Tainted

25. Zara

25

Zara

W e pulled up to Digg’s garage, and I could hear the low rumble of engines and the pulse of music vibrating through the air. The whole place was lit, with neon lights bouncing off the metal walls.

I slid out of the passenger seat while Jewel walked ahead, owning the scene like always. Brandy kept close to my side, her eyes scanning the crowd.

“Digg went all out this time,” Jewel muttered, glancing back at us as we stepped further into the chaos.

“I wonder why. His parties aren’t ever this packed,” Brandy added, making me somewhat nervous.

“And he brought out the good shit!” Jewel boasted, holding up the liquor bottle. “Grab a cup. Both of you bitches need shots.”

Jewel poured one for each of us, toasting to friendship and a memorable night out. The DJ had the garage rocking while different clubs showed off their tricked-out cars. I’d even stopped watching my phone, waiting for it to ring. Then Kenyon stepped out of his car, ignoring Nolan’s words while Shaudi took in the scene.

“Don’t sweat that nigga,” Jewel leaned over offering advice.

“I’m cool,” I lied, watching Kenyon scan the crowd. Then he spotted me, and his jaw tightened. Even from across the garage, I could feel his mood change.

Ignoring him, I returned to dancing, hoping the night wouldn’t turn bad. But with Kenyon in the mix, nothing was ever that simple. Nolan and Shaudi rounded out their welcome tour, greeting us with smiles and casual vibes, but Kenyon stayed back.

Nolan switched his cup to the opposite hand and hugged me, “Wassup Super Nova.”

“Hey, Nolan.”

“Damn, is that the only face you see? I thought we were cool,” Shaudi complained with his arms outstretched.

“He’s the only one who spoke,” I jabbed back, leaning into his hug.

“My bad, sis.”

“This is my cousin Brandy and my homegirl Jewel,” I volunteered, picking up on the look in Shaudi’s eye.

“Hmm, I’ve seen him around,” Jewel replied while Brandy waved.

Nolan shook his head before redirecting the conversation. “You good?”

“Are you asking for your boy?” Because Kenyon was observing our interaction like a chaperone on a field trip.

Nolan smirked. “I’m asking, but I’m sure he’s wondering.”

“Kenyon has never been shy. If he wants to know, he can ask himself.”

Nolan laughed and nodded before leaning in to whisper, “ Kenyon isn’t as hard as he seems with you. Take it easy on, bro.”

Nolan winked before walking to Kenyon posted on a low wall near the corner of the garage.

“Shaudi is cute! Is he single?” Jewel asked.

I hunched my shoulders, focusing on the conversation.

“I don’t know much about him.”

“Ask Nolan for me. Thanks!” Jewel patted my shoulder, not even waiting for me to respond.

The night dragged on, and the more I tried to ignore him, the harder it got. Kenyon didn’t look good at all. His hair wasn’t done, and he wasn’t dressed like himself. Kenyon looked as miserable as I felt. Maybe even a little worse. It shocked me for someone as good at hiding as Kenyon.

Just when I drummed up the courage to end our misery, some girl walked over, laughing and touching his arm like she had every right. I clenched my drink tighter, pretending I didn’t see it, but it was impossible to ignore. Every glance in their direction felt like salt in the wound.

“Who is that?” I asked, never looking at the brown-skinned beauty standing before Kenyon.

“Sabrina,” Jewel replied, turning to watch the same show.

Kenyon just sat there, legs stretched out, nodding now and then while Sabrina rambled. Jewel’s loud squeal pulled my attention.

“Hey Romello! Fancy seeing you here!” Jewel yelled, signaling him over while looking Brandy directly in the face.

“Wassup,” he replied, slowly approaching us.

“Who did you come with?” Jewel asked

“Dolo tonight. Wassup with y’all?”

“ Dolo ,” Jewel repeated, causing me to laugh at her not-so-subtle attempt at matchmaking.

“Come with me to grab a drink,” Brandy insisted, dragging Jewel away.

“What’s up with Jewel?” Romello asked, laughing as they walked away.

“You know Jewel,” I half smiled.

Romello followed my eyes across the garage, watching Kenyon refill another cup. I’d stopped drinking myself because I was too busy keeping track of how many he’d had.

“You might as well go over there.”

