Page 136 of Falling Into Gravity

Aku grinned. “I ain’t tryna die, Malik.”

“Girl, you safe with me. Come on.”

The four-wheeler peeled through Crescent like Malik owned every square inch. And he kinda did. Every corner they passed, somebody was waving or nodding. He held the handlebars with ease, back straight, head high. Aku sat behind him, arms around his waist, chin on his shoulder with her phone in her hand.

She pressed play onJourneyby Shae Universe, and the mood shifted instantly.

Malik laughed. “You stay tryna make shit poetic.”

“It’s called a vibe,” she shouted over the wind, eyes tight from the huge smile on her face.

The beat melted into the sound of engines, and Aku felt herself soften against him. His scent. The air. The baby moving low in her belly, like it knew it was wrapped in something safe tonight. Malik rode like he had a point to prove, like he was showing the block thatshewas his now. His girl. His future. Ain’t no hiding it.

Everything about the moment felt surreal—sun setting behind the houses, streetlights flickering to life, the rhythm of Crescent beating in tune with her heartbeat. Kids on porches paused to stare. Old heads nodded like they knew what kind of love this was. Even strangers smiled at them, like they could feel the peace radiating off Aku’s back.

Take me on a journey. So far away. Into the stars, the clouds, the galaxies, don’t leave me astray.

She squeezed him tighter trying to melt into his skin.

So many times, she wondered if this world he came from would ever make space for her. But tonight… tonight it didn’t just make space—it held her. Welcomed her. And Malik—rough, tender, loyal Malik—was the one guiding her through it all.

Then, outta nowhere, a white boy cruised past in a beat-up truck, windows down, blastingCan I Be Himby James Arthur. Malik caught the tail end of the chorus and slowed down just enough to pull up next to him.

“Aye, cuh!” Malik shouted. “What’s the name of that song?”

The boy grinned, hand out the window like he’d just been discovered. “James Arthur. Can I Be Him. That shit go, right?”

Malik nodded. “Bet. Appreciate you.”

He sped off, eyes smiling.

“You liked that song?” Aku asked, her lips super close to his ear.

Malik’s dick jumped at the warmth of her breath and the sweetness of her voice. “I’m fuckin’ wit it.”

“Just so damn cool.” She smirked before placing a kiss on the side of his face. “I fuck with it though.”

Her jazziness made him laugh as he still cruised through the streets. He had a destination on his mind—some shit he needed to do to show Aku who he really was—what he truly carried.

So lost and caught up in him, Aku was willing to go wherever Malil took her.

The four-wheeler rumbled low as Malik eased off the throttle and coasted up the block. The closer he got, the more it felt the same even though he avoided this part like the plague.

Aku’s arms wrapped tight around his waist with her cheek pressed against his back. Her stomach had been fluttering the whole ride, not just from the speed, but because she was carrying a secret she hadn’t felt yet.

Malik brought them to a slow stop in front of a brick wall tagged with layers of history. The mural of Jules was still there, untouched except for time. His half-smile stared out at the world beneath a blue crown and a spray-painted message:LONG LIVE THE HEARTBEAT.

Just beside it—added maybe a year ago—was another fresh and vibrant piece. Zaire. Arms crossed, standing tall on a lush green course. Blue fitted. Golf club in hand. A gold medal spray-painted around his neck with the wordsFROM THE SET TO THE STARSscrawled above it.

Aku slid off the back of the bike first, letting her fingers trace her belly briefly before dropping her hand and walking toward the wall. Malik stayed put, just watching her.

“Zaire really from here,” she commented, turning back to glance at Malik.

“Yea. He’s a little older than me but he a real Crescent baby.” Malik nodded. “He used to roll dice right there. He used to postup on the corner with a busted golf club, hittin’ bottle caps into traffic.” He pointed to the bottom step of a boarded-up duplex. “Every Sunday. Dirty-ass fingernails and them lil’ cartoon socks. He got a full scholarship to some golf academy out the blue. Nigga ain’t looked back since. He still rep us though.”

Malik finally stepped off the bike and walked over, slow like his memories were fighting him every step of the way. “But Jules,” he nodded toward the first mural, “ain’t get that kinda ending.”

She turned to face him, eyes soft but searching. “Right here?” she whispered.

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