Page 68 of Heavy Is The Crown

“You always moving. Always handling something. You ever just…chill?”

Krys questioned, “Is that your way of saying I’m uptight?”

Kenyatta grinned, shaking his head. “Nah, just tryna figure you out, that’s all.”

Krys folded her arms. “Why?”

Kenyatta didn’t answer right away. He just watched her, his gaze slow and intentional. “‘Cause you interest me.”

Krys wasn’t expecting that. For a moment, she just looked at him. Kenyatta was serious, no teasing smirk, no game-playing.

Just honest; and it threw her off balance.

She tilted her head slightly. “You know, Kenyatta…”

He cut his eyes. “Here we go.”

She chuckled softly. “I think you just like the idea of trying to figure me out. That don’t mean you ever will.”

Kenyatta licked his lips, watching her closely now. “We’ll see about that.”

The words hung between them, thick with something unspoken. Something neither of them was quite ready to address.

But it was there.

**********

The sun was starting to set, casting a warm orange glow over the small courtyard. The trimmed hedges stood at attention, the winding sidewalk empty except for the occasional tenant walking their dog or carrying in groceries.

Krys sat comfortably, legs crossed at the ankle, her iced coffee resting between her fingers. Kenyatta was next to her, one foot propped up on the step below, forearms resting on his knees as he stared off into nothing.

For the first time since they started this little game, neither of them were playing. They were just…talking.

Something about that made Krys uneasy.

She cleared her throat, swirling the ice in her cup. “So…you tell baby girl she’s coming to the graduation yet?”

Kenyatta let out a deep sigh, running a hand over his head. “Nah. I gotta figure out how to tell her without her thinking I’m about to drop her off on somebody again.”

Krys lifted a brow. “She don’t like being passed around?”

“Hell nah. And I don’t blame her. She’s eight; she notices everything now.”

Krys found herself intrigued. She’d heard plenty of men talk about their kids, but the way Kenyatta spoke about Kaliyah was different. It wasn’t just fatherly obligation; it was genuine awareness.

She shifted slightly, resting her elbow on her knee. “You and her mom…y’all cool?”

Kenyatta let out a sharp breath. “Define cool.”

Krys scoffed. “You know what I mean. Y’all get along?”

He hesitated. Then, “It’s…complicated.”

Krys lifted a brow. “Complicated?”

Kenyatta rubbed his jaw. “I mean, we ain’t at each other’s necks, but we ain’t co-parenting goals, either. Brooke got her new dude now, and he’s…that nigga in the streets, so I don’t even like dealing with her like that unless I got to.”

The slight edge in his tone caught Krys’ attention.

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