She frowned. “I need to talk to you, too. But later.”
“Nah, shorty. Now.”
Turning, I walked down a couple of steps. I didn’t get the sense that someone was behind me, so I turned around. She was still sitting in her seat, looking at Mariah like I hadn’t spoken.This girl is tripping, I thought.
“Ay, I know you heard me. Getcho ass up and come on,” I told her.
Farrah switched up on me so fast it was almost funny, chin tilting up, eyes narrowing. I guess she’d officially shifted into bougie mode, looking down her nose at me. “Mekhi, I don’t know who you think you are?—”
“I’m the nigga you got like five seconds to follow or you gon’ have issues.”
The words came out low, calm, but my blood wasn’t calm at all. It was still running hot from the fact that she was even over here.
Andfrom the way she got all stiff and stopped smiling when you walked up.You ain’t fooling nobody, nigga, an internal voice said. I shut that shit off immediately.
“Is there a problem here?” Mariah cut in, wide-eyed and messy, looking between us like she was ready to insert herself in business that had nothing to do with her.
“Mind yo’ business, shorty,” I said without looking at her.
I heard her kiss her teeth. “Nigga, I am. She’s definitely my business.”
I almost laughed. Almost. But my attention stayed locked on Farrah. She was still sitting there, acting like she wasn’t bothered, like she wasn’t about to get dragged off this bleacher if she didn’t move willingly. I lifted my hand slow and held up five fingers.
“Five.”
She blinked at me like she really couldn’t believe I was doing this in front of people.
“What is that for?” she popped, looking clueless and innocent.
She was bluffing her pretty ass off. I lowered one finger, my gaze never leaving hers. I wanted her to understand I wasn’t playing. Couldn’t play. Not when something was off.
“Four.”
“You don’t scare me, Mekhi.”
Maybe I didn’t. That wasn’t the point. I dropped my ring finger.
“Three.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, frowning like she was trying to hold the line. But her foot tapped. Her jaw tightened. Little tells she couldn’t hide from me. I raised an eyebrow as I put my middle finger down.
“Two.”
She sucked her teeth, loud and dramatic. My index finger descended.
“One.”
Her mouth opened, my name spilling out. “Mekhi?—”
She sounded somewhere between irritation and disbelief. I didn’t care. I started to bend my thumb. She shot up out the seat so fast the bleachers rattled. “Ugh! You make me sick!” she hissed, stomping down the steps like every metal ridge was personally responsible for ruining her life.
Behind her, Mariah leaned forward. “You okay, Cousin?”
“It’s fine,” Farrah snapped. But her voice wasn’t as sharp as she wanted it to be. Shorty knew. “I’ll be back.”
I let her walk ahead of me, giving her a second of space. She needed that—to feel like she made the choice on her own, even though we both knew she moved because I told her to. She stopped at the bottom and spun to face me, ginger spirals bouncing, eyes flashing that stubborn fire that always challenged me. I used to think I wanted to tame it. But nah, that would be boring. I wanted to let it rage.
“Just so you know, you don’t intimidate me, Mekhi. I just hate it when people make scenes.”
