“You have your mother’s ear,” she said.
“You knew my mom?” I asked.
“I did,” she said. “We crossed paths more than a few times. She had a gift of reading rooms.” Her gaze stayed on mine, steady, certain. “Looks like you got that from her.”
I received it, for once not accepting the urge to deflect, without trying to soften it into something easier to carry.
“I learned from watching her,” I said. “Took me a while to trust it.”
Yolanda nodded once, like that tracked.
“How long you been working like this?” she asked.
“First time holding a room like this,” I said.
She smiled, just slightly. “That makes more sense.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a card, holding it between her fingers for a moment before passing it to me. “I’m opening a vinyl cocktail space in Fort Greene,” she said. “Built around the music, not dressed up around it. I’ve been looking for someone who understands what that actually requires to help me curate the space.” The card rested in my hand. “Take a look. If it feels right, call me.”
“I will,” I said.
She held my gaze for a beat longer, then moved back into the room, leaving me with the weight of it sittingquietly in my pocket. When I looked up, Deion was already looking at me.
He didn’t interrupt the moment. Didn’t step into it before it was done. He waited until Yolanda had moved away, then came to stand beside me, close enough that I could feel the heat of him along my arm.
“That wasn’t casual,” he said, his voice low.
“No,” I said. “It wasn’t. She asked if I’d be interested in curating her cocktail lounge.”
He glanced to where Yolanda had disappeared into the crowd, then back at me.
“You’re going to call her,” he said. It wasn’t a question.
I met his gaze. “Yeah.”
Something in his expression shifted, not tightening, not pulling away, just settling into a place that felt steady and considered at the same time.
“Good,” he said.
I held his gaze for a moment longer than I should have in a room full of people, aware of the way the space between us had changed and the fact that neither of us was pretending it hadn’t. His hand brushed mine as he stepped back. Then someone called his name, and he moved, easy and unhurried, back into the flow of the room.
I turned back to the turntable and set the next record, letting the music carry forward.
When I closed the opening out with Jill Scott, “A Long Walk,” the room received it with the kind of recognition that didn’t need explanation. Conversations softened, people leaned into each other, and the air held something that felt complete without feeling finished.
I let the record play out, my hands resting lightly on the table, taking in the room, the people and the way it all held together without force.
Across the room, Deion stood with Marcus, listening, laughing at something that landed between them, his body relaxed in a way I had not seen before, or maybe had seen and just hadn’t allowed myself to fully take in.
He looked up, caught my eye again, and this time the smile came slower, unguarded, moving across his face without interruption.
I felt it where it landed as the room held. And for the first time in a long time, I wasn’t trying to decide what came next.
Chapter 16
DEION
Terrell waited untilthe bell rang and the room emptied before he came to my desk.
He didn’t linger in the loose, aimless way kids sometimes did when they wanted to avoid the hallway traffic or buy themselves another minute before the next class. He came straight up, backpack hanging from one shoulder, paper already in his hand, his face arranged in that neutral way I had seen on boys who were trying not to get read before they understood what room they were in.
