Chapter 14 Lily
Stepping out into the night air feels like waking up again.
I didn’t realize how quiet I’d been until we stepped outside. I didn’t say a single word the whole time we were in there. When I check the time and see we’ve been inside for three hours, I blink.
I look at Javonte.
He stands next to me with his hands in his pockets, looking out at the street while I try to process everything. The art. The night. The way it all settled into me.
I turn to him. “That was amazing. Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome,” he says with a smile, not asking for anything else. “You hungry?”
“Starving,” I tell him, laughing.
“I don’t know how you worked up an appetite, but it seems like you did.”
“It was a lot to take in. Beautiful.”
He looks at me and nods, and something about his expression makes me think he isn’t only talking about the art.
We walk to his car, and I take his hand again before I can talk myself out of it. He takes it without making a thing of it, but this time, he gives my fingers a gentle squeeze.
I smile to myself.
This feels easier than I expected. Better than I planned to let it feel.
In the car, I turn to him. “What piece was your favorite?”
He glances at me and laughs. “I wasn’t looking at the art.”
Heat rises into my cheeks, and I look toward the window because there is no reason for him to be looking that good while saying things like that.
“What was your favorite?” he asks.
I let out a breath. “You can’t have a favorite in an exhibit like that. It was all perfect.”
“Why?”
I look over at him, and he’s actually waiting for the answer. Not just being polite. Not trying to move the conversation along. Waiting.
“Because every piece said something new. They all spoke to me in their own way, and I needed all of it.” I shake my head a little. “I can’t explain it better than that. I just needed it.”
He nods slowly. “That’s why you were so quiet in there.”
“Yeah.”
“You were taking it in.”
My chest warms.
He gets it.
There’s a quiet stretch after that, but it doesn’t feel awkward. I watch the city move past the window, still thinking about the paintings, still feeling his hand close to mine on the console.
About ten minutes later, he pulls into the parking lot at Mama’s Kitchen.
I sit up a little. “This is where we’re eating?”
He turns off the car. “You ever been?”
“No, but I heard it’s the best in town.”
“That’s what I heard too.”
Part of me expected somewhere expensive. Somewhere impressive in the obvious way. Instead, he brought me somewhere that feels like a real answer to who I am and what I like.
I look at the sign, then back at him.
“Good choice,” I say.
His smile grows. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Javonte Kind?” the host says, eyes wide.
“In the flesh.”
“Wow, thank you for coming in. We’re not busy tonight, so sit wherever you want. I’m gonna tell Mama you’re here.”
Javonte opens his mouth to respond, but the host is already rushing toward the kitchen.
“The life of the rich and famous,” I say, bumping his shoulder.
He slips an arm around me. “It’s not so bad.”
We pick a booth tucked in the corner, just in case it does get busy. He slides in beside me instead of across, our arms brushing on the table.
“What are you in the mood for?” he asks.
I scan the menu. “Everything.”
He raises an eyebrow. “That can be arranged.”
“No. That’s wasteful. I’ll figure it out.”
“If you say so. I’ll take whatever you don’t finish home.”
I keep looking until I spot a sampler plate with all the classics.
“Ah, look.” I tap the menu, and he leans in close to see.
I catch a hint of his cologne, and it pulls me for a second. I look away, steadying myself.
“Look at that,” he says. “Exactly what you wanted without the guilt.”
I nod. “Gold stars all around.”
He keeps looking at me, quiet and serious in a way that makes my stomach tighten. “What?” I ask.
“I miss you.”
I meet his eyes, and there’s nothing casual in them. That makes it harder, because I miss him too. I’m just not ready to give him that part of me yet.
“Y’all doing okay over here?” the waitress asks.
I look down at the table and realize neither of us has touched our drinks. “We’re good,” I say, probably too fast. She lingers for a second, her eyes moving to Javonte like she’s trying to place him, and I lean closer to him.
“You’ve got a fan,” I say. “Go ahead and sign something so she leaves us alone.”
He laughs, loud and easy, and I’m grateful for it because it gives us somewhere easier to go.
After the waitress leaves, I turn back to him. “Does this happen a lot?”
“Depends on where I am,” he says. “The nicer the place, the less attention. Somewhere like this...” He shrugs. “Comes with the territory.”
We didn’t go out like this when we were together. Being out with him feels fresh and new.
