Page 23 of As You Walk On

Case in point: “I always felt like he was slick checking out my junk in the showers,” Cole adds. “Appraising the merchandise, you know?”

“What?”

Cole shrugs, pushing back his messy brown hair. “I don’t think he’s a creep. You two been friends for a long time?”

“Since we were, like, five,” replies Jay, face flushed.

“We all do it. Size each other up and shit. It’s a guy thing,” Cole continues, bobbing his head like this is nothing but casual talk between buddies. “It just felt like he wanted...something.”

There’s a buzz catching like fire in my nerves, waiting for Jay to correct Cole. Shut him down. But all Jay does is blink, lips opening and closing.

“N-no, it’s not like that,” he finally stammers. “Theo’s chill.”

“You sure?”

“I swear.”

“Good.” Cole taps a friendly fist to Jay’s shoulder. “Like I said, I don’t have any problems with dudes likethat. I didn’t want any awkwardness if we see each other later.”

Jay chews on his bottom lip, rocking on his heels.

“There won’t be.”

He doesn’t add anything else. Cole disappears into the checkout line. Jay holds on to a smile that doesn’t reach very high. Eventually, he starts up an animated conversation with Mya Anthony by the frozen yogurts. Like the last five minutes never happened.

Except they did.

I want to ask Jay why he even entertained the conversation for longer than ten seconds. Is it something he always does when I’mnot around? Let some B-movie asshole spit homophobic lies about his best friend?

But I’m frozen in place, trying to cool the anger building in my throat.

Never in public, Dad’s reminded me multiple times.Don’t be that angry Black boy everyone loves to hate.

“Theo?”

My head whips to the left. It’s Luca, an eyebrow arched curiously.

“Um, yeah?” I croak.

He waves a hand in the vicinity of where I’m resting against a candy rack. “Do you mind? I’ve got a theme going here.”

That’s when I notice the collection of goods cradled in his arm: tropical-flavored Red Bull; a pack of Reese’s Peanut Butter Lovers cups; a can of stackable salt and vinegar chips; and a bottled water, hopefully to balance all the salty-sweet flavors.

I snort. “What’s the theme? Chaos?”

“Ha. Ha.” A seamless smile unrolls across his mouth. “Don’t hate.”

Hands up, palms out, I say, “Wouldn’t dream of it.” I back away from the candy shelf, eyeing him. “Let me guess. The missing ingredient is... Sour Patch Kids? No, Lemonheads. Stabilizes the harshness of the chips, right?”

He chews his lip like he’s holding back a laugh. His chin juts toward an assortments of Starburst candies.

“Hmmm.” I tap my chin, grinning. “You look like...”

I access his outfit: White Air Force 1s. Tan, black, and red plaid pants. It’s the black T-shirt withFood Vibes Onlyin yellow lettering across his chest that seals the deal.

I swipe up a blue-green pack. “Tropical, obviously.”

“Wrong.” He plucks the yellow pack from the shelf. “Original. I’m a pink-Starburst-only guy.”

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