Page 7 of The Consequence of Loving Me

“Yes, Momma?”

“You need to suck in. I can see way too much of your fat in these photos,” Tiffany said.

My hand felt the way Selma’s stomach tensed. And worse, I felt her stomach pull in.

“Much better,” her mother said.

Because of my hand placement, I knew Selma spent the next five minutes of our photo ops with her stomach clenched and pulled in. I spent those same five minutes with my blood boiling.

Her mother had gone cold, and I knew it had to be devastating for Selm.

It was a pivotal moment in my life. Before then, I had always protected Selma; it was in my blood to do so. An instinct. But on that day, I vowed to myself that I would never let Selma’s kind soul turn to stone like her mother’s had.

I wouldn’t let her father or her mother be the reason the light left her eyes. Nothing else mattered to me in that moment other than sheer determination to wrap Selma in a tight cocoon and use myself as a shield to protect her from the harsh reality of her world.

That night was the first night I kissed her.

It was the night we went from being best friends, to being more.

Now, our more looks a lot like best friends who share a bed and occasionally kiss every now and then.

Selma’s voice breaks me out of my memory. She’s going on and on about how hard she studied for the test, which she did. Every spare second she found—outside of work and completing her assignments for her other classes—had been spent studying for that test.

But to her dad, it didn’t matter.

“He has no right to be mad, Selm.” I reach into my pocket and pull out the keys to our front door. They jingle before I twist them in the appropriate locks and pull them back out.

Selma barely looks at me as she breezes in, letting her backpack flop onto our couch when she reaches it. “But he does, Maverick. He’s paying for me to go here. I don’t want to disappoint him. I just need to work harder. Be better.”

Her last words are said from the kitchen. I hear her open the refrigerator door and rifle through it until she finds whatever she’s looking for. Probably string cheese. She’s been obsessed with it since we were children.

I find my guess to be true. She’s unwrapping a cheese stick when I walk into the kitchen.

I prop my hip against the granite counter and look at her. “Want me to talk to him?”

Her small fingers pull a long strip of cheese and then she places it into her mouth. Those green eyes find mine as she nods her head.

“I’ll call him right now,” I respond, pulling out my phone and retreating to our patio.

His name is in my recent call log, so I click it and wait for him to pick up.

We’re a couple of minutes into a heated conversation when Aspen approaches our house. I can tell he knows exactly who I’m talking to by the look on his face. He gives me a sad nod before going through the front door. I know Selma’s in good hands with Aspen, so I engage again with Tony.

“I won’t accept an illiterate daughter,” he says, causing blood to rush through my body in anger.

“It was a B, Tony. She worked her ass off and studied hard for that test. Give her a break,” I tell him, trying to reason with the man.

“That doesn’t help her case. If she worked as hard as she said she did, she wouldn’t have gotten a B.”

My eyes wander to my black joggers, where I find a long blonde piece of hair. It must be Veronica’s. I hold it between my two fingers and let it fly away in the wind as Tony continues to drone on.

“How are your classes going for you, Maverick?” The tone of his voice changes when he asks this—because he respects me.

And it only disgusts me. Selma longs for the exact thing I receive from him so easily. But, that same respect is also an advantage for me. It helps me turn his anger away from her.

“Going well. I’ve been spending a lot of time in the library, but it’s paying off.” My eyes follow a group of students walking down the sidewalk in front of my house.

“I’m glad to hear that. Don’t disappoint me, my boy,” he says.

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