Page 6 of The Close-Up (Hollywood Renaissance 1.50)

“I got it, Mama,” I say, shooing her back down. She’s been on her feet all day.

“Probably Coach,” Myron says. “He’s supposed to be stopping through, even though he can’t stay.”

I walk to the foyer and pull the door open.

And the world stops.

My breath can’t quite seem to make the trip from my lungs to my mouth. My heart pounds against my rib cage like a tassa drum as I stare up and up at the most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen in real life. Dark brown skin stretches over the chiseled planes of his face. I’ve never actually seen anyone with a square chin, but he has one. Everything seems to be at odds on his face. His nose is too bold. His lips too full and soft looking. His brows too heavy and severe. His eyes, warm and dark like velvet, framed by a feathering of sooty lashes. But somehow, all those disparate parts cooperate into a face so striking, my jaw falls open.

“Um…” His voice is a low, quiet rumble as he peers over my shoulder into the foyer. “Is this Cliff’s house? I took a wrong turn, but…”

Just as I’m about to shake myself out of the stupor, I stop because, all of a sudden, it feels like the same rapt way I was watching him, he’s now studying me. I go still as if with his eyes, he’s painting me, and I don’t want to distract him.

“Who’s at the door, Kira?” Mama asks from behind, drawing up beside me. “Oh, hey, Nazareth.”

Wait. Nazareth as in…Naz?

She extends her arms, and with a smile, he crosses the threshold and walks into them, bending to return her squeeze.

“Mrs. Fletcher.” He pulls back and offers her a bouquet of wildflowers I hadn’t noticed. Who cares about flowers when you’ve got this guy standing in front of you? “These are for you.”

“Hmmm. Thank you.” Mama buries her nose in the flowers and smiles up at Naz. “And how’s your mama doing? Didn’t she have surgery on her knee a while back?”

His expression clouds, and he nods. “Yes, ma’am. She just went back to work.”

“She teaches, right?” Mama asks.

“Seventh grade, yeah.” His eyes flick from Mama, settle on me briefly, and then shift back to Mama. “I guess the team’s already here? Sorry I’m late.”

“You right on time.” Mama links her arm through his and guides him toward the living room and the increasingly rowdy basketball team. “Come on. We’re about to start eating.”

I haven’t moved, my feet sealed to the floor like I’ve stepped into fast-drying cement. He glances back over his shoulder. Our eyes catch and hold, some odd understanding passing between us. Whatever that jolt was when I first saw him, I think he felt it, too. I know it, but I don’t know what to do with it. How could I when nothing like this has ever happened to me before?

I take a minute to collect my scattered thoughts before heading back into the living room. Everyone’s eating, plates balanced on their knees or on the big table in the middle of the room. Mama, making sure everyone has drinks, looks up when I return.

“Go check on Naz in the kitchen,” she says. “Make sure he doesn’t need anything.”

My pulse quickens at the thought of me and that beautiful boy alone. “Yes, ma’am.”

When I enter the kitchen, sure enough, Naz is staring at all the dishes, his empty plate held between two huge hands.

“Need help?” I ask, walking farther into the kitchen to lean against the counter.

“Uh, maybe.” He points to a few covered dishes. “Is any of that fish? I don’t really eat chicken or beef.”

“What about duck?” I ask, nodding to a plate of curried duck.

His nose scrunches. “No, and not any goat either.”

“Oh, well, goat is all we have left.”

He looks at me like he’s not sure if I’m joking.

“If my granny was here, you’d be eating goat tonight. You don’t turn that woman down.” I laugh and lift the lid on the soup. “How about fish soup and a few vegetables and coconut bread. Sound good?”

“Perfect. I don’t wanna be difficult.”

“Difficult?” I scoff. “Cliff makes me crack his crab legs and dig out all the meat. He’s the resident diva.”

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