Cocky

Chapter 22

twenty-two

give ‘em grace.

Frankie.

I don’t know why I came.

That’s the first thought in my head as the car slows over gravel that definitely costs more than my rent.

This building is new.

Clean glass everywhere. No graffiti. No broken lights. No flyers taped to the door.

Since when does Jabari live somewhere like this?

Last time I checked, he was half at his mum’s, half hotel crashing. This place feels well thought out and it doesn’t match the version of him I’ve been yelling at in my head all afternoon.

The car comes to a full stop and I don’t get out.

I stare up at the building again, my chest tightening in a way I don’t like. Because if this is where he is now—if this is the version of him he’s stepping into—then it means the ground’s shifting under my feet into something I had no knowledge of and I fucking hate surprises.

“Since when do you live in a posh place like this?” I ask, finally unbuckling but not moving yet.

“Since I make too much money to live in a fucking hotel,” Jabari deadpans, like it should’ve been obvious.

I huff and glance back up at the building. “Hm. It is nice, though.”

He nods once. “Yeah. I wanted you and Za to help me pick, but—”

My phone buzzes again in my hand. I don’t even look at the screen this time. Just turn it face down on my thigh.

“Yeah,” I cut in. “Well. We ain’t exactly all buddy-buddy right now either.”

Jabari doesn’t say anything right away but studies me instead… carefully.

“You gonna tell me what happened?” he asks.

“No,” I say quickly. Too quickly. “Not right now.”

“Alright,” he says, holding my gaze.

I shrug it off. “I’m tired.”

“Then let’s go inside.”

The car door opens on his side and he steps out, then pauses.

No rushing me. Just… there. That annoys me more than if he’d said something slick. I step out too, the evening air cool against my face. The building feels even taller from down here.

“So,” I say, folding my arms. “What, you bring me here to show off your big-boy flat?”

He snorts. “Nah.”

“Then what?”

He turns to face me fully now. “I brought you here ’cause I didn’t wanna end today the way we almost did.”

“How did you want it to end?”

“Ideal?” he thinks it over. “You face down in my new bed, clawing at the new sheets.”

I scoff. “Funny way of going about that.”

“I know,” he admits. “But you weren’t exactly answering texts.”

“Because I didn’t wanna talk,” I snap. Then sigh. “I still don’t.”

“Then don’t,” he says. “Just hang around a bit.”

I look at him. Really look this time.

He got a haircut.

“And then what?” I ask.

“Then you leave,” he says easily. “Or you don’t. Up to you.”

I hate how reasonable that sounds. I hate even more that part of me wants to see what’s behind those glass doors.

“If it’s so damn simple, why’d you kidnap me!” I glance down at my phone once more. Another missed call.

I swallow.

“…Five minutes,” I say.

His mouth tilts.

“Cool,” he says. “I’ll take five.”

We walk toward the entrance side by side, not touching. Inside, it’s quiet. Soft lighting, polished floors, art on the walls that looks expensive and meaningless.

The doorman nods at Jabari like he knows him, “Titan.”

I roll my eyes and gag. “Can you at least put that stupid face of yours away? You’re attracting everything and everyone.”

He huffs a laugh and presses the lift button. “My fame really does bother you, doesn’t it?”

“Duh, didn’t you see how they were gawking at us on the tube? I felt like I was in a fish bowl.”

“Hmm,” he hums and looks at the numbers getting lower on the lift screen. “Believe me Jelly. I’m fed up with it too.”

While we wait, my phone buzzes again in my hand. I don’t look.

“You gonna keep doing that?” he asks.

“Doing what?”

“Pretending it’s not ringing.”

“I’m allowed to ignore people.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Just be careful you’re not doing anything else you’ll regret.”

I shoot him a look. “Don’t get insightful all of a sudden. Or I’ll ignore your arse next.”

He lifts his hands. “Alright. I’ll shut up.”

Now it’s my time to watch the numbers. “I’ll talk to Za… when I find the right words.”

“Okay.”

When the lift opens, we step inside and he presses the button for the top floor.

UGH! I hate that this turns me on! I’m supposed to still be mad at him.

The doors slide shut, and suddenly it’s just us and the hum of the lift.

I clear my throat. “So. You happy here?”

“Still unpacking,” he says. “But yeah. It’s alright.”

“Alright?” I repeat. “That’s all you got?”

He shrugs. “I don’t need much. A bed. A shower. A gym. Privacy. Space.”

I glance at him. “You take up space everywhere you go just fine so I’m sure it’s not an issue.”

“That’s only ’cause I don’t stop growing,” he says. Then, quieter he leans in, “You should know.”

The lift slows then dings. He steps out first, and waits while I follow. The hallway’s carpeted, thick, muffling our footsteps. He unlocks the door, pushes it open, and gestures for me to go in.

