Page 214 of Kentrell

She leaned into me like second nature, fitting against my side like she’d been there all along.

And just like that… the energy shifted.

It was like the room… the house… hell, even my brothers… felt it too.

She was home.

The room finally settled into something close to a rhythm after that—Zoe curled under my arm like she belonged there,while my brothers made themselves at home like they paid rent and held the deed. Wave was already flipping through the channels like this was his spot, feet kicked up and remote in hand. Oshon stretched out on the ottoman like he was on a damn staycation. Wani helped himself to a water from the bar fridge, twisting the cap off like he’d bought it. Kensei stayed perched on the arm of the couch, hoodie still half on, nodding along to everything but only speaking when necessary. Typical Kensei—observing first, talking second.

Zoe eased into it after a while. I felt the shift in her body—her shoulders dropping, her jaw unclenching, her giggle coming a little easier. The way she leaned into me wasn’t as cautious anymore. Like she was letting herself breathe again.

“Man…” Wave said, rubbing his stomach with exaggerated drama. “This rich nigga crib done made me hungry. Zoe, you cook?”

Zoe blinked like she wasn’t expecting to get pulled into the conversation so directly.

“Uh… not really.”

“Not really?” Oshon tilted his head, grinning. “What that mean? Like… you cook a little bit? Or not at all?”

She shrugged, giving them that guilty smile. “I mean… I can heat things up. Frozen meals. Meal prep stuff. But mostly… I order out.”

Wani threw his head back like she just crushed his soul. “Damn… so no homemade mac and cheese in our future?”

I rolled my eyes and cut him a glare. “Man, don’t ask her no shit like that?—”

Before I could finish, Wani cut his eyes at me, wearing that sly grin that only I could translate. The kind of look that came with years of inside jokes and unspoken conversations.

The grin cracked wider. I couldn’t help it—I laughed too.

“You a bitch for real,” Wani said, pointing at me, his whole chest shaking with laughter.

“Nah, folks… she not cooking you shit,” I shot back, side-eyeing him, while Zoe just sat there caught in the crossfire like… what the hell is happening right now?

“Nigga, she ain’t cooking you shit either!” Wani doubled over, laughing harder, like the punchline finally landed. “She can’t cook!”

That set the room off. Wave damn near fell off the couch. Oshon slapped his leg like somebody told the best joke he’d heard all year. Even Kensei let out one of his rare, low chuckles, still shaking his head like he was above the foolishness but entertained nonetheless.

Zoe nudged me, squinting at all of us. “Wow. Y’all are wild.”

I glanced down at her, mouth twitching at the corners. She didn’t know what to make of this version of me—loud, unfiltered, laughing like I ain’t had a care in the world. She was used to the quieter me. The one who watched more than I spoke. The one who laid low and kept shit close to the chest.

But this? This was the me that only existed around them. The one who laughed too loud and cussed too much and let my brothers clown me without fighting back too hard.

I could tell Zoe was surprised by it. Curious even. But she wasn’t uncomfortable. Not anymore.

She leaned into my side again, warmer now. More at ease.

Slowly but surely, she was learning the language.

Conversation bounced around like a basketball on cracked pavement, the way it always did with us—topics shifting every few minutes with no warning. Music. Old street stories. Food. Arguments about the best sneakers out. Zoe stayed mostly quiet, but when she did chime in, she slid right into the flow. Sharp. Funny. Unbothered.

When the topic swung back to food, Oshon stretched out like he was trying to take up more space. “I’on care what y’all say… we gotta eat. I’m not tryna starve while this nigga plays lover-boy and forgets to feed the rest of us.”

“On my mama—that donut ain’t do shit,” Wave added, patting his stomach like he was in pain. “And I’on want none of that rabbit-food shit either. I want grease.”

I grabbed my phone off the charger. “What y’all want? Pizza? Chicken? Chinese?”

“Nah,” Wani cut in, waving a dismissive hand. “Let Zoe decide. She got the most experience ordering takeout.”

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