Page 26 of Juliet's Echo

"Ooh, write that down. I'm adding that to the list of specialty offerings for my clients."

Mega sucked his teeth. "You know you're playing tug of war. Classy side versus tacky side. And tacky has the strongest pull."

"Great — I'll finally get the chance to meet your mama," she shot back.

"Oh, you want to talk about mamas?" he started.

"Aye — Dee Dee and Dexter, don't start," I signed, barely able to keep a straight face.

"It's him, he always— ooh, lobster rolls!" Yahya announced, her entire energy pivoting on the spot.

One minute my girl was on a full rampage. The next, something else had her complete and undivided attention.

"Come on, you short evil genius," she said, grabbing Mega by the arm and dragging him toward the food truck.

See. Love.

We stopped at The Daily Tails food truck and the line was ridiculously long. Don't get me wrong — Manny could throw down on a chopped lobster tail, homemade garlic butter sauce, piled high on a fresh bread roll. But cheesesteaks sounded just as good and that line was considerably shorter. Besides, Mannyparked on campus at least three times a month — we could grab a roll then. I was about to say exactly that.

But turning toward my friends I caught Mega reading the menu to Yahya. Not because she couldn't read — but when she got overly excited, letters had a way of jumping around on her. She made a face at something he suggested and he laughed. A few people moving through the crowd without paying attention came charging in their direction and Mega pulled Yahya into him without a second thought, hitting the group with a death stare. I could make out one of them saying "My fault, Mega." He gave the guy a slight chin lift —it's cool, but watch yourself.

I know that's right, friend.

Not wanting to interrupt the love session by squeezing in beside them, I turned toward the menu posted on the truck and stood on my toes to get a better look. I genuinely did not know who I inherited my height from. My daddy is a giant. My mama is a sexy stallion in her own right. And here I am, barely touching 5'4.

Struggling, I stretched as high as I could as more heads crowded the menu in front of me.

"If you have to do all that just to read a menu, maybe you should stick to Happy Meals, small fry," a deep and annoyingly familiar voice said behind me.

Above my aggravation, a pleasurable mixture of tobacco and vanilla hit my nose and offered an unwelcome amount of comfort. I took a breath and turned around sharply.

Michael Jordan graphic tee fitted just right, denim knee-length shorts adorned with the smallest rhinestones, and deliberately worn down Vans, completing the rockstar aesthetic. I had to glance up — way up — at the 6'1 cinnamon brown masterpiece now standing in front of me. The sun caught the gold detail in his dark shades like he was generating his own light source. This man was too handsome for the level ofpatience I had for his ass. I hated how effortlessly unbothered he always looked. Like nothing in this world could rattle him. Even his silence carried an obnoxious amount of confidence. He glanced at the menu, then back down at me — having to bend considerably further than he probably expected just to get level with my face.

"Or are you one of those people who turns a three item menu into a whole ordeal?"

Cool air and the faint scent of mint carried from his mouth to mine and I couldn't help but notice the open gold grill he was wearing. Bottoms only. There was something about a man in bottom grills only that was just plain unfair.

Get your shit together, girl.

"And here I thought my thong would be the only pain in my ass today," I said, folding my arms.

"Ha." He chuckled. "Very funny, bratty ass. Next time sign while you're talking to me — let me know you mean that shit."

Before I could respond, Psalm's crew rolled up beside him. Christian was the only one I knew — he volunteered at the community center where I taught ASL lessons. Giving me a once-over he asked, "Ayo P, I thought you said this line was too long to mess with. What changed your mind?"

"Yeah, and why'd you just walk off without saying anything?" another added.

"What does it matter?" Psalm replied, a little too quickly.

"Maybe not what — but who," Christian replied with a smirk.

The unwanted interaction ate up more time than expected and before I knew it Manny was calling out to me.

"Aye, Ju-Ju — you want your usual?" Manny asked with a wide smile.

"Yes," I signed.

"Mr. Mitchel — already had yours going the second I spotted you in line," Manny said, handing him a fully stuffed brown paper bag.