Cocky

Chapter 26 Surprise! #3

Mum appears at the doorway, apron tied tight around her waist. “Chinaza. I need you to check in the pantry for the paper plates and forks.”

Dad walks past with a drink in his hand. “We’re all out.”

Mum freezes. “What?”

Dad shrugs and keeps walking.

Mum mutters under her breath, grabs a pen from the side table, and starts scribbling onto a small shopping list. She tears it off and hands it straight to Frankie.

“This. Go get this quickly.”

Frankie takes the paper, scanning it. “This is a lot of things to get on the tube, Aunty.”

“I could drive you,” I say immediately.

Mum turns to me. “Jabari, it’s your party.”

“I don’t mind,” I reply. “I need the fresh air.”

Za steps forward, not trusting me at all after our talk. “I’ll come too.”

Mum doesn’t hesitate. “No. I need you here to serve the guests.”

Za’s shoulders drop. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” Mum says firmly. “Go check the drinks.”

Frankie glances at Za.

“We won’t take long,” she says softly. “I promise.”

They exchange one of those silent looks where entire conversations happen without words.

“Okay.” Za exhales. Then she looks at Frankie again. “We should talk when you get back.”

Frankie stiffens just slightly. “Oh… um. Okay.”

I move toward the door, grabbing my keys from the table. “We’ll be back.”

Mum waves us off, already shouting instructions at someone about portions.

Frankie steps outside first and I follow. The door closes behind us, muting the noise of the house.

For a second, neither of us speaks.

Then Frankie lets out a slow breath. “Did you tell her?”

“No.”

“Well she knows.”

“Not fully,” I say. “But she’s circling.”

“Christ. She asked me weird questions earlier too.”

“We can’t keep dancing around this.” I unlock the car and we get in. “She asked if I had feelings.”

Frankie stares straight ahead. “And what did you say?”

“I didn’t answer.”

She turns to me slowly. “You said nothing?!.”

“What was I supposed to say? Yes, I’m in love with your best friend and we’ve been sneaking around behind your back?”

“Don’t be a dickhead,” she mutters.

“I’m being honest.”

She folds her arms. I glance at her profile in the dim light from the dashboard.

“You nervous?” I ask.

“Yes,” she side-eyes me. “You’re not?”

“I’ll handle it,” I reply.

“You’ll handle it,” she repeats dryly. “We are so fucked.”

I pull into the shop car park and we sit there for a second before getting out.

“Francine,” I say, “Whatever happens, we’re still in this together. Okay?"

She hesitates then nods.

“Together,” she agrees.

But when she opens the door and steps out, I can still see the doubt in her shoulders.

“Why are you buying plantain like you’re feeding a whole damn planet?”

She doesn’t even look at me. She’s crouched slightly, inspecting each one.

“Why are you counting my plantain, blud? Is it your money?”

“It is my money,” I reply, one hand on the trolley.

“And?” She reaches for another one. “Move, let me pick my plantain in peace.”

“You’ve picked seven—”

“—EIGHT. And I’ll pick nine if you keep talking.” She drops another one into the trolley with attitude.

I stare at the pile. “Francine. We do not need this much.”

“We do,” she says firmly. “Because you—” she pokes my chest “—eat like you’ve never seen food before.”

“I’m an active professional athlete.”

“You’re greedy,” she corrects then moves on to the yams, still muttering under her breath.

I push the trolley behind her, watching her arse.

That’s when I notice a group of girls at the end of the aisle.

I feel it before I hear it.

“Oh my God… that’s him,” they whisper. Then one of them nudges the other forward.

Here we go.

“Excuse me,” she says, already smiling too wide. “Aren’t you Jabari McKingsley?”

Frankie freezes mid-reach.

I sigh internally but keep it polite. “Yeah.”

“Oh my God, we just watched your charity game. You were insane.”

“‘Preciate it.”

Her friend steps closer. “Can we get a picture? Actually wait—” she laughs— “are you single?”

Frankie slowly straightens up.

Oh, fuck. Are we telling other people we’re together before Za?

“No, I’m not actually—”

But the girl keeps going. “You look even better in person, you know.”

Frankie rolls her neck once and I can feel the temperature rising next to me. She’s over it.

“I’m just saying,” the girl continues, touching my arm lightly, “if you ever need someone to celebrate with—”

That’s when Frankie steps in. Her hand slides down the front of my joggers and grabs my dick. Firmly.

