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“Other than the first night. ’Cuz you were cuffed.”
“Yeah. There was that. But after that, I was good. I wasn’t even scared at the Valentine place the nights in Jojo’s room before you were there. Because I knew you were close.”
“Maybe ‘cuz you were too busy bein’ pissed at me to be scared.”
She snuggled in some more. “Maybe that, too.”
“I don’t like sleepin’ with anyone,” I told her. “Haven’t slept beside a woman in about three years. Didn’t trust anyone to be there when I was vulnerable.”
She lifted her head and looked into my eyes. “That’s why you were so salty.”
“I kinda dig it now,” I admitted.
“You didn’t at first.”
“No. Not that first night, definitely not.”
She looked sheepish. “I’m fidgety. It got on your nerves.”
“Fuck yeah, you are.”
“I’ve been tryin’ to be better about that. So you wouldn’t have any reason to bitch me out.”
I reared back into the pillows. “Bitch you out?”
She laughed.
I spanked her ass twice.
She giggled and threw her arms around me, squirming close. “Not that I’m calling you a bitch.”
“You just bought yourself light switch duty.” I slapped her ass again.
She giggled again and rolled off me, then hit the switch on the wall before coming back to me.
I pulled her close and kissed her.
“Goodnight, Jesse,” she whispered against my mouth.
“Night, baby.” I kissed her again and then wrapped my arms around her as she settled her head on my pec.
Yeah, I held her thinking that though I wasn’t thrilled about sharing a bed with her when this thing got going, it felt very right to have her beside me. On me. Her scent in my lungs. Her warmth wrapped around me. And it occurred that she was still pretty fuckin’ fidgety, but unlike those first few nights when it drove me bananas, now I was kinda all right with it. Maybe because through the night it became the norm to wake and remind myself I was no longer incarcerated. No longer trapped. Havin’ Gigi beside me fidgeting reminded me that not only was I not behind bars, but also… she was safe.
***
The two of us were in the corner at a table in the clubhouse’s makeshift cafeteria. It was a multipurpose space often used to feed a crowd and today it was set up with long tables and folding chairs for guests to sit on along with a table of food and coffee against the wall.
Most times when you’re at the mother charter as a guest you’re relying on prospects in the morning for food and coffee. There was always food in the kitchen to make yourself something quick, but when there were events, Delia put effort in. This morning, since there were a fair few guests after last night’s church sesh, there was a breakfast spread. Delia was there with a few other women doling out stacks from three types of pancakes, scoops of scrambled eggs, and ham steaks. There were also a couple fruit trays and boxes of donuts to the side.
I forked pancakes into my mouth while she pushed scrambled eggs around with her fork.
“Something wrong?” I asked. “Pancake envy?”
“Somethin’ like that. And these eggs are pretty lackluster compared to how you do ‘em.”
I smiled. “Don’t say that too loud in case the person who cooked ‘em is nearby.”
She winced and then put her mug to her lips.
A few bites later I knew her mood was about more than the boring eggs.
“Somethin’ else, babe?”
She shrugged. “I’m all right.” She smiled, but she didn’t seem like she meant it.
“Somethin’s weighing on you. Tell me later,” I whispered.
She flinched. “You already read me, don’t you?”
“Always been good at reading people. But yeah. You’re not hard to read.” I reached under the table and grabbed her knee, which was jiggling.
“I kinda am, actually,” she said, “for most people. Or else they could read me but don’t bother to try or don’t care to pay attention.”
“Not saying I know what’s up, just that there is somethin’ up. Then again, since you’re here with me after the night we had which you said made you happy-”
“It did!”
I continued, “Then I’m gonna assume it’s either that you’re in your head about the shit that went down yesterday with your aunt, the conversation with your father, or that you’re down about Kailey, which is normal.”
Just then, my eyes landed on two of the women by the coffee pot who were whispering. Their eyes were on Gianna.
And by the tilt of their chins, the shapes of their words, and their general body language, it was no wonder she was sitting there looking self-conscious.
“Or bitches are bein’ bitches,” I added.
Gigi straightened up and yep, I hit the nail on the head.
One of those bitches felt the displeasure of my dark gaze then and after making brief eye contact with me where I not only didn’t blink, but also where I made my disapproval known by my expression, she went red while looking away, muttering something to the judgmental-looking bitch beside her. That one looked at me and jolted still before pulling her lips tight. They knew they were busted.
