Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
niomi
“So were your producers happy with the interview today?”
I hear Janelle’s question, but my attention is divided between her and the main entrance.
The gym is packed with students, alumni, faculty, staff, people from the community.
Every two seconds someone comes up to say hi, tell me they love the show, ask what I’ve been up to.
It’s great seeing everyone again, but the one person I want to see most has not made an appearance.
Janelle snaps her fingers in front of my face. “The interview, Ni.”
“Oh, yeah. They loved it.”
“I bet they aren’t used to sexual tension on the morning show.”
My attention jerks to her smug expression. “What sexual tension?”
“Chile, that interview was straight foreplay. I was ‘bout to throw a bucket of cold water on you and Touré. You were probably sweating through that cardigan.”
“I was not . . .we were not.” I blow out a breath. “Shut up, Nelle.”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me he kissed you? Biiiiiitch, that is the hot tea you s’posed to spill.”
“He didn’t say it was me.” I try to keep my face neutral, but I can feel my lips quirking.
“I remember that party. It was at Kyle’s apartment, and you disappeared for like an hour.”
“Everyone disappears at parties.”
“Yeah, but now I remember that he did, too. I was looking for you and Kyle was going around asking everybody if they had seen Touré.”
Damn her vivid memory.
Touré and I made a beer run to the liquor store around the corner.
Both slightly buzzed, we stopped walking on the way back and sat on a bench.
Neither of us were eager to return to Kyle’s tiny apartment packed with our friends.
Someone had vomited in the living room, and despite our valiant efforts to clean, a pungent scent had permeated the air.
I was tired of the stench and the loud music by the time Touré asked if I wanted to roll out to grab more drinks.
“Heifer, was it you?” Janelle demands again.
“Damn, Nelle,” I laugh. “What difference does it make? That was twenty years ago.”
“Well obviously he was thinking about it enough to bring it up in the interview tuh-day.”
“Aren’t you in charge of something? Does a student need their affairs handled? Got a whole homecoming weekend to manage? Surely there’s something more worthy of your attention than a kiss between Touré and me way back when.”
“So it was you!” She points a triumphant finger at me. “I knew it.”
“Water under the bridge.”
“Oh, I got your bridge, honey.” She glances around. “All this is making me a little horny. Where’s that sweet cousin of yours who was talking big about wanting this fine wine?”
“Oh, my god. You are too much. Believe it or not, Ron saw some of his friends from State who are here for the step show, and he’s sitting over there. He’ll probably hang with them all night.”
“Invasion of the PWI’s. Creeping over here to see how the HBCU do.”
We lean against each other, sharing a laugh.
“Speaking of creeping.” Janelle nods to the door. As soon as I stopped watching, the very man I’ve been looking for all night walked in. “Our old friend just arrived and has Kyle with him. He told me he was coming.”
I barely notice Kyle beside Touré, though he’s just as tall, and in his own way, just as attractive.
Even with the huge room separating us, the connection between Touré and me is instant; a thread pulled tautly between us.
A throb that settles low in my belly with a kaleidoscope of butterflies.
He’s not smiling, but his stare on me is intense, and though he’s stopped every few seconds, he’s headed straight for me. Us. For . . .us.
“That Kyle is still fine, too,” Janelle says. “He’s been back for a few panels and programs here at the school, so we’ve talked through the years. He and Touré have always been close.”
“Yeah, he mentioned Kyle is Celine’s godfather.”
Celine sits at the center of a group of her sorority sisters on bleachers across the room.
In preparing for the interview with Touré I saw photos of her mother, and she’s a great blend of them both.
Though it’s her eyes—dark, longlashed and keenly intelligent—where I see the greatest resemblance to her father.
He stops there briefly, hugs Celine and greets her friends before moving on.
I sensed the tension between them before the interview.
There is always a price for success at the level Touré and I have obtained.
You hope the price isn’t steeper than you can afford.
For me, it became my marriage. My ex wanted me to be something I couldn’t.
Wanted things I couldn’t give him. It took us a few years to give up on it, but now we’re great friends.
I know many close relationships fell to the wayside as Touré climbed.
I hope the damage with his daughter is not irreparable.
Maybe they’ll find some time this weekend, though she’ll be busy with her obligations as homecoming queen.
