Page 172 of What We Brave
I need you to not judge me?—
Oh god, starting with that is basically a guarantee she'll judge me.
I give up on rehearsing and go inside.
The bell above the door jangles as I shove through it.
Jamila's already in our usual booth, menu open, coffee steaming in front of her. Purple box braids perfect, outfit coordinated, looking like a woman who has her life together because she actually does. She looks up when I approach, and her smile freezes when she sees my face.
I slide into the seat across from her. Drop my forehead to the table.
The cool laminate feels good against my skin. Grounding. Real. Slightly sticky, but I'm choosing not to think about that.
"Okay." Jamila's voice is careful. "That's a look."
I don't lift my head. "I need pancakes. And possibly a lobotomy."
"Pancakes I can do. The other thing might take longer." She flags down the server. Orders for both of us without consulting me becauseshe already knows what I get. That's friendship. That's the kind of knowing I can handle right now.
When the server leaves, she leans forward. "Spill."
I finally raise my head. She's watching me with that patient, steady expression — the one that saysI have all day and you're not leaving this booth until you talk.
Where do I even start?
"I had sex with Blake."
Her eyebrows shoot up. "When?"
"Yesterday. Multiple times." I grab her coffee and take a sip. She doesn't stop me. "And then Reid came home and he wasn't upset — like, genuinely not upset, which is its own thing I need to process — and then they both?—"
I make a vague gesture that conveys absolutely nothing.
"On the couch. Together. With me. Not with each other, but both of them at the same time, and I?—"
"Breathe."
I breathe.
"You're starting in the middle," Jamila says. "Back up. Friday night."
"Friday night was Reid. Which was—" I wave my hand. "Amazing. Obviously. It's Reid. But then Saturday morning he left, and Blake and I were alone, and?—"
"Wait. Reid just left?"
"He manufactured an excuse. Tony needed help or something. The man basically gift-wrapped alone time with Blake and shoved us together."
She snickers. "Sneaky."
"That's what I said." I steal another sip of her coffee. "So Blake and I are alone and it just... happened. Like, one minute I'm eating toast and the next—" I stop. My face is doing something I can't control. "Jamila, heshook. When he — he was literally shaking. Like his body couldn't hold what he was feeling."
She's quiet. Listening.
"And he broke the dresser."
"He what?"
"Broke the drawer pull. Off the dresser. Because he was gripping ittoo hard." I press my fingers against my eyes. "And he kept saying my name like it was the only word he knew and I just — I can't — it was?—"
