Chapter 5
David not only let the girls play their music but also accepted their request with an easy, charming, “Of course.”
I nearly choked on my tongue when he opened the door for them, offered to carry their things to his trunk, and patiently helped Indie link her phone to his car’s Bluetooth. She struggled during the process, so David turned off his engine to ensure she was connecting to the correct system.
“Someone’s had their coffee this morning,” I mumbled once we were finally on the road.
Haven did, in fact, have boy bands on her playlist. But Indie didn’t object.
And without David’s usual griping, we listened to bubblegum pop anthems while we sped down the highway.
Indie and Haven sang along. In the rearview mirror, I caught Covee smiling at them and mouthing along whenever the chorus came around.
David pulled his gaze away from the road for a second to look at me. “I don’t drink coffee, remember?”
He rested his elbow on the console, coming a bit too close to pressing his bare arm against my blazer sleeve.
The car smelled of him, warm and fresh with a hint of mint.
His face was clean-shaven. The aftershave he wore was new, with a calming scent that encouraged closer inspection.
My stomach clenched when I realized I had noticed a minor change in his routine.
I tugged my hands in my lap, forcing myself to think of anything other than wanting to press my nose against his cheek.
“Well, something has put you in a good mood,” I said in a dry voice.
He smiled. “You pissed at me already, Daredevil? It’s only 9 a.m.”
“I’m not pissed.” I glanced at the rearview to see if our conversation was being too disruptive. The heartthrob’s loud singing and Indie’s failed attempts to teach the girls harmonizing kept them from noticing my conversation with David.
“Something’s got your lips puckered.” David chuckled when I instantly relaxed my mouth. “You told me to bring my best attitude, so here I am. Now, you have a problem with my good mood?”
“I don’t have a problem.”
“Then why are you holding a fist? You look ready to throw a punch.”
I let out a breath and unfolded my fingers.
David’s gaze lingered on my hand. He went quiet, distracted as he watched me flex my fingers.
The car in the lane to our left merged in front of us.
David nearly grazed their bumper since he’d been looking at me.
One of the girls yelped once he slammed on the brakes, jerking us all forward.
His arm reached out to act as a bar, keeping me from getting thrown against the dashboard.
His fingers burned on my skin. David’s touch was an oven radiating obscene heat.
He clutched my arm as if I’d slipped off the edge of a cliff, like he’d be more than willing to fall off with me before letting me go.
“That was close. Are you good?” Indie asked him, her hands braced on our headrests, knees shoved into the back of the console.
David nodded, mouth barely opening as he said, “Fine. You guys?”
“We’ll live.” Haven fanned herself, trying to calm down.
“This time,” Indie muttered, and they all tightened their seatbelts in unison, as if it were a practiced action.
David chuckled. There was a hitch in the sound, a hint of uncharacteristic anxiety.
The girls eventually calmed down enough to sing again when another song came on.
I cleared my throat after a beat when David’s protective hold lingered on me.
He snatched his hand away when he realized.
A hint of red crept up his neck. The fingers that’d been holding onto me flexed a bit before returning to the steering wheel.
“Are you…are you okay?” he asked in a low voice only I could hear. He sounded almost shy, and his gaze remained glued to the road.
“All good,” I promised in a voice even lower than his had been. I glanced down at my arm, expecting I’d find evidence of his hand on me: an outline or imprint. There was nothing, of course. No sign he’d ever crossed an unspoken threshold and touched me.
For people who’d known one another since middle school, I could count on one hand how many times we’d touched. Each one was an accident. Brushed fingers while walking side by side. Mashed shoulders in crowded rooms. Never intentional. Never lingered.
“Always ready to throw the first punch,” David said, trying to restart our normal conversation after his not-so-normal protective grip.
His husky tone attached to a part of me that needed comfort.
I closed my eyes for a second, recalling Haven’s meditation chants to center myself.
This upcoming semester was going to be stressful for me.
It made perfect sense that my mind would go to reach for some kind of relief. But David wasn’t that relief.
“I’d never punch someone,” I said. “I’m not going to start with you.”
“Not physically,” he agreed. “But verbally, you swing like an MMA fighter on steroids.”
My laugh made David glance away from the road again to study me. He didn’t linger, already having learned his lesson from before. But he took in enough of me to make it feel like I’d given him something when he looked away.