“How have you been?” I ask, knowing it’s a loaded question, but I’m curious.
He looks at me. “Good enough. Last season didn’t end how we wanted. Didn’t make it to the finals. The guys blame me. They say I played better when I was with you.”
I tilt my head. “Oh, so that’s what this is about?”
He straightens. “No, I miss you—”
“I’m playing,” I cut in, smiling.
He exhales, then laughs. “Wow, I was really about to pour my heart out.”
“I cannot believe Javonte Kind is in my restaurant!” A woman who has to be Mama approaches us with a bright smile and a tray full of food.
I turn to Javonte, and we both break out into laughter.
“I’m happy to be here. Can’t wait to taste the best soul food in the city.”
She sets the tray on the table beside ours, then starts placing our food in front of us. It looks delicious, and I can’t wait to taste it all.
“I threw in some banana pudding and lemon pound cake for you. You can’t leave here without dessert.”
I smile up at her. “Thank you so much! It looks so good.”
“You two beautiful people enjoy!”
She takes the tray and walks back to the kitchen, leaving us to our table full of food.
“This is still a lot of food.” Javonte unwraps his silverware and surveys the table.
“It really is, but it looks so good, I might be able to eat everything.”
Javonte levels me with a look. “I’d like to see you try.”
“Is that a challenge?”
He waves his hand. “No, because I don’t need you feeling sick and bloated when we leave. Tonight needs to end pleasantly, not with indigestion.”
I taste the macaroni and cheese first. “Damn.”
“It’s that good?”
I nod and put more on my fork. “Taste it.”
He leans in and eats off my fork. “Damn!”
“I know right?”
He picks up his fork and tries to taste some more. I swipe at his fork with me. “Did you order macaroni and cheese?”
“Really?” He puts his fork down.
“Yes, really. This is too good to share.” I eat another bite and close my eyes.
“That’s harsh.” He shakes his head.
“It’s reality, my friend. You can’t have any more than just a taste.”
He looks at me. “A taste is never enough.”
We hold eye contact. He licks his lips, and I force myself to look away. I’m not going back. At least, not tonight.
The dessert is just as good as the mac and cheese. Everything was delicious, and this place is officially on my list whenever I need a soul food fix.
We linger for a minute after we finish, neither of us in a rush to move, and the night stretches just a little longer than it probably should. Then somehow, without me really noticing how we got there, we’re back at my house.
The drive was easy. Conversation came and went, nothing too deep, but it felt a little too close to normal for me. Closer than I’m comfortable with.
He comes around and opens my door, and I wait without thinking now. It’s been a while, but it’s easy to fall back into a man opening doors for you. He takes my hand and walks me up to my porch, and somewhere between the car and my front door, anxiety starts creeping in.
This night is ending.
Well... I don’t know how this night is ending. I just know what it could turn into.
I’ve had those moments with him before, and they were good. Really good. But I said I’m not going back there again. At least not right now.
We stop on my porch, face to face. He still has my hand, hasn’t let go, and then he takes my other hand too. My breath catches before I can stop it.
He leans down and presses a kiss to my cheek.
It surprises me so much I almost laugh.
“I had a good time,” he says. “Thank you.”
I look up at him, a little thrown off, because I should be thanking him. He planned the perfect night for me, and he’s thanking me.
“I had the best time,” I tell him. “Really. Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome,” he says, smiling softly. “I hope we can do it again soon.”
He lets go of my hands and steps back, giving me space to unlock my door, and I just stand there for a second, staring at him.
Because why isn’t he on me? Why isn’t he trying harder?
I might let him.
I unlock the door, and he tells me goodnight, watching as I step inside and close it. A second later, I hear his footsteps going down the porch steps, then his car door.
Then nothing.
I set my keys in the bowl, walk over to the couch, and drop down, staring straight ahead.
I don’t know what just happened.
That’s not the Javonte I know. It’s not the one I expected.
I let out a slow breath and let the night replay in my mind. The exhibit makes my heart flutter, the way he didn’t rush me or try to pull my attention, just let me have that moment for myself. It wasn’t about him at all.
Then dinner. The way he held my hand.
My chest tightens.
This is exactly why I didn’t want to go out with him.
No... it’s not.
I’m realizing there’s a new version of him. A better one.