Page 63 of Obey

Jagger uses his other hand to dust off Harry’s shoulder with a grin that sends chills through my body. “I dare you to test me, Harry. I fucking dare you.”

“I want my promise ring back.” Harry’s voice is small.

“Tough shit. It belongs to me. You want it, come and take it.”

The challenge hangs heavy in the air.

“Just as I thought, chicken shit.” Jagger snorts again, toying with Harry. There’s a dangerous edge to his voice. As much as this feels a gross over reaction to what transpired between Harry and me, I also know this resentment between them has beenbrewing for years. Jagger needs to get this off his chest and clear the air.

“You never talk to her again, you hear me? Delete her number, delete that Find My Friend shit, and stay the fuck away from her. Even if I never see her again, you’re done with her.”

I could have set the boundary, but it would have exhausted and wrecked me. I feel like I need to confirm what he says is what I truly want, that he’s not speaking for me.

“He’s right, Harry. We’re done. Move on.” I turn to Daddy. “I won’t marry him.”

“I’m sorry I ever asked you to.” Daddy’s shaking his head as Mama’s head snaps up and spins to face him. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I should never have locked you into a relationship with this piece of crap.”

A smile pulls on the corner of my lips.

“You should leave.” Mama turns to Harry. “Talia’s made herself crystal clear. She’s done with you, Harry.” She holds her hand out.

Harry hands over a little red, velvet box. It’s grandma’s engagement ring. I guess he thought giving me a family heirloom would make me forget the fact he slipped his eggplant into another woman’s vegetable patch.

Jerk.

I’d forgotten he dropped the ring in to get resized and some of the prongs around the stones reinforced, they were starting to get weak from being so old and well-worn.

Harry gets up and leaves, which makes the table of knitters incredibly happy. I know this because they whoop and cheer, applauding. One of them shouts “good riddance,” while another asks Jagger to marry her.

He gives a tight-lipped smile to my parents, sweeps his fingertips over my face, and makes his way over to the knitters. I can’t stop myself from following him with my gaze.

“You at least like him.” Mama’s words are accusatory, with a sharp edge.

“I do, Mama. And if that’s a problem for you, then it’s precisely that. Your problem.”

Her eyes flex wide. None of us are really sure where this backbone has come from, but I’m afraid it’s going to run away and leave me if I don’t quit while I’m ahead.

After a couple of minutes over at the knitting table, they all get up and give him hugs one at a time. He then comes back over to me, scratches the back of his neck with his palm before tucking his hand into the back pocket of his jeans.

“Heisa problem.” Her voice is hard. And I’m not going to press her to explain what she means, because if she opens her mouth and my racist grandfather comes out, there’s going to be bigger problems than Jagger assaulting Harry. I’ll throw something at my mother. The disgust in her tone could be for any number of reasons, I wouldn’t put it past her to be this unhappy simply because Jagger has a penis.

“I’ve gotta get going.” Speaking of Jagger, he’s staring at my mother with a hardness in his eyes.

My stomach sinks. But, what? Aren’t we going to figure things out between us? “But...”

“Let him leave, Talia. The man says he needs to go.” Mama won’t let it drop.

His eyes barely come up off the floor, and all the fight I had in me moments ago evaporates on an exhale. “Okay. Do you need a ride?”

He shakes his head. “It’s all good. Slade’s outside waiting for me. Thanks though.”

I stand up, instantly regretting my action because my legs are shaking. “Jagger.”

Another headshake. “I’m sorry Half-Pint.”

Tears well in my eyes as a lump swells in my throat.

“Girls like you don’t date guys like me.” He glances at my parents a few feet away. “You’re too good for both of us, like I said.” He doesn’t wait for an answer, he plants a chaste kiss on my temple. “Take care of yourself, okay?” His voice cracks, but he’s not backing down. I don’t know whether to scream or cry right now.

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