“Am I that obvious?” I asked.

“About as obvious as he was at the bowling alley.”

“While we’re on the subject of obvious ,” I shot up on my legs, “What’s going on with you and Brandy?”

“Brandy?” he repeated, shaking his head, “Nothing. Brandy is the homie.”

“Maybe it should be. Thanks for the advice.” I smiled and scooped up my cup.

I wasn’t even sure why I picked it up. The cup was empty, but I needed something in my hands as I nervously walked across the yard, praying Kenyon didn’t embarrass me because I’d be forced to embarrass us both.

“Slow down, Cowboy.”

“Take your own advice. That’s your 4th cup,” he replied, a muscle quivering in his jaw.

“So you’ve been watching me?” I asked, playfully trying to ease the tension between us.

“I’m always watching you.”

Kenyon’s honesty was enough to relax my shoulders and smirk.

“I’ve been drinking hooch since I was fourteen. Nothing on that table will get me drunk, but I’ve been drinking nothing but lemonade for the last two hours. You’re not a very good student.”

“I haven’t had anybody complaining about the thermostat in days. My head is a ‘lil fucked up.”

“If you wanted me home, that’s all you had to say.”

“I never told you to leave,” Kenyon refuted.

“You didn’t ask me to stay either.”

Kenyon surrendered. “I don’t wanna fight Babygirl, but some nights it won’t feel good. Every day isn’t a fairytale, but it’s home, so we figure it out. Not run, I thought you would’ve known that.”

Maybe I should’ve, but running when things got hard was all I knew. It was all I’d been shown.

“It’s hard not to run when I’m begging for your help, and you’re staring at me like I’m insane. I was so scared. Am scared,” I corrected myself, fumbling with my empty cup, “And you just stood there like it didn’t matter.”

Kenyon sat quietly, taking in my words while music and hushed conversations played in the background.

“You always matter, and I have to work on not just saying it but showing you when it matters.” Kenyon scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, then glanced at me, a little sheepish, “You forgive me?” He tried to lighten the mood with a small, almost embarrassed smile. “I’m still in boyfriend training. Working through problems is new.” Kenyon’s bottom lip sagged, hoping to soften my expression. “I’m out here winging it, but I’m trying.”

“Boyfriend in training, huh?”

Kenyon chuckled and nodded, a little relieved. His apology felt sincere, but I didn’t want to gloss over what started the argument. This just wasn’t the place to get into it.

“You better keep trying, then.”

Kenyon grinned, shaking his head. "Trust me, I will. I'm a quick learner."

“I wanna go home,” I admitted.

“Don’t be that girl that makes up with her man and dips on her friends. Even if he looks as good as me.” Kenyon and all his confidence was back. “I got you in a ‘lil bit, though.”

“Hey, Keyes,” Sabrina cooed, batting her lashes as she held out the plate. “You hungry?”

How she looked at him and completely ignored, my presence set me off. Before Kenyon could answer, I knocked the plate over, and the food scattered across the ground.

“Are you fuckin’ serious?” Sabrina snapped, stepping toward me, her hand pulling back to swing, but Kenyon’s arm shot out, blocking her from getting to me.

“We’re not doing that tonight!”

He was no longer a sad puppy but a Pitbull protecting his owner.

“Whatever,” she spat, turning and storming off.

I half expected Kenyon to scold me, but he glared for a moment before draping his arm around my neck as the party continued.

“Punkass nigga got his girl back and learned how to smile again,” Nolan joked.

“Don’t talk about my baby like that,” I scolded Nolan, but he waved me off.

“Oh, my bad Babygirl .”

“Watch it nigga,” Kenyon warned.

Jewel and Brandy joined us in our secluded corner, but after a while, Brandy grew tired and announced that she was ready to go. She didn’t bother telling me, figuring I was going home with Kenyon.

She was right. After promising I’d call in the morning, Nolan and Shaudi climbed in the backseat. Once we reached Kenyon’s home, it felt like the argument I walked out on greeted us at the door. Kenyon felt it, too, because he was back to being quiet and unsure of what to do next.

I sat on the couch leaning over the back, watching Kenyon’s broad shoulders lean on the kitchen counter.

“We have to talk.”

“Do we?”

“Yeah, we do boyfriend in training.”