“Verbal punches are your specialty.” I unbuttoned my blazer. It was high time I settled into the ride and stopped sweating.
“Maybe,” he agreed. “But there’s no denying you can keep up.”
I mock-gasp. “Is that admiration in David Evans’ tone? Admiration for little ol’ me?”
He smiled. “Don’t get your hopes up, Daredevil. It takes a lot more than a little back and forth for me to admire you.”
“You keep telling yourself that. But it doesn’t take a genius to see I’ve already done more than enough to garner your admiration.”
“That so?”
“Yeah, otherwise you’d have stopped these dares a long time ago. You’re entangled with me till graduation,” I said. Or longer? Could we keep this up when we inevitably went our separate ways? This was the first time I had considered it, and an odd tightening in my chest made me frown.
“Entangled,” he repeated as if he were tasting the word for the first time. “Now that’s a good one. Closer to what we are to each other. But not enough. Not just right. But we’re getting there.”
When we finally arrived at the beach, Emmy and the others were already there. David parked beside them, and we climbed out of the car, stretching our arms and complaining about our numb legs.
“How was the drive?” Emmy asked when I joined her side.
She’d done the big chop and dyed it red the first week of the semester.
The new look was courtesy of a brief post-breakup identity crisis.
The only makeup she wore was a hint of blue eyeliner.
Emmy was a short, curvy, doe-eyed woman who never shied away from saying what was on her mind and only occasionally regretted it afterward.
“That good?” Emmy teased when I blew out a breath. She held out a paper bag of dried mangoes. I grabbed a handful.
“We almost got into an accident,” I said loud enough for David to hear.
He stood at the trunk of his car, helping the girls unload. My salty declaration made him scoff, and he said, “We got here in one piece, didn’t we?”
“Nice to see we’re all in good spirits.” Emmy snapped a few quick photos of our pissed expressions.
Then, in a voice low enough for only me to hear, she said, “So, I scoped out a few locations last weekend. I think I have the perfect spot for headshots, and six options for group photos. Maybe we could take some candid ones on the walk over, too? The sky’s perfect today, so natural lighting’s going to be incredible. ”
“Whatever you prefer is what we do.” The best thing about being on BWD was being a part of this team. My girls–though chaotic–rose to the occasion. I’d trust them with my over-priced planner any day.
Emmy fidgeted with her camera strap. She only ever chewed on her lip when the camera hung around her neck. Otherwise, she was all full-steam ahead, listening to the sound of no other drum but her own.
“Okay…” She pressed her lips together as she scanned the shoreline.
Instinct told me to jump in. Map out a clear route for the day because heaven knew I’d already done so a million times the night before.
But all my ideas were deep in the Plan C territory.
If three semesters of leadership taught me anything, it was when to back off.
The act didn’t come without a fight. In fact, my lips quivered with unspoken orders.
Emmy was more than capable of leading this shoot. Her past relationship had stolen her self-belief. What good was BWD for, if not to help her take it back?
“I don’t know,” she whispered with a look asking for guidance.
I shook my head and smiled. “You do know, you just told me, and it sounded perfect.”
Emmy’s shoulders relaxed, but the tension in her brow lingered.
The girls were already complaining about their heels and polyester skirts. With a loud clap, I gained everyone’s attention and directed them toward the boardwalk.
“We’re going to make this as smooth as possible while still having a little fun,” I promised with a smile.
I always loved photo day at school. My mom used each one as an excuse to dress my sisters, my brother, and me up in our Sunday best. Even though the skirts constantly itched and my braids were too tight, dressing up never failed to make me feel like I was home.
Emmy led the trek down the wooden staircase to the beach.
Once on the sand, most of us removed our shoes.
I looked around for David and found him talking to Indie.
He wasn’t exactly smiling, but the smoothness of his brow was atypical.
I ignored the clench in my chest and pushed aside the ‘how dare he have fun doing a task that’s supposed to be akin to torture’ feeling.
I said I wanted him to be an “honorable member.” Talking to the girls was a good thing. Not frowning was a good thing. And hey, maybe he’d learn some manners from Indie… or some patience from Covee… or some chill from Haven. If anyone could smooth out that asshole’s hard edges, it’d be those three.
