was pulled low now, covering his eyes.
I stopped in front of him and lifted his head. As expected, he gave me that intoxicated stare.
“I think it’s time for you to head home,” I said.
“I’m cool. I’m vibing. Go dance.”
“No,” I replied. “You not. You’re drunk. Come on so I can take you home, lightweight.” I snickered.
“Why you wanna take me home, Dai?” he asked, rubbing the back of my leg.
I shook my head. “Cause you can’t take you home. Watch out. Lemme change my shoes.”
I stepped back and reached into my purse to get my flats. Taking a seat, I changed my shoes. Handing him the heels, I stood and gestured for him to do the same.
“Do you need me to hold you up?”
“Nah.” He held my shoes by the heel, making me laugh. “I got it.”
“Okay.”
Still, I grabbed his hand and escorted him to the exit. Halfway there, his father spotted us.
“Where y’all headed?” he asked, walking toward us.
“I’m taking the lightweight home. He reached his limit on drinks.”
He looked Pryce over once and smirked. “Now you know you can’t hang, son. I can take him home though, Dai.”
“It’s okay. I got him,” I insisted, causing Pryce to look over at me.
“Alright,” his dad said. “You driving?”
“Yep.”
“Okay. Gimme your keys, Pryce. I’ll take your car home, and ya mom can drive ours.”
Pryce handed his keys over without argument.
“It was good seeing you, sweetheart.” Princeton hugged me and kissed my forehead.
“Yo, Pop,” Pryce called out.
“Don’t start ya shit. Get home safe.” He hit his shoulder and walked back in the direction he’d come from.
“Don’t be letting no niggas kiss on you. Ion care if it’s my pops.”