“Sorry,” Frankie says sweetly to the girls, her hand very much still there. “But he only eats my pussy.”

I choke on air.

The aisle goes dead silent. The girls’ eyes drop and scan Frankie.

Then snap back up.

“Oh,” one of them says quickly. “We didn’t know.”

“Clearly,” Frankie replies. “Even though I was standing here this entire time.”

Her grip tightens just enough to make my brain short-circuit.

“And he don’t need no extra celebration,” she adds calmly. “He’s well celebrated.”

I swallow.

The girls mumble something about “cute couple” and scatter.

Frankie doesn’t move her hand immediately.

“Francine,” I say low.

“What?” she replies coldly.

“May I have my penis back? It’s starting to go numb.”

She finally lets go and steps back like nothing happened. “You’re welcome.”

“For what?”

“Establishing boundaries, something you clearly can’t do.”

I lean closer. “I did! You could’ve said something too.”

“That’s your job, and you failed.”

“I wasn’t even entertaining it.”

“You didn’t shut it down either. What if a man approaches me like that?”

Fairs.

“Exactly.”

I grab the trolley again, trying to recover my dignity.

“Next time,” I mutter, “use words.”

“Next time,” she replies, picking up a bag of peppers, “answer faster.”

I sigh, “I’m sorry, Jelly.”

We turn into the next aisle.The normalcy of it feels strange after that.

I nudge the trolley into her hip. “You okay?”

She doesn’t answer straight away. She picks up a box, reads the back like she’s suddenly invested in fibre content.

“Frankie?”

“The way those girls looked me over when they saw me… they didn’t think I’m ‘good enough’ to be with someone like you.”

She air quotes it, but her voice isn’t joking.

I stop pushing. “Good enough?”

Her shoulders drop a little.

“Bari baby,” she says, eyes still on the shelf, “I ain’t exactly a model type, am I.”

I frown. “What’s that even mean?”

“You know what it means,” she says flatly. “Don’t insult my or your own intelligence.”

I step in front of her so she has to look at me. “Frankie baby. You’re fucking gorgeous.”

She squints at me. “I ain’t say I was ugly, nigga. Just fat.”

I open my mouth, close it, recalibrate. “Right. Sorry.”

She exhales. “It’s not your fault. It’s just… optics.”

“Optics?”

“You’re six foot something and built like you were designed in a lab. You’re famous. I build video games and have three friends. One of which is my mum.” She shrugs. “People expect you with someone who looks like… I don’t know— a gym influencer? model?”

I stare at her.

“You think that’s what I want?”

“I think that’s what the world thinks you should have,” She massages her temples. “Ugh! This is exactly why I don’t think we should go public yet. I don’t need your fans making comments about my weight or side eyeing me. I can hear the blogs now.”

I step closer so there’s barely space between us and the trolley. “The world doesn’t get a say in this.”

She searches my face like she’s trying to see if I’m just saying it.

“I’ve dated girls like that before,” I admit. “Model types. Influencer types.”

“And?”

“And I was bored.”

Her brow lifts.

“They didn’t challenge me, or argue back or grab my dick in the middle of Tesco and risk public indecency charges.”

Her lips twitch.

“They didn’t know me,” I continue. “You know me. Before the cameras. Before the ego. That’s not something you can replace with aesthetics.”

She looks down at her body for a second. Then back at me.

“You ever wish I was smaller?” she asks.

“No.”

“Not even a little?”

“No.”

“You’re not just saying that?”

I grab her chin gently so she looks at me properly. “If you were smaller, you wouldn’t be you. And I like you. You don’t shrink yourself for anyone. Why are you trying to shrink now?”

Her eyes soften at that.

“I don’t care if people think we don’t ‘match,’” I continue. “They don’t know what we are. They don’t know how we think. How we move. How we handle ourselves. If anything, I worry people will find out I’m not good enough for you.”

She actually laughs at that. “Shut up.”

“I’m serious,” I shrug. “You’re the one who bagged a professional athlete.”

She rolls her eyes but she’s smiling properly now.

“I hate that it even crosses my mind,” she admits. “I can’t believe I said it out loud! I can’t believe that I, Francine Campbell, was vulnerable in front of you. Is this what dating is? Exposing your insecurities for the other person to see?”

“Unfortunately, yes.” I say, pushing the trolley again. “Just lots and lots of showing your soft side.”

