Page 181 of Treason's Temptation
Rayven nodded, while my hat shielded the confusion in Navie’s eyes.
“Number?”
Roping my arm around her neck, I guided her toward the parking lot so she didn’t ruin Rayven’s evening with fifty questions.
“Why did you give her your number?”
“So next time she can’t reach you, she can reach me. Or would you rather have her panic and callSloane?”
Her brain registered my comment as a threat instead of a solution.
“How do you know about that?”
“I know everything, Blue,” I pulled her in enough to kiss the side of her forehead, “Sisters and brothers talk about shit too.”
“Anyway, what happened to my campus tour?”
“You spent too much time dropping it like it’s hot. Now we’re running behind,” I replied, double.
Navie stopped moving her feet and crossed her arms like a toddler having a tantrum.
“Don’t tell me you’re a lyin’ ass nigga like the rest or a man of your word.”
“Why are you doin’ me like this?”
“Isn’t holding you accountable my job?”
Navie was testing me and pushing boundaries and waiting for repercussions, abandonment, or worse. Being a brat was the only way she knew how to express herself. Luckily for her, I wasn’t a fan of my lady being mad or upset.
“You don’t have to throw a tantrum to get your way. Just ask Daddy for what you need.”
Navie’s eyes narrowed, turning sideways, taking in the campus while weighing her options and nudging her chin back at me because the tour was just a cover for something deeper. Something more vulnerable that made her so hot, she brushed her hand across her forehead.
“I like knowing stuff about you. The real you, like your mom making you tomato soup after your first heartbreak.”
My chin dipped as I looked at the smile curling on her lips, amused.
“You and Inez are getting a ‘lil too close.”
“That’s my girl.”
I didn’t mind sharing Mom with Blue. She needed support, and from where I stood, Sloane damn sure wasn’t qualified to give it.
“So who was she?”
“Can’t remember,” I shrugged.
“You are a terrible liar,” she laughed, knowing I didn’t forget shit, but Kiana Morris wasn’t important.
We passed the quad where I used to post up between classes, past the old brick halls that still smelled like ambition and sweat. I hadn’t been back to Naylor Southern’s campus in a minute. The buildings looked the same, but something about being here hit differently with Navie walking beside me. We moved slowly, Navie taking it all in, me watching her more than the tour itself.
“What dorm did you live in?”
“Dabney Hall.”
“How many times did you get caught sneaking girls in?”
“None,” I replied, because I was smarter than the rest of my homies. “My RA had ADHD, but his people didn’t believe in meds. He was struggling like a motherfucka, and theythreatened to pull him from school if he didn’t get his shit together. I helped him and he helped me.”
