“Where you at, baby?”she’d ask in a low hum as if I was kicking it back in my condo there and not fighting for compensation for my damaged rep in a stuffy courtroom for five weeks.
“Well, I was just kidding, Ace. I completely support social media cleanses. You know when I was pledging—”
“Bye Chelsea.” Phat’s finger beats mine.
She presses on the screen and ends the call while flinging her body on top of mine.
My cologne is stitched in her pajamas and the scent from the walls at CeCe’s lives in her braids. She smells better than the calm Cali breeze. My hands jump from her ass to her face and cup her cheeks while her fingers stroke my chest.
“Are you jet lagged?” she murmurs, grinning.
“Am I ever?”
“No... and that shit worries me.”
She swipes a finger under my eyes and squints like she’s checking to make sure she doesn’t have to put her foot down somewhere in my life—with Pops, Quame, Cree, basketball, or when Mom is real heavy on my heart and I try to sneak away from home for a minute.
“You need to sleep on the plane instead of watching film.”
“If I did that, I’d be cheating myself.”
“Taking care of yourself isnotcheating yourself.”
“I thought we talked about what you need to worry about?”
“Here you go.” She rolls her eyes and then drops her lips over mine.
“Didn’t we agree no attitude before nine? It’s too early for you to be mad at me. I got a lifetime to rest, kid.”
She drops feather light kisses across my lips and pries my mouth open. Her tongue sneaks inside, swiping against mine even though shestilldidn’t know how to kiss and hated that I wouldn’t teach her how.
“You act right while I was gone yesterday?” I mutter around her tongue.
“I paid Jazmine’s invoice, both mortgages, and ordered groceries for both places. I even helped Mar’s aggravating ass pick his classes for the fall because this sorority is consuming Chelsea’s life, just like we said it would.”
We laugh together in quiet huffs while the sunlight peeks into our bedroom and settles against her face.
“I don’t know if she’s more obsessed with it, or Marcus. Mama said to let her have her moment, but if I have to hear her complain about learning their new stroll or how they’re wearing their hair this week, I’m gon' scream.”
I drag my finger down her nose. “Mom’s right. Let her have her moment.”
Her eyes veer off and scrape against my chest. “She has a point, you know?”
“Who? Mom?”
“No, Chelsea. People are wondering why I’m not there with you. I see it in the comments online and hear people whispering on campus like I ain’t cry and beg to go with you.”
She had another one of those snotty-nosed, blubbering crying fits while I was inside of her before the trial started and now I know what Mom meant when she talked about how her heart wouldn’t leave Pops no matter what happened. Phat sewed her heart to mine so tight that she even wants to experience the aftermath of Cheyenne-gate.
“It’s none of their business. You don’t have to prove your loyalty to a bunch of strangers. You did more than enough already.”
She shifts her weight forward with her eyebrows crawling together.
Mom would hate me if I had her relive Cheyenne admitting to being a taker over and over on the stand. Quame got paid good money to make sure she’d never see the inside of that courtroom in LA.
“Yeah, but I started it and I wanna finish it.”
“It’s already finished.”
