Page 49 of Birdy

“You can’t control shit like that, B. No one can. A connection like that doesn’t give a flying fuck about time or place. It comes in hard and fast when we least expect it.”

She’s definitely not wrong there. Andrés came in like a goddamn freight train. “I know, I know, but…”

“But what?” she presses again, and again I shrug into the darkness.

There isn’t an actual “but” other than a singular fact I’m ashamed to admit to myself, much less voice aloud.

Fear—the fear of getting hurt again. ‘Cause let’s face it, this thing—whatever it is—is intense enough as it is, and while I don’t regret opening the door a ways more, it’s a very real possibility I’ll be left to pick up the pieces when it’s all said and done. I don’t think my heart could handle it. The first time was hard enough.

A quick fuck? Sure, no problem, I could do that all day with my eyes closed, but something tells me that if Andrés puts his hands on me, it’s going to be far from those detached quick fuck vibes.

“Just keep it light, okay?” Selena says after a silent beat. “No kissing, none of that sweet shit. Suck him off, let him pound you into next week, and that’s it. Wham bam thank you, ma’am, or I guess, in this case, thank you, sir. And that’s only if he gives you the phone. If he doesn’t, call that shit off and keep it moving. We’ll find a way for you to talk tomami.”

I’m not even remotely surprised she knew what I was thinking, not when we’ve been bunkies for three years. Selena knows everything there is to know about me and vice versa, which means she knows I’m a hard-ass bitch.

My heart, though?

Not so much.

* * *

Yard time isone of my favorite parts of the day. The Florida humidity still sucks, but being out in the sun and getting to breathe that fresh air helps get me through another day. Today is no exception. It’s beautiful out—not a single cloud in the sky. Kind of windy, too, a soft breeze whipping past my face as I tread farther into the yard toward Mari and a few of the girls at one of the tables.

“Oye!”

The sound of my voice whips her around, a broad smile drifting across her face. “Sup,putaaa,”she drawls, holding out a fist.

I bump mine against hers and swallow her in a hug. “When can you thread my brows, bitch? I’ve got caterpillars hanging on my face.”

Mari’s the resident eyebrow lady in B Block.

Laughing, she reaches for my face and swipes her thumbs along said caterpillars. “They’re notthatbad, but I can clean ‘em up tonight unless you showered already.”

“Nah, not yet, so that works.”

The showers are where everything against conduct happens: fights, commissary swaps, contraband sales, eyebrow threading,sex.

Everything.

And yes, getting your eyebrows done really goes against conduct. Insert the eye-rolling emoji right here.

“I need mine done too,” Quinn quips from her perch on top of the table, smoothing out her blonde brows.

“So do I.” That’s Gia.

Mari sighs and throws her head back playfully on a groan. “Why the fuck do y’allpendejaswait until the last minute? You know it takes a good fifteen apiece. I gotta be able to wash my ass at some point, too, before they’re calling us—”

“Well, well, well, would ya look at that,” Quinn cuts her off, green eyes trained across the yard.

Gia, Mari, and I all follow her line of sight, and what we see solidifies Mari’s story from last week.

It’s Koko. Well, it’s Franca and her twin ass-licking sidekicks, Beth and Carrie, closinginon Koko, but obviously, she’s there, waiting for those D Block bitches like they’re the best of friends. Judging by the way they greet each other, it sure looks like they are.

My eyes narrow of their own accord as I watch their interaction take place. Franca’s your quintessential ghetto Italian bitch from New York, down to the mannerisms and all. She’s loud, conceited, and apparently “knows it all.” She’s also the Queen-Pin in D Block. Her charge is infinitely worse than mine, though—killed a few motherfuckers who were trying to intercept one of her shipments.

Now she’s here for life.

Beth and Carrie, on the other hand, are entitled, little white girls. Grew up privileged from what I’ve heard. Evidently, theirverybiological father used to fuck them—at the same time—and when he tried to cut them off after some ‘Come to Jesus’ moment, they killed him.

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