The Hate U Give(91)

His California King–size bed has been made, a rare sight. I never knew there was anything larger than a king-size bed before I met him. I pull my Timbs off and grab the remote from his nightstand. As I throw myself onto his bed, I flick the TV on.

Chris steps out his Chucks and sits at his desk, where a drum pad, a keyboard, and turntables are hooked up to a Mac. “Check this out,” he says, and plays a beat.

I prop myself up on my elbows and nod along. It’s got an old-school feel to it, like something Dre and Snoop would’ve used back in the day. “Nice.”

“Thanks. I think I need to take some of that bass out though.” He turns around and gets to work.

I pick at a loose thread on his comforter. “Do you think they’re gonna charge him?”

“Do you?”

“No.”

Chris spins his chair back around. My eyes are watery, and I lie on my side. He climbs in next to me so we’re facing each other.

Chris presses his forehead against mine. “I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t do anything.”

“But I feel like I should apologize on behalf of white people everywhere.”

“You don’t have to.”

“But I want to.”

Lying in his California King–size bed in his suite in his gigantic house, I realize the truth. I mean, it’s been there all along, but in this moment lights flash around it. “We shouldn’t be together,” I say.

“Why not?”

“My old house in Garden Heights could fit in your house.”

“So?”

“My dad was a gangbanger.”

“My dad gambles.”

“I grew up in the projects.”

“I grew up with a roof over my head too.”

I sigh and start to turn my back to him.

He holds my shoulder so I won’t. “Don’t let this stuff get in your head again, Starr.”

“You ever notice how people look at us?”

“What people?”

“People,” I say. “It takes them a second to realize we’re a couple.”

“Who gives a fuck?”

“Me.”

“Why?”

“Because you should be with Hailey.”

He recoils. “Why the hell would I do that?”

“Not Hailey. But you know. Blond. Rich. White.”

“I prefer: Beautiful. Amazing. Starr.”

He doesn’t get it, but I don’t wanna talk about it anymore. I wanna get so caught up in him that the grand jury’s decision isn’t even a thing. I kiss his lips, which always have and always will be perfect. He kisses me back, and soon we’re making out like it’s the only thing we know how to do.

It’s not enough. My hands travel below his chest, and he’s bulging in more than his arms. I start unzipping his jeans.

He grabs my hand. “Whoa. What are you doing?”

“What do you think?”

His eyes search mine. “Starr, I want to, I do—”

“I know you do. And it’s the perfect opportunity.” I trail kisses along his neck, getting each of those perfectly placed freckles. “Nobody’s here but us.”

“But we can’t,” he says, voice strained. “Not like this.”

“Why not?” I slip my hand in his pants, heading for the bulge.

“Because you’re not in a good place.”

I stop.

He looks at me, and I look at him. My vision blurs. Chris wraps his arms around me and pulls me closer. I bury my face in his shirt. He smells like a perfect combination of Lever soap and Old Spice. The thump of his heart is better than any beat he’s ever made. My normal, in the flesh.

Chris rests his chin on top of my head. “Starr . . .”

He lets me cry as much as I need to.

My phone vibrates against my thigh, waking me up. It’s almost pitch-black in Chris’s room—the red sky shines a bit of light through his windows. He sleeps soundly and holds me like that’s how he always sleeps.

My phone buzzes again. I untangle myself out of Chris’s arms and crawl to the foot of the bed. I fish my phone from my pocket. Seven’s face lights up my screen.

I try not to sound too groggy. “Hello?”

“Where the hell are you?” Seven barks.

“Has the decision been announced?”

“No. Answer my question.”

“Chris’s house.”

Seven sucks his teeth. “I don’t even wanna know. Is DeVante over there?”

“No. Why?”

“Uncle Carlos said he walked out a while ago. Nobody’s seen him since.”

My stomach clenches. “What?”

“Yeah. If you weren’t fooling around with your boyfriend, you’d know that.”

“You’re really making me feel guilty right now?”

He sighs. “I know you’re going through a lot, but damn, Starr. You can’t disappear on us like that. Ma’s looking for you. She’s worried sick. And Pops had to go protect the store, in case . . . you know.”

I crawl back to Chris and shake his shoulder. “Come get us,” I tell Seven. “We’ll help you look for DeVante.”