Needy Little Things(48)
“Weren’t there cameras or something?”
“When you know you want to fight someone, you track him all day. Wait for him to walk into a blind spot. Wait for a time when other kids won’t really be around to record it. He wasn’t fighting for clout.” He offers me another hit.
I shake my head. “Still not my thing, I think.”
He puts it out and pops a couple of Altoids.
“What happened after the teacher spoke out?” I accept some mints, which immediately cool my mouth and open my sinuses.
“I changed schools, but the rumors followed me. Mom told my dad she wanted to go home to Atlanta and give me a fresh start. Dad thought it was best if we went without him and filed for divorce two weeks later. We moved here three months after that. Stayed with my aunt Naomi while some repairs were being done on this place. That’s when I worked on the backyard.”
“I’m sorry you went through all of that.”
“Brought it on myself. I was a bad person.”
“You did a bad thing, and it got blown out of proportion.” I wait until the silence forces him to look at me. “I still think good things about you.”
His eyes search mine, trying to fish out any hint of uncertainty or dishonesty. I make sure not to look away from him. He won’t find what he’s looking for, and he smiles softly when he realizes this.
“Tell me what happened with you and Malcolm.”
I roll onto my back and let out a dramatic groan. “I was insensitive. I should have known better than to talk to him about Danny. He’s not in any space to understand why it bothers me so much.”
“I don’t think you need to be in any special space to empathize with why that’s upsetting for you.”
“It’s not that he can’t or doesn’t empathize, but after Tessa, and now Deja—I just shouldn’t have brought it up around him. They are so much bigger in comparison. I know that. I feel that to my core. But…”
He props himself up on his elbow and looks down at me. “But you feel other things, too?”
I nod, playing with the string of his hooded jacket, wanting to tug him closer.
“That’s okay, you know.” He lets his gaze linger on my mouth before returning to my eyes.
“I know.” I swear I can hear both our hearts pounding as I raise my hand to his face and gently run my thumb over his scar. He stays completely still, eyes warm and steady on mine as I trail my fingertips down his cheek and across his jawline. My mind is hazy, like a cloud, and it feels so good to lean into it. To let all my complex and conflicting emotions swirl together until there’s nothing distinct left. To allow my body to act without running through some infinite list of pros and cons. I position myself so my face is only inches away from his. Crickets whisper from the bushes and a light breeze tickles the back of my neck as I lean in close enough for the skin of my bottom lip to graze his. Pillowy soft. I pull away with a slight grin. “Carmex game on point.”
He exhales a laugh, blowing the strong, minty smell of Altoids over my face.
“Breath too.”
“You forever got jokes, huh?”
“Not just jokes.” I want him to ask me what else and make this moment perfect.
His lips curve upward. “What else?”
I kiss him, slowly, and all the little demons that have been plaguing me flutter away.
For now.
CHAPTER 20
Friday afternoon, Jude and I post up inside the Five Points MARTA train station. Last night I told him about my idea to make some extra money and he didn’t have any of the hang-ups Malcolm did. Of course he didn’t. He hasn’t seen any gnats in action. I insisted he accept a 20 percent cut for helping me. Made it seem like being my assistant and keeping me organized was going to be the most painstaking job he’s ever done. He’d joked that he’d tutored me for free so he can handle anything. I was glad to have him distracted with teasing me. Because telling him the truth, that I’m scared to do this alone, would have for sure deterred him. And we have no time for that. I have until 5:00 P.M. Sunday to submit the payment for Josiah’s camp. He’s stopped texting me about it, so I know he thinks it’s a lost cause. That’ll only make his reaction a hundred times better when I tell him he’s going. I need to see that reaction. And I need to see that progress bar on Danny’s fundraiser move. And I need to help Ms. Jasmine raise money to hire a private investigator. These are things I have control over. These are things I can make happen. But to eliminate the skeevy feeling of exploiting my ability for cash, I’m making this a tip-based endeavor. If I get lucky, someone will find use for their object quickly and tip heavily. And maybe even spread the word.
It takes twenty-two minutes to get lucky, and then I have a steady stream of people coming to see what I might have for them. A tall, brown-skinned man in need of socks approaches. I fish around and hand him a fresh two-pack.
“Socks? I just bought me some new ones yesterday.” He extends his arm to give them back when a guy on a skateboard zooms between us, knocking a McDonald’s Sprite from the hand of a little kid. The drink spills all over the tall guy’s Crocs.
He rises onto his tiptoes and settles back down again, the moisture in his socks causing a squelching sound. Then he bursts out into laughter, wagging an index finger at me. “Did you set that up?”