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“Y-yes. It’s clear.” I want to look away from his captivating eyes, but I can’t seem to be able to.
“Now, say thank you for getting you here.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, barely able to let go of the little air I’m holding.
His stern face doesn’t soften one bit. His thumb comes to caress the outline of my lips. “Good girl,” he says just as he lets go.
Oh, God. This man is so unyielding that hearing those words from him feels like earning a trophy.
He steps away from me and presses the elevator button. It comes in seconds. He steps in and turns around. “I’ll see you around, Miss Delacroix.”
I’m speechless, and I can only watch as he presses the button. His strong muscular body relaxes against the wall, milk chocolate eyes taking in my entire body. He runs a hand through his thick, brown hair just as the doors close, and he disappears.
I feel hazy, wondering if any of this happened. I’m unable to move, trying to process how my body just responded to his less-than-okay behavior.
The sound of a door opening resonates to my left and I blink back to reality.
“Alex!” someone exclaims. “Where the hell have you been, girl?”
I still can’t breathe properly. Ziad’s presence is lingering, his effect immortal. I’m having a realI Knew You Were Troublemoment.
“Is she in her head trying to match a Taylor Swift song to her imagination again?” Ella’s voice rings somewhere to my left. It brings me back to reality, and I laugh. My friends know me too well.
3
XI
fuck this town – glaive, ericdoa
I park my car on the street, right in front of my mom’s house, and cut the engine. Grabbing my phone, I text my friend Logan about today’s sales before going in.
I walk in to find my stepsister, Emma, debating with her dad.
“Xi, where the fuck have you been all day? We need to talk,” she snaps in my direction, pausing her current argument.
I nod a hello to her dad, Austin, before answering her. “Work.” Instead of listening to what she has to say, I head to the kitchen and take in the smell of my mom’s food. There’s only one person in this world that can put me in a good mood: my mom.
“Mama,” I call out to her. “It smells good.” Turning away from the stove, her face brightens when she sees me.
“Ziad, Assalamu alaikum, I missed you.Shalom.” I take her in my arms before letting her return to her cooking.
Mom was born Muslim Algerian, and my dad—rest in peace—was Jewish Moroccan. Since he passed, my mom has liked to greet us with both standards just to keep his soul alive.
“Shalom. Wa alaikum as-salam, Mama,” I greet her back. She gives me a big kiss on the cheek, pinching the other with her hand that smells of garlic, before tapping it.
“How’s the house?” she asks right away.
A grunt is all she gets. After my dad died, we lived in our old house for a while. My mom, my brother Lik, and me. Then Mom met Austin, and we moved into his house. Although it wasn’t much bigger than ours, just an extra room. Since Austin has two daughters, we still had to share a room here, and Billie and Emma shared the other.
I quickly moved out, taking over my dad’s house since I could afford the rent. There’s money in drugs. Dealing to Stoneview kids means I earn my share and can keep the place where I grew up. I can’t keep it in a good state, but at least we still have it. It’s important to my mom to keep Dad’s spirit alive. It was the first house they lived in when they moved from Morocco, and it was also the house where he died.
I dip my finger in the sauce she’s currently making, burning my finger but knowing it’ll be worth it. As soon as I try to bring it to my mouth, she slaps the back of my hand. I still manage to get the goodness to my lips.
“Don’t do that,ya hmal,” she calls me a donkey in Arabic like she always does when Lik or I do something stupid.
“Delicious.” I smile brightly at her, and she shakes her head, glancing back at her pots.
“Go set the table,” she mumbles, annoyed.
