Page 103 of Heavy Is The Crown

Stevie, from across the table, grumbled under his breath. “Man, y’all Triton fans get on my damn nerves. Defense trash this year.”

Panda laughed. “You just mad ‘cause you a Falcons fan, and y’all stay mid.”

Stevie sucked his teeth. “Tritons ain’t done shit since ‘09.”

Krys leaned back. “Man, the Cyclones are gonna have a better season than the Tritons, and that’s saying a lot.”

Pam rolled her eyes. “See? That’s the problem with y’all now. Argue about these teams like y’all getting a check from ‘em.”

Jared grinned. “Alright, what about college ball? You Trinity State or Bayview?”

Kenyatta responded with certainty. “Man, Bayview Stormrunners all day. You already know.”

Panda snorted. “Knew I liked you.”

Kenyatta joked, “Finally, somebody in here got taste.”

Krys narrowed her eyes at Panda. “You really went Bayview on me?”

Panda shrugged, sipping from the drink Sydnee handed her. “I like winners.”

Krys gasped, clutching her chest like Panda just cursed in church. “It’s Trinity State Barracudas til I die.” She flipped a strand of hair out of her face, smirking at Kenyatta. “I just can’t believe I let a Stormrunners fan sit next to me.”

Kenyatta licked his lips, eyes dark with challenge. “You gon’ do me like that?”

Jared laughed. “A’ight then, we running a game soon. See if you really like that.”

Kenyatta nodded. “Say less.”

Ray nudged Krys. “You ready?”

Krys challenged, “Hope you can keep up, Yatta.”

Kenyatta leaned in, his voice low. “Oh, Iplanto.”

Their chemistry did another cell divide; advancing another notch to whatever this was building between them. Not in a way that anyone else noticed; but they did.

**********

The summer night was alive with the soft hum of cicadas and tree frogs croaking, the air thick with the scent of magnolia trees and cut grass. A ceiling fan spun lazily above them, barely pushing back the June heat.

Kenyatta had just stepped outside onto the screened-in porch that overlooked the yard, the warmth of Pam’s soulful dinner still sitting comfortably in his chest. The air was thick with the lingering scent of collard greens, baked mac and cheese, and cornbread, a true Sunday spread. Not a single plate had been left untouched, and even now, the faint hum of conversation and laughter spilled through the screened door behind him.

He let his head drop for a second, rolling his shoulders, letting the peace settle. That’s when he felt another presence.

“Nice night.”

He turned slightly.

Sydnee.

She leaned against the porch railing, effortlessly composed. She wasn’t looking at him at first, just gazing out at the yard like she had all the time in the world. But Kenyatta wasn’t stupid. This wasn’t random or intentional.

He took a slow breath before answering. “Yeah. Good food, good people.”

Sydnee hummed softly. “Pam’s house will do that.”

Another pause.

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