Page 88 of Saints & Sailors

What the fuck was wrong with me?

The front doorbell rang, sparing me from further embarrassment and confusion.

I turned back to Scott. “That’s probably him now.”

“Here’s some cash if you’re short.” Scott dug into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He fished out a couple of twenties before handing them over.

“Thank,” I said as I accepted the money.

Scott sat back in his chair. He didn’t budge to get the door. Because he trusted Dreux. He trusted me.

The realization made me feel good, but I couldn’t forget his words. “You should know I’m also friends with a guy named Bonham Church. He was one of my first friends I made here.”

The name drew recognition. “Aidan’s brother?”

Quickly I jumped to his defense. “He’s got a bad rep, but he’s not a bad guy. He’s like me. A little misunderstood.”

Scott drank in my response, not rushing to dismiss the idea. “Okay, I’ll take your word for it. Everyone needs a second chance.”

“Sometimes thirds,” I agreed, echoing Cameron.

I went down the hall and answered the door, finding Dreux on the other side waiting patiently. Back home, no one had ever rung our doorbell or waited on our front step for me. My mother didn’t approve of the boys. And Kevin had never tried. Dreux could’ve sent me a simple text, but here he was on our porch. It was small, but I liked it.

He was wearing a white T-shirt that featured an image of two Black men standing in front of the American flag. The image was in black and white, and above it in red letters was the word OutKast. I didn’t miss the way the shirt hugged his broad chest and emphasized his toned arms. With the gold chain around his neck and the pink breast cancer bracelet on his wrist, he made it look effortless. I bet he didn’t spend too much time on it at all.

Dreux took one look at me and a small smile curled the corner of his lips up. “You ready?”

“Yeah.” My voice sounded foreign to me, breathless.

It was only a school carnival, but I felt like I was floating as I followed Dreux down to where he’d parked at the curb. He opened my door for me and let me in first. No one had ever done that for me before. Even still, somehow it was so Dreux. Ever the gentleman.

Once he was behind the wheel driving for Horton High, the first thing I noticed was the song on the radio. Even if I was unfamiliar with the artist, I knew the genre was country.

A glimpse at the touchscreen confirmed it.

“Country?” I questioned.

Dreux kept his eyes on the road as he gave a shrug. “I guess I like a few songs and artists.”

The song playing was by a man named Chris Stapleton, and I had to admit, it was good.

“Well, I guess I can’t judge. I do like Cowboy Carter,” I confessed.

Dreux stole a glance my way, eyes widened. “No shit?”

“Yeah. You didn’t like it?” I asked.

Dreux was quick to shake his head. “No, it was amazing. I just didn’t picture you as a Beyoncé girl.”

Here we go. “Look, my mom and her best friend are the biggest fans. I had no choice. I’m almost certain if I didn’t at least appreciate Beyoncé I’d be disowned.”

Dreux’s laugh made my heart beat harder and I bit my lip at the sensation.

I grabbed my phone and went to my mother’s social media page to show him the photo of her and Joyce at the Beyoncé themed party she’d thrown last summer. Dreux pulled up to a red light and leaned over to get a good look, his cologne surrounding me and taking me under. It was intoxicating—he was intoxicating.

Dreux was oblivious as he angled his head and studied the image of my mother and Joyce. He smiled and tipped his head at it. “I get what era the other woman is, but what’s your mom’s?”

Joyce was dressed in theme with the Lemonade album, complete with the mustard-colored dress and baseball bat—something that had her husband, Everton, apprehensive the whole night. Dressed in theme with the B’Day album, my mother in her golden metallic dress with fringe on the ends couldn’t be missed. Her hair was even styled the same, with the effortless messy updo.