"Hey, space cadet," Mateo says, interrupting my spiral. "What about these?" He holds up a pair of simple all white sneakers.
"Those too," I say, pointing behind him at a cream-colored flat bottom canvas sneaker.
He asks the attendant for his size in both, and settles in beside me, kicking both sneakers off without untying them.
"What the actual fuck?" I ask and point at his feet.
At least he has the decency to look apologetic, but the fucker can't seem to do it without a smile on his face. A smile that is much more prevalent now that he's clean-shaven.
"I can't even look at you," I say. "Your face looks like a baboon's ass."
"Does that mean you don't want to ride it later?" he whispers.
"It means I will, but I won't be happy about it."
He reaches up to touch his bare face and laughs. The laugh reaches his eyes, and I think it's my favorite look on him. I itch to draw him like this, but then his sexy mask falls into place. His lips turn to an upside-down smile.
"Noted," he says, and looks down at his watch. "Yup, time to feed the Jade-asaurus."
Before I can ask what the fuck that's supposed to mean, the salesman returns with the sneakers. Only the second pair fits, and Mateo decides to wear them out of the store, thank God. He may be able to kick and slide his old sneakers on and off, but the new pair he legitimately needed my help with. While he pays, I head back out to the mall and sit on the bench outside the store.
I still don't know how he found my InASnap account, but in a way, it's a relief. Even Cooper isn't aware of the account. He knows about my drawings, they're all over the apartment, but my InASnap was something strictly for me. Mateo hasn't mentioned it again, and I won't bring it up, but part of me hopes he does. It'd be nice to have someone else excited about the traction it gets.
"Ja-ade," a voice calls. "Lookin' good babe."
I know that voice. That voice belongs to the last fucking person I want to see right now, especially when I'm out with Mateo.
"What the hell do you want, James?" I say, turning toward the sound of his voice.
"I can't say hi to my baby mama?" he asks, sauntering toward me. Two friends follow, like the lackeys they are.
"Don't fucking call me that," I say, standing to my full height, which in my boots is at least two inches taller than the sperm donor standing in front of me.
"Boys, this is my son's bitch mother," James says.
"You can call me a bitch all you fucking want. I own that goddamn title, but he is not your fucking son."
Over James's shoulder, Mateo exits the store. I see the moment he notices James and the two men flanking him. His body stiffens, his fist clenches around the bag in his hand, and his face hardens into something I've yet to see from him. Anger.
I give him a subtle shake of my head. I can handle this myself.
James takes a step closer. Behind him, Mateo pulls the rim of his hat down and lingers.
"He's my fucking son, you can deny that shit all you want, but I did my part," James says.
"Your part? Knocking me up and walking away? Fuck you. You're a fucking parasite."
"I offered to pay for your abortion."
"You fucking douchecanoe. On what fucking planet does that make him your kid?" I raise my voice. "Fuck you." The thought of not having Coop rips me apart. He's my reason for breathing. My everything.
Around us, people are slowing down. We're drawing attention. I clench my jaw, squeeze my eyes shut, then open them on a heavy breath.
"You're the one who keeps him from me," James snarls.
"No fucking way," I say, thrusting my pointer finger into his chest. "You showed your true fucking colors."
He pushes forward, shoving my hand away and licking his lips, his face inches from mine.
