Page 135 of ClickBack

I don’t change a thing. Her thighs tense against me, and she comes with my name on her lips. I stay with her until her grip eases and she lets her head fall back.

She reaches for me while she is still catching her breath. I come up to kiss her, and she uses the moment to turn us. My back meets the mattress. She rises above me, reaches into the nightstand, and brings out a condom before I have thought about where I left mine.

I watch her roll it down me. She looks at my face while she does it, then lifts and guides me into her. We both stop when she settles all the way down. Her hands spread over my chest.

“Okay?” I ask.

She nods, then moves, slowly enough to make answering seem unnecessary. I hold her hips and let her find the pace. Each time she lowers herself, she keeps her eyes on me. I have missed her voice, her hands, the way she looks when she forgets to worry about how she looks. Tonight she knows exactly who is watching.

“Look at me,” she says when my eyes close.

I open them. She takes one of my hands and presses it against her chest, over the quick beat of her heart. I leave it there while she moves above me. The words I didn’t say downstairs come back. I keep them for a time when she can hear them without wondering what I need them to repair.

Her rhythm falters. She leans forward, holding my hand against her, and I meet her until she cries out. I come with her, pulling her close while she lowers herself against me.

Afterward, I get up to take care of the condom and come back to find her on her side, watching the bathroom door. I slide in beside her. She moves against me and puts her head on my chest.

“I’m not finished being upset about all of it,” she says.

“I didn’t think you were.”

“I don’t want you wondering in the morning whether tonight means I am.”

I turn enough to see her. “You can be upset with me and still want me here.”

“Yes.” Her hand settles over my heart again. “That.”

I kiss her forehead. She reaches across me to turn off the lamp, then returns to the same place, her leg resting over mine.

In the dark, she asks, “Do you have to leave early?”

“Workout at ten.”

“All right.”

She gets comfortable. I leave my phone where it is, inside my pants on the floor, and keep my arm around her.

Chapter 25

Jarrett

Outside the theater, Set It Off is on a poster for their monthly Black cinema series. One Saturday showing, different movie every month. Giselle says watching at home doesn’t count when everybody can pause it and go fold something.

She has the tickets on her phone and a bag of candy in her purse that she thinks I didn’t see her move out of the pharmacy bag in the car.

“You could’ve bought that inside,” I tell her.

“And I could have paid nine dollars for it. Both things are true.”

The woman scanning our tickets looks up at my voice. Recognition crosses her face, but she only points us toward the theater and tells us to enjoy the movie. I appreciate that enough to thank her twice.

We get three steps into the lobby before somebody calls Giselle’s name.

Marla comes toward us holding a drink against her chest so it won’t spill when she hugs Giselle.

On the drive over, Giselle told me Marla was a year ahead of her in school. Brenda came later, when their daughters were in elementary school. Marla got them coming to these screenings years ago. Giselle missed most of the last year.

Marla finishes the hug, looks at me, and says, “So this your guy?”