“Riley, don’t you be wandering off anywhere! Weekend or not, it’s late!”
“Mo-ooom.” Riley raises her eyebrows at Mrs. Palmer.
Mrs. Palmer smirks at the both of us. “Five minutes, Riley. That’s all.” She clicks her tongue and disappears back inside of the house.
Riley sighs then turns back to me. Nods at my phone. “Is that your new jam?”
I forget that the song is still spilling out of my phone. I quickly stop it. “My bad. I just wanted to get your attention.”
“I think you got everyone’s attention.”
I wince. “Sorry. I figured your parents’ bedroom was that room downstairs.”
“Guest bedroom.” She looks me over and her mouth drops open. The same expression I gave myself when I scoped out the mirror at the hospital. Huge gash on my chin that peeked out of my bandage. A swollen lip. The dawning of a black eye. She reaches for me, but then pauses—her fingertips only centimeters away from me. “Are you okay?”
I swat a hand. “Solid. The hospital gave me the all clear. Nothing a bath with Epsom salt can’t fix.”
Riley hugs herself. “So . . . I hear you have good news?”
My face breaks into a smile. “Yeah. Nic’s home. MiMi’s happy. I’m happy. It’s all good . . . mainly thanks to you.”
Riley looks down at her feet and tries to hide her smile.
“How did you know?” I ask her. “How did you know where we’d be?”
“Bowie told me you ran out of the vigil like your you-know-what was on fire,” she explains. “Of course, we were concerned. I figured it had something to do with Nic. Then Sterling told us she saw you talking to that guy from Deer Park. Pooch, right?”
I nod along, urging her to continue.
“Pooch told me how you kept asking about Nic’s phone. Kept asking about the guys with the fraternity hoodies who had it. White guys in frat gear in this city could only come from one campus—JRU.” Riley’s hands dance in the air, detailing how she tied everything together. I watch in admiration, enjoying the moment. “So I filled Bowie in and we took our intel to Hunter. He had just shown up to the vigil with his wife. Of course, I made Bowie start the story because . . . you know.” She gives me a smile and I get it. Sometimes, when a clue comes from someone with fairer skin, cops are quicker to listen. Even cops from your own community. “Plus, Bowie had gotten a new reply on his Instagram post. Someone had spotted Nic at a DU party a few weeks ago. Next thing I know, Hunter takes off and I held my breath. I just hoped I wasn’t too late.”
All the words blend together and paint a full picture. Bowie seemed like he wanted to tell me something else at the vigil. Probably this new tip. Hunter and his guys must’ve gone to the frat house. Heard from one of the guests that Liam and his friends took off. Put two and two together that they might be headed to the same place where they dumped Kenny’s body. Nic and I got lucky. All because of Riley. And Bowie. The same Bowie I’ve been pushing away and who kept bouncing back.
“Thank you,” I say to Riley. “Things were looking real grim for me and Nic at first. I couldn’t save us.”
Riley swats her hand at me. “Stop. You found your sister before anyone else could. You would’ve found a way to save her, too.”
I take her hand and hold it. “No, Riley. Listen to me—thank you.” I push the words out from somewhere deep. Somewhere that hasn’t felt warm in a long time . . . until I started spending more time with her. “Thank you for tonight. Thank you for the past two weeks. Thank you for the last eight years.”
Riley chews on her bottom lip and snorts. Then covers up her mouth like she’s embarrassed. I want to pull down her hand. She should never feel embarrassed about anything again. “Well, that’s what friends do, right?”
“I was hoping we were more than that.” I take a deep breath. Play with her fingers and try to find my nerve. “Riley . . . I . . . I want to try this. For real. I want us to be an us.” My whole body exhales, like releasing those words makes me feel lighter than anything I’ve ever felt in my whole life. Like I was always supposed to say them.
Riley’s hand turns rigid in mine and she stares at me like I’ve just returned from the dead. Shit. I’m too late. I said some terrible things to Riley the other night and she’s had enough. She’s amazing. Probably the most amazing woman I’ve ever met aside from MiMi. She wants to find a guy that’s known how amazing she is all along and didn’t try to push her away.
But Riley doesn’t push me away. In fact, she grabs the back of my head and pulls my face to hers. She kisses me and I kiss her . . . then pause.
“Did I hurt you?” she asks, concern spilling out of both eyes.
“I’m good. I’m better than good. But . . .” I take a breath. “What about your parents? They don’t want you fooling around with—”
Riley puts a finger on my lips. “I’ll work on them. I can be pretty convincing.”
I smile. She’s never said truer words. I lean in for another kiss, and we both float and dance next to the moon.
Thirty
SLIM AND QUAN ARE AT IT AGAIN ON JAVON’S STOOP—despite Javon just getting released after being falsely accused of murder. Even despite it being the Lord’s day. It’s a lazy Sunday for me. MiMi felt that we had a good reason to skip out on service. She’s still at the hospital with Nic, getting her all squared away before signing her out. She told me to take it easy today, even though the doctor cleared me and said I didn’t have a concussion after all those head bumps the night before. I take advantage of it, though. Lying in bed and sending all these cutesy emojis to Riley to distract her from Sunday school. Yeah, I’m that guy now. The guy who sends hearts and kissy faces to his girlfriend.
Riley Palmer is my girlfriend. Man, a lot can happen in two weeks.
I peeled myself out of bed, though, when Officer Hunter called to tell me about Javon. Guess he feels so guilty for not believing me so many times—wants to make sure I stay in the loop. He hasn’t made it up to me completely yet, but I’m having fun watching him try.
I stand at the foot of Javon’s stoop, nod at Slim and Quan.
“Javon home?” I ask them.
Slim leans forward and rests an arm on his chubby thigh. “Who wants to know?”
I blink at him. “It’s Jay. You guys know me. I live right over there.” I point to my building.
“Yeah, but what’s the password?” Quan asks.
I frown. “Since when do we need a password to speak to Javon?”
“Have you ever rolled up here asking to speak to Javon directly, nigga?” Quan says.
I pause. “I mean . . . no,” I say finally.
“Exactly.” Slim leans back in his seat. “So, if you don’t know the password, we can’t help you, bruh.”
Quan stifles a laugh just as Javon strides through his building’s main door. “Man, y’all two motherfuckers need to stop screwing around,” Javon says. At that, the laughter fully erupts from Slim and Quan.
“Ha ha,” I say, smirking at them.
Javon walks down the stoop and toward the mailboxes. He doesn’t say a word, but I assume I’m just supposed to follow him. So, I do. He takes a seat on the bench next to the mailboxes, right underneath the trees. I sit right next to him. Lil Chuck and his friends toss a football in the street in front of us.