Page 13 of Call and Response

“Uh, no, you’re not,” Winnie interrupted, still wearing that damn smirk. “I already talked to the cleaning crew about an extra day this week—paying them double time for the mess.Go home.Thanks Noble, you werebrillianttonight, by the way. Did I say that already?”

“A few times.” He nodded, chuckling as he accepted a quick hug from her. “But I’ma eat it up every time, so say it as much as you feel.”

“I know that’s right.” She laughed. “Good night. And good night,cousin,” she said, and my eyebrows shot up, confused by the emphasis, but… this was Winnie. “Noble, please make sure she gets in bed.”

“Huh?”

“Ignore her. Come on,” I insisted, looping an arm through his to get away from her before her innuendo turned into explicit instructions.

Again—this was Winnie.

“I’m not playing,” she called after us. “You know my nigga beat people up, don’t make me—”

“Hold up,what?”

Relief breezed over me as Jonathan—the nigga in question—intervened, sufficiently distracting her so we could get away.

“Sorry about that,” I offered, shaking my head, but Noble laughed.

“I’ve been around Winnie enough to know she can get a little wild at the mouth.” He shrugged. “She’s cool.”

I raised an eyebrow as we stepped out into the night, thankfully much cooler than it had been all day. “Really? You’ve been kinda giving uptight vibes, so I’m surpri—”

“Uptight?” he cut in, clearly taken aback. “Me?”

“Yeah,” I chuckled. “You.You were lowkey rude to me at the coffeehouse.”

He opened his mouth, probably to refute that claim, then… realized he couldn’t. “My bad,” he chose instead, looking ahead of us on the sidewalk to avoid looking at me.

“The music is a tough topic for you…”

There was no use in framing it as a question when it was so abundantly clear.

He nodded. First at my question, then to a small group walking past who recognized us and spoke, but otherwise kept it pushing—magic of a neighborhood like the Heights.

“I don’t know how to thank you,” he said, after we’d walked in silence for a bit. “Honestly… I’d been thinking about hanging it all up, and I still might, but… this was… I won’t forget this.”

He finally looked at me, holding my gaze for so long that the smile my mouth curved into was more reflexive than anything else, prompted by the feeling of butterflies in my chest.

“I should thankyou,” I told him. “I don’t think I would’ve been nearly as well-received without the hometown hero at my side. Not to mention, that brain of yours, some of those lyrical references you ad-libbed?Genius.”

He shrugged. “That’s what you said we were doing, right? Call and response.”

“I mean yeah, butdamn. You’re… gifted,” I said, and this time, I was the one holding the gaze, wanting him to understand I really meant that shit.

That talent-attractiveness-intellect trifecta was nothing to sneeze at.

“I appreciate that.” He nodded, breaking the eye contact to look up the street again.

“But do youbelieveit?” I asked.

His gaze shot back to mine.

Eyes narrowed.

“What?”

“I asked if you believed what I said. If you believe you’re gifted,” I repeated, though I was confident he’d heard me perfectly well the first time.

---