Page 42 of Just Like Summer

“You like it,” he declared what she wouldn’t. “You can say that shit. I don’t cower.”

She nipped a small. “I’ve never been liked back for real.”

“I kinda like it like that.”

“Kinda?” Kamilla quizzed.

“Yeah, like I get to be the first experience of some solid shit. In return, I get some pure shit. On the flip side, you’re too good to ruin. I don’t want that blood on my hands,” Cairo admitted.

Kamilla pushed him back slightly. “So we can just be friends for real and forget the rest, right?”

He looked down at her, taking in those big eyes that were looking for anything but agreement to her suggestion.

“Oh… you thought I was just talking when I said I didn’t want to be your friend?” Cairo quipped. “Loco’ Tacos is a pile of nothing.”

Her eyes double sized. “That was you? That’s why Dania started laughing. Oh my God, Cairo.”

Her hands covered her face only for him to peel them away.

“If you can’t work in peace, ain’t nobody working at all. It’s that simple. Now, back to this friends shit. I’m not coming up off you. Get comfortable,” he punctuated his declaration with a kiss and pulled away before things got to heavy between them. “I got you some supplies to get started.”

Kamilla turned her attention from his eyes to at least twenty bags on the floor by the table. “Did you leave anything for anyone else?”

“Nah, you needed it all,” he announced, stepping back and digging into his pocket. He pulled out a couple bills and handed them over. “Put that back in your stash.”

“Cairo, no,” she huffed. “I’ll be fine.”

“You are and you’re going to have more than one semester paid for. Four years from now, I want to be the proud nigga at graduation,” he announced, nodding her to the table.

“Oh, four years. So you’re keeping me, keeping me,” Kamilla teased.

“On Azul.” Cairo gave her a lopsided smirk. “I’ll fix the plates; you cooked. Should I get used to this?”

She shrugged. “I got to earn my keep somehow.”

“Already earned. I haven’t had a homecooked meal since my nana died. I could’ve been running the streets all night, she made sure I had dinner on the stove, in the oven, or in the fridge. I could’ve been gone for days and she would just put it in a bowl and stack it up in the fridge. When I finally popped up, it was me and Nate and a grip of Tupperware bowls.”

“When did she pass away?”

“…Four years ago. Heart attack. Stressing about me in the streets. Mourning her daughter.”

“That’s a long time not to have a homecooked meal,” Kamilla commented. “I know you miss her. Is that why you don’t like sharing your space?”

He nodded. “In short.”

“I can’t get the long version?”

“Yeah, not today, though. I got to get creative and I’m teetering between laying up with you or turning a nigga into a garden,” Cairo muttered with a mouth full of food. “This shit is good, though. Ain’t that cheap ass out the jar sauce. Yeah, you stuck.”

“I think that’s just serotonin,” Kamilla quipped, waving him off. “It fades.”

“Not when it’s pure, K.”

fifteen

“Damn, y’all got this shit cleaner than when I fuckin’ bought it,” Fredo jeered as he finished the final walk through with Kamilla.

Dania was forced to stop in the middle of the cleaning due to the chemicals and her pregnancy nausea. Kamilla encouraged it and saw the small house converted into a studio as a chance to decompress and let her mind drift off. As much as she was looking forward to laughing and joking with Dania, the silence was needed.