Page 12

They left the Airbnb just after midnight. Krys, behind the wheel, staring straight ahead like the road was the only thing that mattered. Kenyatta, on the other hand, sat stretched out in the passenger seat relaxed like he’d been riding shotgun in her life for years.

Like this was normal. It wasn’t. It shouldn’t have been. Yet, here they were.

The Porsche purred down the nearly empty streets of Trinity Bay, the streetlights casting fleeting shadows across the sleek dashboard. The night air carried a warmth that matched the lingering tension in the car, thick and unspoken.

After some time passed, Kenyatta let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “So…ol’ Zahir, huh? How bad did he fumble you?”

Krys’ grip tightened. “I don’t wanna talk about Zahir.”

Kenyatta smirked, eyes still on the road ahead. “You just did.”

She shot him a sharp glare. “You real annoying, you know that?”

“Yeah.” He stretched out, getting even more comfortable. “But tell me I ain’t wrong though.”

Krys exhaled sharply, focusing on the road. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Well, that’s why I asked. I don’t want to assume nothing.”

She countered, “Why do you want to know?”

“I’m just curious; wanna make sure I don’t do whatever dumb shit he done.”

Krys scoffed a laugh. “We’re not real though, Kenyatta. Remember? This ain’t real.”

Kenyatta didn’t argue. He just sat there, his presence taking up way too much space. He let the silence stretch between them; let them stew in it.

Then, casually, he asked, “So this my only gig? Or you gon’ need me on call?”

Krys glanced at him, expression unreadable. “What?”

“You heard me.” His brow wrinkled. “Is this a one-time thing, or am I officially your pretend man whenever you need backup?”

Krys scoffed, shaking her head. “You should always be prepared.”

Kenyatta chuckled, low and knowing. “That sound like a yes.”

She didn’t confirm or deny; just kept driving.

Krys tapped her fingers against the steering wheel, still irritated at how well he played his role. It wasn’t supposed to feel this smooth.

“You ain’t have to be that good at it though,” she muttered. She couldn’t let go of the thought. It really amazed her and shook her to the core all at the same time.

Kenyatta smiled with satisfaction, looking out the window. “That sound like a compliment.”

“It’s not.”

“Sound like one.”

She sighed, shaking her head. “You just…went all in.”

He shrugged. “Only way I know how to move.”

Her stomach dipped. She hated how effortless he made things. How easy it was for him to slip into her world.

She cut her eyes at him. “I hope you don’t think this means we friends now.”

Kenyatta grinned, tilting his head toward her. “Damn. We not even friends?”

“Nope.”

He chuckled. “Then what are we, Krys?”

Her grip tightened on the steering wheel. Because for half a second, she didn’t have an answer.

“Two people who made a deal,” she said eventually, voice clipped.

Kenyatta just smirked, like he knew that wasn’t the full truth and she was lying to herself.

The car fell into another stretch of silence, except this time, it wasn’t as comfortable. It wasn’t heavy either; just charged.

Then, out of nowhere, Kenyatta glanced toward the back seat; evidence of a pet had been in the vehicle recently. Frowning slightly. “So, where your man at?”

Confused, she questioned, “My what?”

“You know…that big black muhfucka that was keeping guard over you the other day.”

Krys blinked at the sudden shift. “Musa?”

“Yeah, him. Thought I’d get to hang with your real man tonight.” His smirk was teasing, but there was an edge of genuine curiosity.

Krys rolled her eyes, but a small smile tugged at her lips. “He’s home, probably stretched out on my couch like he pay rent.”

Kenyatta hummed. “Smart nigga.”

She gave him a sidelong glance. “Smarter than most.”

Kenyatta chuckled. “Oh yeah?”

“Mmhmm,” she mused, eyes back on the road. “He’ll probably like you…eventually.”

Kenyatta leaned back, amused. “Probably?”

Krys shrugged. “Depends.”

“On what?”

She flicked her gaze toward him, something playful but unreadable in her expression. “On if he thinks you’re full of shit.”

Kenyatta let out a deep laugh, shaking his head. “That’s crazy. You just gon’ let a dog judge my character?”

Krys said, “He has good instincts.”

Kenyatta exhaled, still grinning. “So, he the real man of the house?”

“Obviously.”

Krys didn’t hesitate, and Kenyatta just chuckled again, shaking his head. “Damn, Bae. I really gotta compete with a damn dog?”

Krys tilted her head slightly, eyes flicking toward him with something unreadable. “You sure that’s not already happening?”

Kenyatta went silent for a second, watching her. Then, with a slow, knowing smirk, he muttered, “ You full of shit, you know that?”

Krys just grinned, pressing the gas a little harder.

**********

When Krys pulled up outside Kenyatta’s spot, she expected him to just hop out and go.

Instead, he stayed put.

She glanced over. “What?”

He studied her for a second, his usual smirk absent. “You gon’ be good?”

Krys frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Just…in general.” He leaned back against the seat, voice lower now.

She hated how comfortable he looked in her car. Like he belonged there. Like she didn’t mind him being there.

“Appreciate you,” he said finally, voice a little lower than before. “For letting me slide through tonight. It was straight—Aye, tell yo’ auntie she did her thang on that soul food board. Them mac-n-cheese bites…”

Krys had to agree with him. “Yeah, they were the business. I’ll let Auntie Shonda know.”

“I had a good time though. Doing normal…” his voice wandered, “…shit.”

Krys shrugged. “You handled yourself better than I thought.”

Kenyatta licked his lips, eyes still on her. “That mean you impressed then. Go ‘head and say it, Bae.”

Krys exhaled. “It means…you didn’t embarrass me. You did your job.”

Kenyatta chuckled, then did something she didn’t expect.

He reached over, brushing a stray curl from her cheek. His fingers were warm, slow, careful. Not rushed. Not cocky.

Just intentional.

Krys’ breath caught. She was too stunned to move, to react, to stop him.

Kenyatta leaned in slightly, his voice a quiet hum. “You sure you ain’t feel nothing tonight?”

Krys swallowed, forcing herself to snap out of it. She pulled back, clearing her throat. “Get out, Yatta.”

Kenyatta smirked, like he knew he had just knocked her off balance. He continued, “Dude got in your head earlier. I saw it.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m fine.”

“You keep saying that, but you don’t look it.”

Krys sighed, annoyed at how well he read her. She was in her head; but it was other things, deeper things gnawing at her. Like his presence for one.

She turned fully toward him. “Zahir is old news, Kenyatta. I’ve moved on. This whole thing? You? Just proving a point to my family; not him.”

Kenyatta nodded slowly, like he was filing that away. Then he licked his lips, gaze dragging over her for just a second longer than necessary.

“So, you proving a point,” he murmured, his voice dropping just slightly. “But what about earlier? When I brushed that curl from your face? That part of the performance too?”

Krys’ stomach dipped.

She gripped the wheel. “Goodnight, Kenyatta.”

Kenyatta smiled, soft and genuine. Then, without warning, he reached over, slow and deliberate, and adjusted the strap of her top, letting his fingers graze her bare shoulder.

A chill ran through her.

He leaned in, voice low. “See you Monday, Bae.”

Then he was gone.

Krys sat there for a long moment, staring at the empty seat beside her.

This was getting out of hand. Yet, she couldn’t bring herself to regret it.

Not one bit.