I
stare at him.
He
stares back at me. All six-feet-five of him. Denarius makes me feel short even
when we’re sitting down, and at five-five, I have a right to feel that way. I am
short, yet he elevates me with his care for me. With his constant
attention. He hypes me up when I’m feeling down. The encouragement is
unmatched, but at this point, it’s to be expected. Denarius Council has always
been a constant in my life, and we always see eye to eye, but his stare across
this table – it’s getting to me right now. My heart races a little. Breath
quickens. I’m not supposed to be feeling this type of energy with him. We’re
not the friends with benefits type. We don’t cross those boundaries. Not
us. We’re strictly friends – always have been and always will be. Nothing will
ever change that – not even the fleeting thoughts of what we could be if
we ever decided to cross that line.
My
eyes narrow at this silent game, like we’re trying to see who blinks first. I’m
not sure why our conversation stalled, but now we’re sitting here looking at
each other like we’re both at a loss for words.
He
started it.
He
asked me when I was going to let him take me on a date. Like really? I saw the
moment he shifted, laid back in his chair, and crossed his arms. He’s deeply
ruminative – that much I can tell. I suppose he’s reflecting on us. Our past.
Our present. Our connection to each other. On how two people could love each
other so much and remain friends for so many years. A lot of friendships crash
and burn long before they get to where we are. We’ve managed to crack the
friendship code.
“Denny?”
At
the sound of his name, he dons a handsome smile that settles in the corner of
his lips. He starts chewing slowly, seductively, his dark eyes fixed on me like
I’m the target and he’s the bow and arrow. He won’t miss. His lingering gaze
makes my face burn because his brooding, pensive eyes hide so much feeling. I
know this after knowing him for so many years. From when we were ‘knee high as
a duck’ so my grandmother says. Denarius is so much a part of my life, he may
as well be family. He knows all my people, and I know his. Warmth spreads over
me when I think about our dynamic.
I
lose this game of seeing who’ll blink or turn away first because I look away
from him to take a bite of this sandwich.
Gosh,
he’s handsome – my very well put together best friend – with his afro-kinky
curly, low-cut fade and creamy brown skin. He done messed around and grew an
impressive beard, too. My Denarius grew a freakin’ beard…
It
suits him so well. It’s black, rough, yet tamed, and highlights his lips and
his flawless skin.
People
around here often think he plays for the Christenbury Highlanders, because he’s
tall with an unbelievable athletic build. And it may be, too, because his
brother, Aureus, is a wide receiver for the Highlanders. He has another brother
named Quinarius, who’s a librarian, which is interesting in itself because the
man looks like he could bench-press a horse. But that’s them – the Council
brothers that all the women want around here – my homies. I always wondered why
The Councils decided to name their boys after Roman currency. I assumed it had
something to do with his father being a history professor at Monticello
University. I guess Mrs. Council had no input on what to name the babies she
carried for nine months.
Anyway,
for someone who eats like the end of the world is imminent, I don’t see how
Denarius keeps it so tight, but it is. Abs, thighs, buns…
I
choke. That’s what I get for thinking about his buns instead of the one
on my plate.
“You
okay?”
“Mmm…hmm…I’m…fine,”
I squeeze out between coughs. I take a sip of soda, and after clearing my
throat, I say, “Wow. That went down wrong.”
“Slow
down, E. We ain’t got nowhere to be. This is our chill day.”
“You’re
right,” I say, even though I know my choking had nothing to do with how fast I’m
drinking. What the heck am I doing thinking about Denarius’ buns?
* * *
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