Page 45 of Roman Blake
I glanced at both of them, then back at Melissa. “Y’all good?”
“We were,” she said. “Till you walked in here on bullshit.”
I smiled a little, but it didn’t reach my eyes. “Cool. I’ll be over there, then.” I jerked my chin toward an open wall area with a clear view of the bar. “Y’all can keep doin’ what y’all do. I just needed to see with my own eyes.”
“See what?” she demanded.
“That you alive,” I said. “That you upright. That whoever in your face know where not to play.”
She laughed, frustrated. “You sound crazy.”
“I know,” I said. “Get used to it.”
I stepped back, givin’ her space like she swear she wanted, and posted up on the wall across from the bar, where I could see everything.
Drink in my hand, one shoulder on the wall, eyes on her.
I wasn’t over there breathin’ down her neck.
I wasn’t snatchin’ her up off the floor.
I was just there.
And she felt it.
Every couple minutes she’d look around like she was makin’ sure I really stayed where I said I’d be.
Every time she danced, every time a nigga walked past too slow, her gaze would slide my way.
I ain’t do much.
Sometimes I just looked back, let my eyes say what my mouth didn’t.
You not out here by yourself, so act like it.
By the end of the night, she wasn’t laughin’ as loose.
She wasn’t checkin’ her phone every two seconds either.
She just… let it be what it was.
Her with her girls.
Me watchin’ from the cut.
Not in a corner ‘cause I couldn’t take it.
‘Cause I wouldn’t.
When the lights came up and the DJ started talkin’ about last call, people poured out slow. The air outside was cooler, less loud.
Melissa, Charlee, and April came out together, talkin’ low. Soon as they hit the sidewalk, I slid off the wall inside and followed.
“Where y’all parked?” I asked once I stepped out behind ‘em.
Melissa groaned. “Here we go.”
Charlee pointed toward one side of the lot. “We over there. Melissa drove by herself.”
