Page 48

Then Antonio said, “That sounds serious.”

“It is.”

“Should I be worried?”

“That depends.” Hakeem folded his arms. “Are you trying to make me comfortable so I miss something?”

Antonio looked at him for a long enough second that Hakeem felt heat gather at the back of his neck.

“Miss what?” Antonio asked.

The hallway had gotten smaller around them.

“With whatever weirdness you have going on,” Hakeem said, aiming for brisk and landing somewhere closer to flustered aggression. “You’re very…” He searched for the least incriminating word and failed. “smooth tonight.”

One dark eyebrow lifted, and the silence that followed was catastrophic. Hakeem wanted to die instantly, but with grace.

Antonio tipped his head once, considering him. “Smooth.”

“Don’t repeat it like that.”

“You said it like I’ve offended you.”

“Maybe you have.” Hakeem rolled his eyes, fixing his gaze on a corner where he could briefly ignore Antonio’s intensity.

“Why?”

Because you were kind to me on the porch and then wrote me into a notebook, and now you’re standing in a doorway with a mug looking like the answer to an ill-advised prayer, Hakeem thought.

Out loud, he said, “Because it feels strategic.”

Antonio’s eyes held on his face.

“Strategic,” he repeated.

“Yes.”

A tiny shift moved through Antonio’s mouth, gone almost before it fully appeared. It looked like Antonio had encountered an idea he found unexpectedly interesting.

“That’s a very specific accusation,” he said.

“It’s an observation.”

“About my charm.”

A cold dread washed through Hakeem. “I did not say charm.”

“You implied it.”

“I implied danger.”

Antonio considered that with maddening calm. “Those can overlap.”

Hakeem hated how quickly his imagination betrayed him. He hated that Antonio could stand there holding a mug and say one sentence in such a rough, even voice and leave him feeling both defensive and overaware of his mouth.

He recovered with effort. “See? That. That is exactly what I mean.”

Antonio’s gaze did not leave him. “What do you mean?”