“What?” I put my hands on my hips.
“That was literally the grumpiest invitation of hospitality I think I’ve ever received, and believe me I’ve had some pretty rude offers in my lifetime.”
I want to argue with them, but I can’t because I heard how cranky I just sounded. I may have even gone to great pains to sound that grouchy.
“Well, your 3A ass is going to have to take it or leave it,” I say, lifting my hand to play with one of their locs. I watch as their mouth falls open.
“How do you even…” Their brow creases. “Fine. I’ll stay. But on one condition.”
“I’ll consider it,” I say, doing my best to neutralise my expression so it doesn’t reveal the little kick of joy I feel at knowing they’re going to stick around.
“No room service. I know this awesome deli that make the best chicken kale salads in the State, and they deliver.”
“Chicken kale salad?” I am relieved I can now cringe at them to conceal the smile that still wants to reveal itself.
“They do other things. I just need a healthy meal.”
“God forbid you don’t get your macros today.” I roll my eyes but discard the room service menu and walk back to my bed to find my phone. “Go on then, what’s the name of this healthy deli?”
“No, Maeve, I’ll get this,” they say, and they drop their bag on the bed and pull their phone out of their back pocket.
I stare at Loncey’s full kit bag on my bed for more seconds than I should. I stare at it and think things that don’t belong in my head. Things like how much I’m looking forward to oiling their hair. Like how happy I am that I won’t have to sleep alone tonight. Stupid, outrageous things like how a small but loud part of me wishes this was one of my mother’s romance novels and we were staying in a hotel room that had only one bed.
*****
“Okay, I take it back.” Loncey closes their eyes and breathes out a long exhale. “You do know how to look after Black hair.”
They’re sitting on the closed toilet lid, a towel around their shoulders, and I’m massaging oil into their scalp.
“I told you. Although Bella has never had locs as long as yours. I don’t think she has the patience. She mostly goes for twists.”
“She sounds fun, your friend Bella. Do you know her from school?”
“No. From ballet lessons, when we were kids. She’s still dancing now too. She’s a professional dancer.”
“That’s right. You told me that already.”
“Did I?”
“Yeah, you said you stopped because life got in the way and I found that sort of sad.”
“Well, we can’t all be prima ballerinas.” My instinct is to shrug off their comment even though I have much more to say. But would they even care?
“Hmmm.” Loncey tilts their head back even further and lets out what can only be described as a long moan. I find myself giggling nervously.
“You sound… you sound like I’m doing something else,” I say, stumbling over my words.
“And what would that be, Maeve?” Loncey asks in a voice that is deeper than their usual tone and their eyes open slowly to pin on mine.
I stop moving my hands. I’m frozen in place. Even breath doesn’t move my body.
“Sorry,” Loncey says, and their expression softens, their eyes growing warmer. “That was… unnecessary.”
I blink at them. I’ve started breathing again but my hands remain still. “What do you mean?”
“I was… being suggestive. And I shouldn’t have been. That was not appropriate.”
I take my hands off their head and use one to grip their chin, holding them still as I bend down a little.
