Swinging her legs around to rest on the cushions, she bent her arms and propped her chin on her fists. “What does ‘start to bloom’ mean?”
I rubbed the center of my forehead. I’d done a hell of a lot of thinking about this since it was a pattern I’d been stuck in since I’d started liking girls.
“It changes, depending on the person and situation. Sometimes I get stupid and think I’m falling in love at basically first sight. I think I’ve grown out of that habit. The worst is when it’s almost a relationship, like with Kate. We were close, we started to bloom, but once we did, it all faded. My feelings for her, hers for me. She walked tonight, and I can’t even get it up to give a shit. I kept thinking I wanted her to go so I could bring you your sugar.”
“So, you faded before the bloom.” She tipped her head to the side. “I’m glad you’re not sad. I would try to feed you cookies to cheer you up, but we both know they’re terrible. You’d just get sadder.”
“How could I be sad around you?”
Her lids lowered. “Oh, a few of my exes might be able to explain that to you.”
Chuckling, I got up from her couch to roam around the living room. This was my first time setting foot in her apartment, which was a mirror image to mine. The setup, at least. Her decor was clean lines, with the occasional pop of pink or sparkles thrown in. Classy sparkles, but I didn’t have sparkles in my place, classy or otherwise, so they were foreign and incredibly girly to me.
A shelf lined with framed pictures caught my eye. I studied each one, stopping on a modeling shot of Baddie’s tight, round ass in a thong. It was an artsy, from-behind shot in black and white, but her long, long legs were unmistakable.
She came to stand beside me, leaning into my arm. “That’s my mom. Are you actually checking her out right now?”
“Your mom?” I tore my eyes away from her mother’s ass to see if she was shitting me. From the soft gaze she was giving the picture, I realized she wasn’t. “I thought it was you.”
She scoffed. “I wish.” She tapped the glass. “This was from a Sports Illustrated swimsuit shoot in the nineties. Tyra was the first Black woman on the cover the year before. My mom was the first Somali woman in those pages. Maybe it’s weird to have a picture of her butt on display, but—”
“It’s not.” I nodded toward the picture. “I’m not going to deny it’s hot, but it’s beautiful too. I see why you have it. Your mom broke ground. That’s something to be proud of.”
Her smile was slow this time, but she gave it to me. “I am. I’m very proud of my mom.” She picked up a picture from behind another one. A younger Baddie beamed out at me next to her mother. “I was eleven here. She went downhill pretty soon after this, so we don’t have many later pictures. Cervical cancer.”
I nodded, staring at the two of them. I recognized her mom, who’d gone by the singular name, Aminah. Most people would know her. Even now. She’d been everywhere in the nineties and early two-thousands, a muse to some big designers, but also on cosmetic commercials that ran incessantly. Baddie bore a strong resemblance to her, minus a few shades on her skin, and her eyes were hazel instead of deep brown. Otherwise, there was no mistaking they were mother and daughter.
“I’m sorry you lost her so young.” Even though it had been years since Aminah had passed, I had the urge to hold her and comfort her. I took a sideways step instead. “You didn’t want to follow in her footsteps?”
A curl had escaped her ponytail. She swatted it away from her face, only for it to fall back to the same spot. “I did, actually, but I quit a while ago.”
“Why?”
“I guess I started as a way to feel closer to my mom.” Her mouth twisted to the side. “All modeling did was make me insecure and turned me into aCandy Crushaddict during the long,longwait times.”
That surprised a laugh out of me. “Candy Crush? For real? Do people still play that?”
Her brow arched. “I am theCandy Crushchampion. I’m still hooked, so yes, people do.”
With a grin, I turned back to her frames. “Where are your modeling pics?”
“I’mnotshowing you those.”
“What the fuck? Am I not your friend? I don’t get to see you in model mode?”
“Nope.” She replaced the frame on the shelf. “Top secret. I saw you ogling my mom’s ass. I don’t want you doing the same to mine.”
“Are you saying there are pictures of your ass somewhere?”
She tapped her top lip, which always reminded me of a rainbow. Where most people’s dipped down, hers arched toward her nose. Rainbow fucking lips.
“I’m not saying anything.”
I took my phone from my pocket. “I’ll just Google you.”
A sharp laugh tore out of her. “You’d have to know my name to Google me.”
I started to laugh too, until I looked up from the screen to her serious expression. She turned her head, but I saw it. Insecurity. Her flippant comment hadn’t been so flippant after all.