The Scammer(56)

“Or you can just lower the temp.”

“Eh. No can do. The boiler is old. We can only set it to hell or the Ice Age.”

“Seriously?”

He shrugs. “I don’t mind it. Look.”

He presses his fingers to my neck and I swat them away. “Ah! You’re freezing, you vampire!”

Nick laughs. “Why don’t you just take off your hoodie. Or should I say MY hoodie.”

I yank off his hoodie and I’m down to my leggings and a white camisole. Nick’s eyes flare for a brief second. He clears his throat, fidgeting with some books on his desk.

Cheers downstairs almost shake the ceiling.

“How do you sleep in this house?” I ask, watching the plaster crumble.

He repacks his book bag. “I don’t know. How did you sleep in that dorm?”

I think on it, remembering how most nights I slept fine. Except for the strange noises at my door.

Nick turns to me with a wince. “Oh. Too soon?”

“A bit.”

“Okay. Game’s almost done so we might as well get ready for bed. I’m not going to lie, I’ve been thinking about Love Island all day. People really sign up for this fully knowing the world is going to watch them make fools of themselves.”

I sit crisscross. “I bet you’d be a fan favorite if you signed up.”

Nick grabs the remote, flipping to the series.

“You’ve seen those bros. They are not the sharpest tools in the shed.”

I cackle, falling back on the bed. “OMG, you’re such a little old Black lady!”

“Yeah right, Ms. ‘I need my night night tea.’ Such a grandma!”

“That’s funny,” I say, fighting a yawn. “My brother used to call me Grandma too.”

“Thought you were an only child?”

I feel a brick smack me in the face and stop breathing.

Shit.

“I . . . I . . . huh?”

Nick’s lazy smile starts to fade. “You just said you had a brother.”

There’s no lie I can tell to wiggle out of this. Only thing left to do is to downplay it.

“Oh. Uh, yeah. He, uh, died . . . a while ago.”

“Damn,” he mumbles, shaking his head at the floor. He glances at the TV and clicks on an episode.

How the hell did I let that slip? I’m too comfortable around him. I need to refocus.

Nick says nothing else. Which makes me wonder why. Usually, when you say someone close to you died, people always want to know the gory details, watch you squirm as you explain, your grief on display like a torture porn.

We watch two episodes in silence until he finally speaks.

“Are you okay?”

It isn’t until he speaks that I notice the tightness in my chest.

“Talking about my brother . . . is hard,” I admit.

He rakes his fingers through his hair, staring off in the distance. “Yeah. I get it.”

I cock my head, seeing him. Really seeing him. And then it hits me. He’s been through the five stages of grief. We can all sense it about each other in some way.

“You’ve lost someone, haven’t you?”

Nick doesn’t flinch. He’s cool as a cucumber as he stands, grabbing a fresh T-shirt out of his closet. He rips off his shirt as if I’m not sitting there watching him undress. I look away, unable to erase the image of his abs and the cute little freckles on his arms.

“Let’s go to bed,” he mumbles. “I’m tired.”

I shake my head. “Why don’t you want people to know anything about you?”

“’Cause it’s not important. Who I am, right now, is more important than my past.”

“Not to Black people. Our history is our everything. It explains how we are the way we are today. That’s why so many people are trying to erase it. Don’t be like those people, Nick.”

Nick mulls this over.

“You’re not a bad guy, Nick,” I say, softly. “And not just because you’re an alien on campus.”

“Alien, huh? I kind of like that.”

I snap my fingers. “You know what!? For your campaign, you should lean into your differentness, instead of shying away from it.”

He smirks. “That’s not a bad idea. You’re kinda smart, Bambi. One sec. Don’t start another ep without me!”

Nick leaves the room, and I laugh, realizing this has been the most TV I’ve watched since coming to Frazier. Back home, shows were my lifeline. While most of my classmates were living their lives, I spent endless hours on series, both old and new. Even rewatching the ones I had finished . . . when Kevin was still alive. So it’s nice to be back in my safe space . . . with Nick this time. Even if it’s just temporary.

My phone buzzes and I scramble to grab it. A text message but from an unknown number.

You can’t hide with that white boy forever.



My lungs sting, the sweat under my arms pooling. They know exactly where I am.

I reach across the bed and peek out the blinds. The street is empty except for the parked cars, the road clear. But I sense someone is watching, waiting. . . .

“Everything okay?”

I spin around to Nick, standing in his flannel pants with a gray T-shirt, holding a cup of tea.