Pride (Page 36)

“Really? Wait. Which rich boy?” I ask.

“The fine one!” She tries to hold in a laugh.

I give her a look. Then she bursts out laughing, and the bartender looks over at us. He just smiles and shakes his head.

“Okay, it was Ainsley. And they were all nice to me. Too bad Janae is not going out with him anymore. How’s Warren, by the way?”

I shrug. “We’re done.”

“Wait. What?”

“It’s complicated” is all I can manage to say. I want to keep Darius’s secret. And Georgia’s.

“Well, I have some news.” She tries to hide her smile.

“What is it, Charlise?”

She grins wide, revealing all her teeth, as if what she’s about to tell me will shock me.

“Or, who is it?” I grab my phone to check if I missed a photo on Charlise’s instagram.

“Wait, Zuri,” she says. “He’s about to come in.”

I look out the opened glass door to the restaurant and count down. Ten, nine, eight . . . and in walks Colin, with that fake limp of his, and that cheesy grin as if he thinks he’s God’s gift to girls. As soon as he’s close enough to where I’m sitting, I say, “Hey, Colin. Madrina already sent me here for her el bisqué.”

“Oh, that’s cool. You should try some of that bisque too, Z. It’s dope.”

And right before my eyes, he reaches over the podium in front of Charlise and kisses her on the lips. I throw my hands up. “Oh, hell no!”

“See? I told you she’d get all in her feelings,” Colin says.

I take a deep breath and stare at the two lovebirds for a minute. I want to be a supportive friend. I don’t want to seem like a hater. “You know what, Colin? I’m happy for you two. Really.”

Charlise’s face lights up and she smiles bright. “Thank you, Zuri!” Then she turns to Colin. “See? I told you she’d be all right with this.”

Colin wraps his arm around Charlise’s neck, pulls her in, and plants a big fat kiss on her forehead, just as a well-dressed couple walks in. I step aside and watch Charlise shoo Colin away, then attend to the guests. It’s a long minute before I realize that the couple is none other than the Darcy boys’ parents, and I want to run out of there. But Charlise points to me, and they both turn. Darcy dad smiles. Darcy mom doesn’t. Then she smiles a fake smile.

I grab the paper bag with Madrina’s bisque and quickly leave that place, walking really fast down Knickerbocker Avenue and back to my building. As my heart races, I think that maybe I read the Darcys wrong. Maybe the Darcy mom has a bad case of resting bitch face. Maybe they were just in an argument and they went to that restaurant to patch things up. But then again, first impressions are everything. Madrina says to trust my gut. My gut told me that the Darcys were all conceited, and their sons thought that they were better than us. But I kissed one of them. And he apologized to me. Sort of.

As I’m walking back to my building, I get a text from Darius.

Hey, he types again.

I take a breath.

Hey, I respond.

Twenty-Two

Him: Zuri, I’m sorry about everything.

Me: . . .

Him: Sorry about Warren too. I know you liked him.

Me: Don’t apologize for Warren. He’s an asshole. You proved your point.

Him: I wasn’t trying to prove anything.

Me: . . .

Him: You and him still a thing?

Me: We’re nothing. You did see me curse him out, didn’t you?

Him: I couldn’t miss it. It was epic.

Me: . . .

Him: Can we have a do-over?

Me: . . .

Him: Please, Zuri Luz Benitez. ZZ.

Me: . . .

Him: ???

Me: I’ll give you another chance. But you best step up your game.

Him: ☺☺☺

Madrina left her apartment door unlocked for me.

“Madrina!” I call out as I’m staring at Darius’s texts. “I got your soup! And it’s bisque, not el bisqué. It’s a fancy word for soup.”

She doesn’t say anything and I look up from my phone and towards her bedroom. “Madrina?”

“I heard you, mi amor,” she says with an unusually raspy voice. “Just put it down, okay? Gracias, mija.”

She coughs a couple of times as I start to reply to Darius’s last text. But I don’t send anything. I walk out of Madrina’s apartment with my head in a shimmery pink fog. I read Darius’s texts over and over again as I climb the steps, almost tripping.

Twenty-Three

AGAIN, I’M LYING to my parents and my sisters about being with a boy. I can’t believe I’ve become that girl.

Charlise is covering for me. We’re supposed to be going to the movies. My sisters side-eye me because they know I don’t like movies. I explain that it’s Charlise’s last summer before college and they buy it. They think I’m going to meet boys at the theater, and I don’t argue with them. It’s better than letting them know that I’m meeting the boy across the street who I’m supposed to hate right now.

I feel bad about not telling Janae, though.

I told Darius to meet me at the L train stop and to leave home before me. There’s no way he can come pick me up at my door.

He texts me that he’s almost at Wyckoff Avenue. I’m two blocks behind him, and I speed up a bit. Even though I’ve agreed to hang out with him, I’m not really sure what I’m getting into. A ride home from D.C. was one thing, but Darius Darcy taking me out on a date is another.

I don’t see him when I get to the train station. He hasn’t texted his exact location. So I look around, and two minutes go by. I’m a little conscious of what I’m wearing—a loose-fitting sundress and sneakers. I tried to be cute, but not too cute, so he doesn’t think that I’m trying too hard. My stomach stirs a little bit, thinking that he might be playing me or has stood me up, or something. A small part of me still doesn’t trust him.

Suddenly I feel someone’s presence behind me, so I quickly elbow them in the belly. I turn around to see Darius doubled over, holding his stomach.

“You can’t be rolling up on nobody like that on the subway!” I say.

“Tell him, sis!” someone nearby calls out.

And I laugh.

“I was trying to surprise you,” Darius says in a strained voice.

“Nope. Not here. And not with me. This isn’t Park Slope,” I say.

And he laughs. His laugh softens me a little bit. And I return his hug. He wraps both his arms around my upper body while I wrap mine around his waist. His body is strong and I almost stay there for a second too long, but then I remember where I am.

I’m still in my hood, and somebody might see us and tell my parents.

On the train, the first thing I say is “This isn’t a date.” I said this to Warren too.

“I know,” he says, shrugging. “You can call it whatever you want. Bottom line is that we’re doing this, whatever this is.”

There’s not much I can say to that. So I just nod. “You’re saying all the right things. Did you practice or something?”

He laughs. “Or something. Let’s just say I have an idea of what pisses you off.”

“So you’re trying to avoid those things?”

“Basically.”

“That’s not very authentic.”

“Well, I’m just trying to be on my best behavior and be a gentleman.”