Kenyon sighed, wearing the same expression Dad had whenever Mom told him the same.

“Let’s talk,” he conceded.

“Who was that man who questioned me at the station?”

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face like he’d been expecting this, “Ask me something else.”

“Okay, did you kill Makori and Tasha?”

Kenyon’s eyes met mine, and for a moment, I thought I saw a flash of vulnerability before it disappeared.

“If you’re looking for the perfect nigga, I’m not him.”

“If perfect is what I wanted, I wouldn’t be here!”

I had already had it, and perfect was overrated. As much as Kenyon drove me crazy, he made me feel alive. Most importantly, he made me feel perfect when I knew I was the furthest thing from it.

“I’m still in training, but isn’t hitting below the belt against the fuckin’ rules?”

“I need a minute,” I announced, walking upstairs before I hit below the belt again, but for real.

A moment is all Kenyon allowed before his steps entered the bedroom. He leaned against the doorframe for a moment, wearing a smirk that made me roll my eyes. Then he inched closer to where I had climbed under the comforter because, per usual, it was freezing in here.

“What’s really going on with you?”

“You keep dodging my questions, and it’s making me crazy. You’re used to calling the shots and everybody following you blindly. That’s not me.”

“You call the shots in my world, so what’s the problem?” he asked, pulling the blanket back and hovering over my body.

I turned my head to avoid looking Kenyon in the eyes, thinking that if I did, I could stand my ground.

“This is serious, and you’re playing.”

“Come lay your legs on my shoulders and tell me the real problem.”

“Stop it, Kenyon,”

But it was too late. Kenyon was already undressing me. I needed to feel him too so I didn’t object when he parted my thighs and made himself comfortable between them.

“If I give you something, you have to trust me and not ask any more questions.”

I hesitated, but the warmth of his touch sent a different kind of energy coursing through me. The tension between us shifted from frustration to something else entirely.

“I won’t.”

Kenyon paused, scratching his head, unsure if he could trust me with whatever was on his mind.

“He’s a district attorney running for Senate and Sydney’s father.”

But then Kenyon kissed my pussy with the same intensity as the lips on my face. Slow, passionate, and full of everything unsaid between us. My hands moved through his hair, feeling the tension in his muscles as he slid his arms around my waist.

“Now that’s out of the way. I’m all ears. Tell me why you’re really upset,” he coaxed, planting another round of kisses that made me squirm like a fish out of water. “Tell me so I can fix it.”

My clit jumped, listening to Kenyon beg for my words. I was his weakness. It was where he let himself feel vulnerable, even if it was brief. Outside these moments, he was guarded and confident, always playing it cool until he unraveled.

“Is this about Phoenix?” he guessed, lifting his chest enough for his thumb to stroke my bundle of nerves. Anyone who didn’t enjoy their man’s fingers hadn’t experienced it like this.

Then his tongue brushed across my clit, forcing me to gasp while trying to gather my thoughts. I wanted to admit I had never felt this way about a man before, and it was scary.

“I might’ve fucked around, but I’ve only made love to you,” he mumbled, branding my thighs with his lips before sitting up to stare at me like it was everything he had prayed to God for. “Tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it. Please.”

“Some days, this feels like too much. Y-you’re too much,” I paused, realizing I was doing it again. Stammering like an idiot, "But I can’t help myself. You should scare me, but you don’t. I can’t stop wanting you. Even when it feels like too much.”

“I’d never let anything happen to you. I’d give my last breath to make sure of that.”

“K-Kenyon…” I stuttered, not even sure what I wanted to say next.

“You have to trust that like you trust your lungs to breathe. Trust me Babygirl. Please.”

Just when I thought the moment had peaked, his lips hovered near my ear, and when he spoke again, the words that came out weren’t English. I didn’t know what the hell any of it meant, but it sounded so sexy as I clutched his shoulders for dear life.

Only one word stood out— Amor . I met an Amour once. She was born on Valentine’s Day, which is how she got her name. That story was the only reason I knew what it meant.

“Te amo? * ,” His words were gentle authority as he bucked deeper, begging me to take care of his heart because he had never trusted it with anyone else.

“What does that mean?” I whispered, my voice shaky.

“I love you, Zara Nicole.”

* ? I love you