“Look, I’m not here to fight. Just trying to understand what’s going on with you.” Booda stretched out in the booth, legs spread, one arm resting across the back.
Even though we weren’t sitting close, it felt as if he’d reached across the space between us and found me anyway, touching places I had tried to lock down and leave alone.
Heat from the mug pressed into my palms, but it did nothing to ground me. He was still there, not across the diner, not inanother booth, but right here, crowding my thoughts, pulling my attention back no matter how hard I tried to keep it elsewhere.
That had always been his gift. Or his curse.
I leaned back and folded my arms. “No. I’m good. You can go now.”
“No,” he said simply, that one word spoken with finality as I watched him settle deeper into the booth, making it clear he wasn’t going anywhere.
“You’re being difficult.” I crossed my arms over my chest.
“I’m persistent,” he corrected. “There’s a difference.”
“Whatever,” I replied, my attention moving past him to the booth behind his shoulder.
Two girls sat there, watching us without shame. One leaned in, whispering under her breath, her eyes never leaving our table. The other tucked her hair behind her ear, trying to look casual, but the other bitch didn’t bother pretending.
I followed their gaze back to Booda.
I caught it all.
The interest. The curiosity. The way their attention stayed on him.
I looked down at my coffee, then back at the girls, then at Booda, then back at my coffee. My lips pressed into a flat line, and my nostrils flared as I took a slow breath in and let it out, forcing myself to stay still.
It didn’t matter what I told myself or how much distance I tried to put between us. Some things don’t disappear just because they should.
The girls were still watching him, and I was still watching them watch him, and no amount of telling myself it didn’t matter seemed to be doing anything useful.
I had always been territorial about Booda. Obviously, that hadn’t changed.
“You have people watching you,” I said loudly enough for them to hear.
Booda glanced over his shoulder, then looked back at me. “I don’t give a fuck about them, and you shouldn’t either.”
“I don’t, but I do want to know what those bitches keep looking at. Is it you or is it me?”
Booda smirked, his dimple creating a crater in his cheek that would’ve been distracting had I not been focused on those hoes.
“Obviously you. You the sexiest muthafucka at this table.”
I slammed my mug down as I slid out of the booth. “Hold that thought.”
“Koko,” Booda dragged my name in warning, but I ignored him.
The girls straightened when I stopped at the edge of their table, but neither of them looked sorry for the disrespect.
“You see something you like over there?” I asked, folding my arms, so I wouldn’t prematurely reach out and touch a bitch.
The one doing most of the whispering leaned back in her seat. “Maybe, I do.”
Her friend let out a nervous laugh. “Please don’t start talking shit. She might be a little too crazy, even for you.” She grabbed her friend’s arm, trying to rein her in.
My lips pressed together. “If you bitches stop watching us, you won’t have to find out how crazy I am.”
“Wasn’t nobody watching you, bitch!” the first one said, dragging her straw through her drink.
