Page 94 of You've Got a Place Here, Too
I excuse myself from the Meridian girl and head to Lynetta, who scooted over to the wall after a guy asked her friend to dance, rocking to the music and watching her girl boogie on the dance floor.
I ease my way to her side, giving her some space so she doesn’t think I’m trying to rub up on her. “Why are you on the wall by yourself?”
She looks at me and her face lights up, then Lynetta stands on her tiptoes and shouts over the bass. “I feel like the only time I see you is when you’re riding off into the sunset somewhere on your bike. Still working a million jobs?”
I burst out laughing. “Nothing’s changed,” I yell to her.
“The record store and the library, right?” she asks.
“You remembered,” I respond, and she nods. “You never stopped by though.”
Lynetta leans in and cups her hand to my ear, her breath grazing it. It takes all the restraint in me not to jump. “I don’t own a record player.”
“But you love to read,” I reply.
“No need to call me out, Assad,” Lynetta replies, and I laugh. “I guess I could neverreadif you were interested.”
I lean down and speak into her ear, notes of jasmine playing along her long neckline. “I did try, you know. I ran into one of your Quad homegirls and gave her my number to give to you. Vivian, I think it was.”
Lynetta chuckles. “Yeah, about that. So Viv and I had a fallin’ out.”
It’s my turn to laugh, thinking about some of the “Gentleman of Drew Hall” guys I fell out with myself. “She never gave it to me.” I release a sigh, thankful I wasn’t delusional about our fascination with one another.
“That means I can dance with you then?” I ask. “Or will this boyfriend I hear whispers of have a problem with that?”
She simply nods, takes my hand, and I try my hardest not to study the curve of her hips or dip in her back as she leads me to the dance floor.
The DJ is playing hit after hit, and as “Genius of Love” begins to play, a breakdancing crew forms and Lynetta and I move to the side to let the pros shine, her body posted in front of me.
As she studies the crowd, I sneak a whiff of her hair, the coconut scent taking me back to my childhood, watching my mom plait my sister’s hair, using a dab of pink lotion she’s squeezed onto the bathroom sink counter. Feeling a sense of familiarity with a woman I don’t know but feel like I do.
Lynetta
Here’s the thing about when you’re into someone. Doesn’t matter how much time passes, when the feeling is there it’s just there.
The tempo of the music changes, to something slower. More amorous. Assad and I awkwardly await what to do next.
Thanks to the breakdancing battle, we’ve been pushed more toward the wall, and as he tries to lead me back to the dance floor, I back him away from the disco ball’s spotlight, and prying eyes. He slides me over to the corner, and I like this little barricade for us—it feels private and lets me loosen up. Before I know it, I’m grinding to Marvin and his hands are caressing my back as I tighten my grip around his neck, pushing our bodies intimately close.
It’s too early to determine if I’d be Assad’s back-pocket theory, but I do know in this moment, all I want is to cozy up to Assad, enjoy myself, and not overthink if he truly likes me, or if it’s homecoming season and he’s doing what every man does—secure a conquest for the weekend, someone to brag about with his boys. I hear my mom’s voice telling me not to act buck wild, but I let those thoughts drift. As we continue to slow dance, he pulls me in closer and while I should attempt to stop, I don’t want to. He smells like everything I want a man to smell like, a blend of amber, chamomile, and leather, and when his lips brush my lower neck while hugging it sends my body into a shock.
Freakin’ betrayed me.
He hesitates, noticing my response as I pull away quickly. “You aight?” he asks, his breath quick.
“Yeah,” I say, my heart pulsating. “You’re just…”
“Intense,” he says, smiling, slowly letting go of my waist.
“Yeah, that.”
My head is buzzing. This is a lot, so soon.
Assad was easier to deal with when it was just a silly, long-standing, far-off crush, or at least that’s what I’d tried to convince myself. But if I’m being real, it has never felt like that. This feels like something else entirely.
Assad
I felt a slight convulsion when my lower lip grazed her collarbone. Her skin’s warmth is radiating from her blouse, her chest pressed against my own. And I want to kiss her so bad, but I don’t want her thinking I’m trying to get into her pants because it’s homecoming. I’m in disbelief I’m so close to Lynetta during the best time of the year.