I hurried to catch up with Emmy, who was already snapping photos of us walking through the sand.
“All good?” she asked in a distracted voice as she got a shot of Haven splashing Covee with water. She took shots quickly, as if she were afraid even blinking would make her miss the perfect moment.
I bit my tongue, forcing myself to swallow a command for the girls to stay out of the water so they remained dry. Toeing the line between bossy and too bossy was a conscious effort.
“All great.” I nodded. “I actually wanted to check in with you about our panel. Sorry to pile all this stuff on you, but I’m trying to narrow down dates and conference room schedules.”
Emmy smiled and put her camera down, turning to be sure I could see the honesty in her eyes. She kept moving, never missing a step as she said, “You know, maybe you should try to relax today. It’s a sunny day. We’re at the beach. I’m… trying to lead the shoot.”
“You’re doing a wonderful job.”
Emmy laughed a little. “Thanks. What I meant to say is, all you really have to worry about today is… smile.”
She took a photo of me without warning. I nervously pressed my hand to the top of my head. I didn’t check whether my edges were still laid and my bun was still centered.
Emmy noticed my discomfort and stopped walking backward so that she was beside me. “What’s the matter? David really getting to you? He seems chill enough today.”
I shook my head. “No, it isn’t David. I’m just… my head’s spinning, and relaxing isn’t exactly in my vocab. Plus, this year’s panels are going to be a pretty big deal for a lot of women on campus. I want to bring my A-game.”
“Whoa, Yara.” Emmy placed a hand on my shoulder. “Slow down. You’re breathing really fast.”
I stopped talking long enough to swallow and, sure enough, it felt like I was heaving air in and out.
Emmy frowned. “Are you taking time for yourself? Like regular breaks. TV veg-out days? Because from our group chat, you always have something in the pipeline. It worries me. It worries all of us.”
“I do.” The lie easily slipped off my lips, so silky smooth. I hated the taste of it, but I was in love with how it felt. “I just don’t talk about the mundane stuff much.”
She studied me for a second. “Okay, sure. But if you get too overwhelmed, you should talk to one of us. Indie’s really great at understanding pressure and anxiety, and Covee was super helpful whenever I got lonely over the summer break. We’re all here to help. Sisterhood, remember?”
My shoulder relaxed at the reminder. It was nice to have friends so willing to have my back… even when I was bent on climbing mountains alone. “Definitely. I’ll reach out if I need to… But I don’t right now. So how about that panel confirmation?”
Emmy smiled, giving in. “I’ll be there to talk about my shot putting.”
“And your cousin’s girlfriend?” I crossed my fingers, praying my luck wouldn’t run out.
“Aderyn’s on board,” she confirmed. “Ready and willing to talk about Black women in hockey. And she has a friend who can talk about Black women in streaming, too.”
I let out a sigh of relief—another thing to check off my to-do list. I was addicted to the color-coded high of those little boxes. “God, thank you. This panel’s going to be incredible. Black woman taking up space in uncharted waters. Minorities in potentially hostile environments.”
“Fun stuff,” Emmy teased.
“Amazing stuff,” I insisted. “It’ll be one of those moments where in a decade people will say, ‘Hey, I knew them before they were famous’.”
Emmy laughed, her eyes alight. “I hope so. With your energy, maybe I will make the Olympic team before my joints give out.”
“How much longer?” Indie called. “I’m not a big fan of sand between my… everything.”
“Just a few more yards, Anakin,” Emmy said.
Covee snorted, with Indie grumbling under her breath about not knowing who Anakin was.
“At those rocks,” Emmy said to me, gesturing in the distance. “I have an idea, but it’s going to take some effort. It’ll be worth it, though... I hope.”
My forehead wrinkled as I looked at the large black rocks. “Sounds great. As long as we aren’t climbing them.”
Emmy chewed on her bottom lip and busied herself with readjusting some settings on her camera.
“Emmy?” I stopped walking. “My top’s cashmere.”
She snapped another candid of me and smiled. “It’s going to be good, Yara… or, I hope it will. In my head, it’s brilliant. We don’t actually have to do it. There are some cute benches on the pier…”
I sighed, remembering that this was supposed to help rebuild her confidence. I was supposed to be her cheerleader. “No, Emmy. If you want to climb the rocks, we’re climbing the rocks.”