Nelle has to go handle a thousand details I’m sure need her attention.
I huddle on the front row with the camera guy here capturing some footage of the step show for the segment we’ll air next week.
After a few minutes, he also leaves, going to set up shots of the step teams. So I’m alone by the time the two men who used to be some of my closest friends finally reach me.
“Niomi!” Kyle hugs me so hard and tight my feet leave the floor.
I squeal and lightly pound on his back. “Boy, if you don’t put me down!”
I’m laughing when he sets me on the floor and a few inches away to study my face.
“Still pretty as ever,” Kyle says, his gaze respectfully appreciative and assessing. “I missed my chance with you.”
I roll my eyes because Kyle dated the same girl, an education major, all through college and eventually married her.
“Don’t even try it,” I scoff. “You only had eyes for Bev and I know for a fact the two of you are deep into your happily ever after.”
“True, but make no mistake,” Kyle says, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “We all set sights on you at freshman orientation, but I knew my boy was feeling you, even though he didn’t shoot his shot.”
I flick a nervous glance up to Touré, who stands silent, a slight smile on his face as he studies me closely, but makes no move to engage.
“Where is Beverly?” I ask Kyle, ignoring his provocative comment and Touré for the moment.
“She was coming, but one of our boys is sick. She didn’t want me to miss the centennial, though, especially not with this one finally showing up for a homecoming.”
He elbows Touré, who only grunts at his friend’s lighthearted chiding.
Janelle returns, her expression lighting up at the sight of Kyle.
“I was hoping we’d get to see you,” she says, reaching up to give him a hug. “Bev not with you?”
“Sick kid.” He shrugs. “You know how it goes.”
“Sorry to hear that.” Janelle says. “She is definitely your better half.”
“No arguments from me,” Kyle chuckles.
“Well what’re y’all doing after the step show?” She slides a look from Kyle to Touré.
“Whatever you want to get into,” Kyles says. “Celine already told us both to stay out of her way.”
Touré sighs, shrugging the broad shoulders filling out the navy blue sweater subtly hugging his torso. “It’s true. My daughter has responsibilities to her royal subjects. I’m at a loose end.”
“Well let’s tie it,” Janelle cackles. “After the step show, drinks at Top Dog for old time’s sake.”
Top Dog was our haven and our watering hole here at Finley. With it being easy walking distance of campus, we never needed a designated driver. All we had to do was get each other across the streets and to our doors.
“Shit,” Touré huffs out on a breath. “That place ain’t condemned yet? It was on its last leg even back then.”
“Going strong.” Janelle grimaces and glances down at her phone. “Damn, y’all. I’m getting pinged again. I got adulting to do. I have a few things to take care of for tomorrow, but I’ll meet you guys at Top Dog.”
“Alright,” I tell her. “We’ll see you there.”
She starts off toward the main entrance, leaving me alone with Kyle and Touré.
“I actually see one of Beverly’s girls from back in the day,” Kyles says, pointing up toward a cluster of alums sporting Finley gear. “She wanted me to make sure I said hi. I’ll be back.”
Kyle leaves without further explanation or excuse.
“That was subtle.” Touré shoots me a sideways glance. “I promise I didn’t arrange that with him, but I’m not sorry that we get a few minutes alone.”
I gulp and sit down abruptly on the bleacher.
I’m forty-one. Grown ass. I should not be this nervous.
This fluttery. This twitchy just because a man I’m attracted to is signaling it’s mutual, but this is Touré.
That guy. The one who was always a question.
The possibility of an answer has me on edge.
Touré sits beside me on the bleacher, his clean scent with woodsy notes invading my senses.
It’s a full house, and we are canned like sardines in here.
It forces him close and the muscular length of his leg presses against mine. The strength of his arm touches mine.
“Hey.” Touré rests one hand on my knee and waits for me to look at him. The heat I’ve felt all day with him is still there, but so is genuine concern. “I hope I didn’t make you feel weird today during the interview talking about the kiss.”
“You didn’t. I mean, it’s okay. I was surprised, but not . . .unpleased.”
“Not unpleased, huh?”
“Was it true?” I push out my hesitation on a slow breath and force myself to go on. “What you said about having a crush on me all that time because—”
“It was true.”