Page 36 of The Wright Man

"Yeah. You got your skin clear, your braces off, your hair stay laid now... You not invisible no more, Angel."

I scoffed. "I wasn't invisible."

He shrugged. "To me? Never. I got sense. But them? They just now catching up."

That shut me up for a second. My stomach did this weird little flip, and I blamed it on the bad cafeteria pizza.

I stole a glance at him—tall now, lean muscle under that gray hoodie, sharp jawline he didn't used to have. Even his voice had gotten deeper, all gravel and calm, like he'd swallowed a storm and learned to live with it.

He'd "glowed up" last summer. Grew six inches, filled out everywhere, got that serious face that made grown men step back.

Girls had noticed. Hard.

They flirted with him, passed notes in class, made up excuses to walk by him at his locker. One even slipped him her number at the McDonald's drive-thru like she was handing him a damn job application.

It didn't bother me. Not really.

Okay—maybe a little. Fine. A lot.

But Maleek always made sure I knew where I stood. He never dropped me for anyone else. Never let the attention get in the way of our hangouts or our deep convos or our stupid inside jokes.

He made it clear: I was still his person.

Still, I'd be lying if I said I didn't wish—just once—that he'd look at me like one of those girls he pretended not to notice.

And right now, the way his eyes were moving over me?

It almost felt like he was.

He shrugged again, casual as ever. "You been fine, Angel. They just late to the party."

My breath caught.

I smiled, biting back the warmth threatening to spread across my chest. He said it like it was obvious. Like my beauty had always been a known fact to him.

We moved through the maze of orientation tables together, Maleek quiet and steady at my side like always, except... nothing else felt the same.

Everywhere we turned, someone was suddenly saying hi to me. Waving. Smiling. Inviting me to shit. Girls who used to look through me in the halls were complimenting my hair, asking where I got my nails done. Boys who used to call me Bucky Badteeth were grinning like we shared inside jokes.

It was dizzying—this sudden visibility. Like someone had flipped a switch over the summer and now I was worth seeing. I laughed and played it off, but every time someone tossed me a fake smile or a new invite, I glanced up at Maleek, silently going "What the fuck?"

Maleek smirked, clearly amused by my reaction to my sudden popularity. "Yeahhh, you're about to have hella friends," he added, scanning the room again.

"I already got the only one who matters."

He turned to look at me then, and the smile he gave wasn't a smirk—it was the soft one. The real one. The one he only ever gave me.

And then, like a rotten cherry on top of a perfect sundae, I heard Boyd's voice.

"Well, damn. Look who finally decided to look like something."

I stiffened. Maleek's posture shifted next to me, subtle but sharp. We turned together, like clockwork.

Boyd, Theo, and Gavin strolled over like they owned the place. Same smug energy. Same stupid faces.

Theo's eyes swept over me from top to bottom, landing back on my face like I was a new car he wanted to test drive. "You lookin' real worth it now, Reed. We gon' have to catch up this year."

I gave him a flat stare. "I'd rather eat a jean jacket."