On the Come Up(69)

I bust out laughing. “Really?”

He goes, “Uh-huh,” and dances over to me. He stands me up and somehow gets me to lip-synch and dance with him. I gotta admit, I am smiling.

He does a moonwalk that’s worse than anything Trey’s ever attempted. I lose it laughing.

“What?” he says.

“You can’t dance, boo.”

“The shade.”

“The truth.”

He wraps me up in a tight hug, resting his chin on the top of my head. “If it’ll cheer you up, Breezy, I’m game for whatever.”

I wrap my arms around him too. I look up at him, and he stares down at me.

When he inches his lips toward mine, I don’t move away. I simply close my eyes and wait for the fireworks.

Yes, fireworks. Like in all those cheesy romance movies that I low-key love. This kiss is supposed to sweep me off my feet, make my heart leap from my chest, and give me all the tingles.

But, um, this kiss? This kiss ain’t none of that.

It’s wet, awkward, and tastes like all those Cheetos Puffs Malik ate a little while ago. We can’t even get our noses in the right places. My heart isn’t racing—there’s no boom. Hell, no bam. It’s weird. Not that me or Malik are bad kissers; nah, we know what we’re doing. It’s just not . . .

Right.

We step away from each other.

“Umm . . . ,” Malik says. “I, um . . .”

“Yeah.”

“That wasn’t . . .”

“No.”

It gets uncomfortably quiet.

“Umm . . .” Malik holds the back of his head. “Want me to walk you home?”

We haven’t said a word for three blocks now. Dogs bark back and forth in the distance. It’s completely dark out and cold enough that most folks are inside. We pass one house that has voices coming from the porch, but the people are sitting in the dark. The only sign of them is the orange flicker coming from the end of a cigarette. Wait, no, that smells like weed.

“Bri, what happened back there?” Malik asks.

“You tell me. You’re the one who kissed me. You’re also the one with a girlfriend.”

“Shit,” he hisses, like that part just crossed his mind. “Shana.”

“Yeah.” She may have caught an attitude with me, but this is foul, regardless. “You seem to really be into her, so why’d you kiss me?”

“I don’t know! It just happened.”

I stop walking. We’re far away from the voices on the porch, and it’s so quiet, I sound louder than I am. “It just happened? Nobody just kisses anyone, Malik.”

“Whoa, hold up. You kissed me back.”

No point denying it. “I did.”

“Why?”

“The same reason you kissed me in the first place.”

Truth is, there’s something between us, even if we’re not sure what it is. But I’m starting to wonder if it’s like a bad puzzle. The pieces are all there to create what could be a perfect picture, but after that kiss, what if they don’t fit together?

A gray Camaro passes us.

“All right, yeah. I’ve got feelings for you,” Malik says. “I have for a while. I kinda figured you felt something for me, too, but I wasn’t sure.”

“Yeah . . .” I trail off. No point denying that either.

“Look, I know you’re upset that I’m with Shana,” he says. “But Bri, you don’t have to flirt with Curtis to make me jealous.”

I squawk. Actually, I don’t know if the sound I make can be called a squawk. “Are you freaking kidding me?”

“On the bus, you were all in his face,” Malik says. “Then you defended him after the riot. You were trying to make me jealous.”

I look him up and down. “Wasn’t nobody thinking ’bout you!”

“I’m supposed to believe that?”

“Bruuuh,” I say, slapping the back of my hand into my palm. “Oh my God, that had nothing to do with you. Straight up.”

“Being all in his face had nothing to do with me?”

“Hell nah! I didn’t even notice you were on the bus! You got some nerve, Malik. For real. This is such a fuckboy move.”

“Fuckboy?” he says.

“Yes! Here you go with all this talk of feelings and kissing me, but you never once even hinted that you liked me before. But now, because I like somebody else, you suddenly have feelings? Get outta here, bruh. For real.”

Malik’s forehead wrinkles. “Wait. You like Curtis?”

Oh.

Damn.

I like Curtis?

Tires screech. That gray Camaro makes a U-turn. It races back up the street and skids to a stop beside us.

“What the hell?” Malik says.

The door on the driver’s side flies open, and a guy hops out. He grins at us with a mouth full of silver teeth. He’s got a gun in his hand.

It’s the Crown from the Ring.

“Well, well, well,” he says. “Look what we got here.”

I can’t watch him for watching the gun. My heart pounds in my ears.

Malik stretches his arm out in front of me. “We don’t want any problems.”

“I don’t want any either. I just want baby girl here to hand over her shit.”