“Eeeeyuck!”

The music is still playing when we get back. Frankie’s still holding the bag with the plantain and I’ve got the rest. The front door swings open hard enough to hit the wall and Za storms out.

Her eyes are red—proper red. Her chest is tight like she’s trying not to sob in front of whoever’s watching from inside. She nearly crashes into Frankie.

“Zee—?” Frankie drops the bag instantly. “What’s wrong?”

Za shakes her head. “I’m leaving.”

“What happened?” Frankie asks softly.

Za laughs, but it’s ugly. “Ask your favourite aunty.”

From inside the house, Mum’s voice carries out but I can’t make out what she says.

Za flinches and Frankie’s jaw tightens. “What did she say?”

“She said,” Za swallows, “that at least her son has sense and didn’t waste his life.”

I suck my teeth. Girl, that ain’t even that bad!

“And that I had sense, I’d marry someone who had money so I could be someone worth mentioning.”

I feel the heat rise in my face. Oh… see that one’s a bit dodgy.

“Zaza, You sure she wasn’t trying to be funny?” I ask, because I know my mum. I know how she talks when she thinks she’s joking around. I know she doesn’t always hear how it sounds.

Za turns to me. “Of course you’d say that.”

“I’m just saying she was probably—”

“For once!” she snaps, voice cracking, “for once, Jabari. Can you just be on my side? We literally just talked about this!”

“I am on your side,” I say, frustrated. “And you know what, you have every right to be upset. But running off ain’t going to fix it. You gotta talk to her.”

“I agree Za,” Frankie adds. “How many times have I told you to stand up for yourself? You can’t run off.”

“I’m not running off!” she shouts. “I’m removing myself before I say something I can’t take back.”

Frankie’s eyes flick between us, pleading for me to fix it. This isn’t her load to bear. It’s between me and my sister. But those eyes God dipped in Kryptonite stared up at me.

“Look,” I say, trying to stay calm, “Mum shouldn’t have said it like that. I’ll talk to her later, okay?”

Frankie’s shoulders drop.

“When?” Za fires back. “After she’s finished praising you for breathing?”

“That’s not fair.”

“Neither is this!” she gestures toward the house, wiping her face angrily. “I can’t stay here.”

I step forward. “Zee, come on. Just come inside for five minutes. We can talk about it properly.”

“Properly?” she repeats. “In front of her friends?”

“Well,” I rub my neck. “I’ll tell her she crossed a line.”

Za looks at me, searching my face for something.

“Right now?” she asks.

I hesitate. I don’t even mean to.

But I hesitate.

Zaza sees it.

Frankie sees it too.

Za lets out a hollow laugh. “Exactly.”

She turns, already moving down the steps. Frankie calls after her, “Wait. I’m coming.”

Za’s already halfway down the path and I see Frankie’s eyes tracking her.

“Jelly—” I say before I can stop myself.

Frankie freezes, not fully turning but just enough that I can see her profile.

“Jabari, I just— I can’t right now, okay?”

“I didn’t even do anything,” I reply very controlled.

“I know,” she says. “That’s the problem.”

“Jelly,” I try again, softer this time. “Please…”

Her expression shifts and I see it. The pull. Za in one direction and me in the other.

“She needs me,” Frankie says.

“I know she does—”

“And right now she needs me more than you do.”

Fuck.

Za’s already at the gate, wiping her face, pretending she’s not crying anymore.

“Let’s go, Frankie!”

Frankie glances back at her, then at me.

“You should come too,” she tries.

“I can’t just leave my own party,” I reply. “People are inside.”

Her lips press together. “Yeah. Of course. Gotta give the people what they want.”

That tone. It’s subtle, but I hear it.

“What do you want from me, Francine? You expect me to run after her and start shouting at my mum?” I ask, trying to keep it level.

“I expect you to keep your word.”

“I am. I said I’ll fix it.”

“Later,” she says.

“What’s wrong with later?”

“She needed you now, Jabari!”

I feel irritation rise, not at her, but at the situation.

“Francine, I can’t undo what was said,” I reply. “And blowing up out here won’t help!”

Za calls her name again, and Frankie turns toward her instinctively. “Look. I gotta go.”

“We’re never gonna tell them about us, are we?”

I already know the answer.

“It’s not a good idea.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. I made that arrangement with a man who keeps his word. And you’re not him. Good night, Jabari.”