My first thought was that Ricky’s lips were softer than I had imagined. Fuller than Frederick’s, and smooth, like he used scrub or something—
The second was that they weren’t moving.
I pulled back, my heart racing in my throat. Ricky’s face was carefully blank, his eyes fluttering open and shut in shock.
Shit shit shit shit shit. What did you just do, Angie? I wanted to disappear, or cry, or both, but I couldn’t will my body to move, and so instead I stared back at him, waiting for the judgment that would inevitably come.
“Angie . . . ,” Ricky started, his voice softer than a whisper.
“Ah-ah!” an unfamiliar voice shouted.
We jolted apart, both banging our heads on the partitions behind us. Skull smarting, I dragged myself out from under the ion lights to find a short, severe-looking woman glaring down at us. Completely unconcerned about the damage she had just wrought to her customers’ heads, she pointed her broomstick at a sign plastered on the wall stating, in rainbow Comic Sans font, customers must remain two feet apart at all times!
“Too close!” she accused.
I stared at her in disbelief, feeling rather than seeing Ricky sit up beside me. Deux ex Ajumma* coming in with the save. I watched, mystified, as the woman tossed her head haughtily and swept off to go break apart other young lovebirds. Next to me, Ricky was holding on to his head and cackling, his shoulders shaking with mirth.
“So,” he said, wiping tears from his eyes, “you down for the Ice Room now?”
Fifteen
“Nia, I don’t know what to do,” I groaned. I sat at our dining room table, my face pressed against the cherrywood paneling. “Please, oh wise one. Give me guidance.”
Nia looked at me askance, squaring up her papers with a thud. Having completed her lesson plans for her tutees, she was now finishing her grading, and did not seem all that invested in my current romantic debacle.
“Easy,” she said. “You talk to him. Like an adult.”
I buried myself further in the shadow of my arms, shaking my head furiously. For the last week, I had felt like I was losing my mind, and my usual remedies weren’t working.* I had kissed Ricky, and he hadn’t kissed me back. Instead, he’d pretended like nothing had happened—though, to be fair, I hadn’t given him much of a choice. The moment our Peeping Ajumma stomped out of the meditation room, I filled every available second with chatter, reading every sign in front of every sauna, giving him an overly detailed description of a C-section I attended the week prior, encouraging him to pick up on the story he’d started on the drive in about his least favorite coworker’s inexcusable love for clip art. To my immense relief, Ricky played along, turning up the music on the drive back while I tried not to asphyxiate on my anxiety in his passenger’s seat. It wasn’t until we pulled up in front of my apartment that he turned to look at me, biting that bottom lip that I had kissed, oh my god,* as he said, “Listen, Ange—”
“Thanks for the ride!” I said brightly, tossing my backpack over my shoulders and throwing the car door open. “I’ve got an early morning tomorrow. See you later!”
“Wait—” he said, but instead I slammed the door shut. I didn’t want to stick around to hear what he had to say next. Angie, I’m flattered, but . . . No. I could still see the look on his face, saturated with red light, his eyes wide with panic. I didn’t need the gentle letdown. The “I just really value our friendship” speech. It was better to forget that anything had happened at all.
“。 . . I think I’m going to try it,” Nia was saying.
I sat up straight, wagging away my thoughts. I hadn’t even realized that Nia was still talking. I bit my lip, embarrassed to be caught so obviously in the middle of a daydream.
“Sorry,” I said sheepishly. “I missed that.”
Nia gave me an exasperated look.
“Unbelievable,” she muttered under her breath. Then she fixed me with a stony stare. “Girl, you probably just surprised him,” she said. She thumbed through her sheets. “Want me to save us all some grief and tell Shae to ask him?”
“If you ask Shae, they’ll know that I wanted you to ask, and then it’ll become this big deal,” I whined.
“It already sounds like it’s a big deal to you,” Nia said. Then, unceremoniously, she gathered her papers and stalked silently into her bedroom. I watched her go, flinching against her slammed door. I chewed at my inner cheek. Something was clearly wrong, but I couldn’t put my finger on what. There certainly wasn’t trouble in paradise, judging by the compromising position I’d caught Nia and her boo-thing in yesterday when I returned home after my shift. And I didn’t think it had to do with work; this block’s group of tutees hadn’t tried to bribe Nia into writing their essays for them even once. Maybe it was me? I shook that thought away—I’d hardly been around enough to get under Nia’s skin, and besides, if I did, she would tell me.