Page 56 of Tainted
“Talk to me.”
She shook her head and pressed her forehead against her knees, trying to shrink into herself.
Crouching down, I tapped her shoulder, and she slid forward enough for me to settle behind her. She reclined into my chest, and I lost track of how long we sat on my bathroom floor.
“I won’t tell anybody you’re not as hard as you act. I’m a pro at keeping secrets. I’ve got the ‘Keyes’ to keep them safe.”
That got a tiny smile out of her, though she quickly tried to hide it.
“Keep being mysterious. I’d hate for all your groupies to find out how corny you are.”
“I’m here if you want to talk. Or, we can just sit here until you’re ready to be seen again.”
She stayed quiet for a while, then finally lifted her head. “One day, I went to work with my mom, and the next, we had to move away. It changed everything, and I couldn’t even tell you why. I hate secrets. They ruin everything.”
“Sometimes knowing the truth doesn’t change the outcome.”
“Yeah, but at least you know why something is happening instead of feeling like a bystander in your own life.” She bit herlip, clearly fighting some internal battle. “You’ve been so nice today. This is getting no fun.”
I grinned, trying to lighten the mood. “It’s no fun in kicking people when they’re down. You give your best comebacks at full strength.”
“Are you ever serious?”
“You needed that smile more than me being serious. But I’m serious about getting off this floor. My back can’t take it.”
“You’re a little too young for back problems.”
“Easy for yo’ ass to say. You were leaning on me. I was leaning on hard-ass wooden cabinets.”
We walked back into my room, and I noticed how she paused, staring at the bed. We slid under the covers, and I could tell she was still shaken. I was trying to get comfortable when suddenly, I felt her feet brush against my leg, cold as ice.
"Aye, yo!" I yelled over my shoulder with a raised brow.
"I’m freezing in this icebox you call a house," she said, wiggling her toes under the blanket and brushing them against my leg. I tensed up and gave her a stern look.
"Do it again, and I’m putting your ass on the couch.”
“They’re just toes,” Zara wiggled her toes again, just to mess with me. I peeked under the covers, lifting the blanket just enough to glance at her feet. They were perfect, just like her.
I looked up, trying to keep a straight face. “They felt a little rough rubbing my leg. I had to see what they looked like.”
She laughed harder, her body shaking next to mine, “You’re full of shit. My toes are cute, and my regulars love them.”
“Anyway, how did you get into dancing?” I asked, changing the subject because I didn’t want to think about other nigga’s admiring her body.
“Years of practice. Cheer. Tap. Ballet. Contemporary. I’ve done it all, but life happened,” she replied, nestling closer to my side.
“If life didn’t happen, what would you be doing right now?”
“Dancing somewhere other than Utopia. I probably would’ve gone to college for formal training until Beyonce opened auditions for dancers,” she replied, grinning as she snuggled back into her pillow, “Then, once I’m ready for a family and something more stable, maybe open a dance studio. What about you?”
“What about me?”
She rested her chin on my chest, and those sexy ass lips I loved quirked, “I just can’t see a man like you being content with running an apartment complex,” she rambled, then realized how her statement might come across, “No offense. I get doing what you have to do right now but if you could do anything. What would it be?”
There was no point in imagining dreams that couldn’t come to fruition. Zara wouldn’t understand that, so I chose to deflect instead.
“What doesa man like memean?”