The flat’s big, but not empty. Clean lines. Neutral colours.

Big windows looking out over the city. Boxes stacked neatly along one wall, half-unpacked. A pair of trainers by the door. A jacket slung over a chair.

It feels lived in, even unfinished.

“This is… very you,” I say before I can stop myself.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know,” I admit. “Simple. No clutter. Everything where it should be.”

He watches me walk farther in. “You don’t like it?”

“I didn’t say that.” I cross my arms. “Why’d you bring me here, really?”

He doesn’t dodge it this time. “Because I needed you to see that I’m not moving mad for fun. I don’t invest in things I don’t believe in. And I don’t show people my space unless I trust them.”

My chest tightens. Annoyingly.

“You’ve got a funny way of showing trust,” I say.

“And you’ve got a funny way of pushing people out,” he shoots back. “Just like you’re doing to Za.”

I open my mouth, then close it. Of course she talked to him about what was going on with us. He is her only other friend. Shit. He may be my only other friend too now that I think about it.

Finally, I sigh. “I’m still mad.”

“I know.”

“And I still don’t like how today went.”

“Fairs.”

“And I’m not promising anything.”

He nods. “I didn’t ask you to.”

“… and I said five minutes,” I remind him.

He checks an imaginary watch. “I’ve used about two.”

I shake my head, but a small smile sneaks out anyway. Then, I let the silence stretch a second too long, just to see if he’ll fill it. He does—by stepping closer.

Close enough that I can feel the heat off him, smell that clean soap-and-something-else that shouldn’t work for me but does. His hand comes to my waist like it’s muscle memory.

“Frankie,” he says quietly.

“Don’t,” I warn, but my voice lacks conviction.

He dips his head anyway, mouth brushing my jaw, then my neck. Slow and unrushed, like he’s got all the time in the world and he knows it.

I inhale sharply. “You’re fishing for disappointment, buddy. I’m on my period.”

He hums against my skin. “Hmm. Period, huh?”

Before I can react, his hands slide under my thighs and he lifts me clean off the floor.

“Jabari—”

“I didn’t know you still get those,” he says, dead serious.

“Don’t get cheeky.”

He grins and carries me down the hall like I don’t weigh a thing and we didn’t just spend the entire day at each other’s throats. The bedroom’s spacious, minimal, clearly unfinished. No art on the walls yet. Mattress low to the ground. A few boxes stacked neatly in the corner.

He sets me down gently, like he’s placing something breakable.

“I’m not trying to sleep with you, Francine,” he says, stepping back. “We gotta shower after taking that disgusting train. I can never forgive you for that, by the way.”

“No one made you get on the tube, big man.” I straighten my top.

“Yes, you did,” he shoots back. “Thinking you can end things with me and I don’t get a say?”

“Again,” I say, holding his gaze, “nobody told you to follow me.”

He scoffs, shakes his head like he wants to argue—but I beat him to it.

“But,” I add, softer, “I’m glad you did.”

That stops him and he looks at me for a long moment, jaw tight, eyes searching.

Then he exhales.

“Should we go?” He gestures toward the bathroom down the hall.

I wrinkle my nose. “Doing my feminine hygiene routine in front of you? We’re not there yet, big man. I’m sure this place has a guest room.”

“Down the hall to the right,” he says immediately. “Do you need anything?”

“Depends, you pack all my shit up from the hotel?”

“Yes, in my bathroom.”

“Oh well you take the guest room then.”

“Alright,” he says, then hesitates. “Well, just in case.”

He reaches into his dresser, grabs a fresh tee, and hands it to me.

I take it. “Thanks.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Anytime.”

When I’m done in the shower, I dry off, clean up, pull on fresh underwear and the oversized tee he gave me. I catch my reflection again. Still tired but clean.

I can work with this.

I track back to his room quietly. He’s already in bed wearing loose shorts and nothing else. He looks up when I hover in the doorway.

“You good?” he asks, voice low.

“Yeah,” I say. And this time, I mean it.

He shifts over without being asked, pulling the duvet back. I climb in beside him, keeping a little space between us out of habit. The mattress is firm, clean sheets cool against my skin. He doesn’t touch me but turns slightly on his side, facing me.

“You need anything?” he asks.

“No.”

“You sure?”

I nod. “I’m okay.”

He studies my face for a second, then relaxes. “Alright.”

The room goes quiet and my body sinks into the bed, exhaustion hits all at once now that I’ve stopped moving. My eyelids grow heavy.

“Frankie,” he murmurs.

“Mm?”

“Can I tell you something?”

“No.”

“Sometimes,”—Oh my days—“I still think about that night,” Jabari says into the dark.

I don’t open my eyes.“What night, big man?”

“The night after the club.”

I sigh. “Jabari—”

“Let me finish,” he commands. “That person you were that night. The way you let me in. I think I’ve been looking for her this whole time.”