Page 48 of Grace

I shook my head. “I don’t. No time soon anyway.”

Things got quiet for a while. Still reeling from what took place in the bathroom, silence was an incredibly uncomfortable place. Then it dawned on me. “Are you having second thoughts about what happened in there? Did I gross you out?”

My mother used to tell me I didn’t think things through when excited.

“I told you nothing about your body can gross me out.”

“I’ve never done that before.”

There was a break in time before he replied, “A’ight.”

“I mean. I’ve only had one one-night stand. It sucked,” I snorted. Jas didn’t respond and I kept talking. “He was sloppy and nervous and—it was just awful. It was then that I told myself, no more of those. Just because a guy looks good or is tall doesn’t mean there’s chemistry.” Still nothing. “It was nothing like with you. I mean…” I laughed. “I don’t think Austin and I got a rhythm for months, you know? Because I can’t vibe with just anybody. That first one-night stand experience taught me how valuable—”

“You think I’m judging you?”

My eyes rolled to the right of me where he lay, though my sight couldn’t reach him. “Are you—I mean—I hope—”

“Witherspoon, I just realized from fuckin’ with you that most of the sex I’ve had wasn’t much more than one-night stands,” his voice low as though thinking while speaking.

“Don’t forget Samona.”

“You won’t let me.”

I snickered. “I’m just saying.”

“There was this one chick before Samona. She used to stop by my mom’s crib at night…bring indo,Mysticdrinks, and snacks. We smoked a blunt, did our thing, and ate snacks while watching TV, but that was it.”

“Damn. You let her pay for the weed and the food?”

The mattress vibrated when he snorted. “Nah. I used to hit shortie off with like two, three bills almost every time.”

“And how long did that last?”

“Maybe like…a year and a half, on and off.”

“That’s sad. What happened?”

“I ‘on’t know,” his delivery was low and throaty, unlike the usual, and I loved it. “I think I moved over here to Jersey with my pops or something. I remember my moms telling me she kept coming over asking about me. Then, a few years later, I stopped to fill up the tank with Samona in the ride and I saw her walking past with a big belly, pushing a stroller.”

“I guess she got a new smoking and bang partner.” I laughed.

“Yeah,” he exhaled soberly. “Good thing she did. I ain’t know what I was doing back then.”

“Do you know now?” I asked softly, suddenly feeling timid.

“I’m older, more mentally and emotionallysettled—”

“I mean here, with me. You want to get married, have kids, and go off to some spiritual convent in Jerusalem when your parole is up—”

“Don’t play,Wither—”

“I know, I’m being silly. I’m evading my own stupidity. Do you know what you’re doing here with me?”

We were on our backs, half clothed, necks twisted to face each other. Jas shook his head. “No clue.”

“Me either.” Looking ahead, I swallowed. “I just don’t want a world where it’s appropriate for you to call me Witherspoon.”

“You told me last Sunday I had to call you that.”

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