“Together.” His cheeks push up under his eyes, which could outshine the starriest sky.

“Together,” I echo, my heart beating so loud when a patch of birds take flight, I’m convinced it’s my nerves that did it. I gulp, folding my hand more properly in his, taking the leap needling at me. He squeezes, holding on as if letting my fingers go would be the worst thing in the world. The way he clings to me makes me want to squeeze back… because… because…

I gaze up at the sky remembering the pain of losing my father. The way I loved him and yet he slipped from my fingers after it was too late. The way Bri broods over conversations she hasn’t had with her parents, her little brothers, and not knowing if, or rather, when, she will again. The way Titube might have not told her mother goodbye before she last saw her. Time ticks and I feel it on my very skin.

I squeeze Jhamal’s hand. Because somewhere deep down, I guess I want to believe I’m worth clinging to.

We walk for several minutes, the silence hanging between us, and the bone I haven’t picked with Jhamal prickles through my mind. Do I say something… right now? I chew my lip.

“You know I never got in your ass like I should have about you and Bati plotting behind my back to nominate me as Queen.”

He chuckles.

“I’m foreal,” I say, trying to keep the moment light, sweet.

“Jelani, it was meant with the utmost respect.”

“But you should have told me what you were thinking, right? In that cell, all those months, we kept nothing from each other. I told you about my Moms. Where I grew up. You told me about growing up in Yiyo. I thought we were better than that.”

“I knew if I told you, you would not like it.”

I let go of his fingers. “So, you do it anyway?”

He sighs. “I am sorry. That is what I should have said. I am sorry I did not tell you.”

“Thank you.” I cling to him again. If we’re going to do this, whatever this is, we have to be on the same page. “If you know anything about me, you know that’s not my lane. Like, not even close.”

“Forgive me, but I will always disagree.” It should be flattering but it’s more irritating. I get he sees it as a high honor, but every time he looks at me, I can see right through him—the crown he wishes was on my head.