'Jules' mind went back under the moonlight and night air of Baldwin's Fine Arts Center Garden, where intense anger shifted into an intimate moment of curiosity with a blow of the wind.
Maybe two flames weren't supposed to be that close when raging...
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"Next time you see a brother down, stop and pick him up, cause you might be the next one stuck."
– Grand Puba, Mind Your Business
* the music provided in the media will be referenced later in this chapter for those who want to further escape into the scene of this book (this star will begin again when it is ready to be played).
THE night grew old as time passed on. Stars began to outshine flickering streetlights and the sounds of activity on the streets shrunk to a silent whistle of the wind.
Raheem found his feet leading him up the hill to the noisy Carver Hall. It wasn't that he didn't want to go inside. He just had that sluggish feeling after work where time got lost while you walked and the air seemed to carry you home. Students sat littered outside, some in groups, some in pairs, and some alone waiting for friends or lovers to meet before the cicadas' songs got too loud to ignore.
He drifted inside, the warm lighting leaving a yellow glow on his skin. Boys chattered, some about house parties that would break out in the weekend and some about the exhibit that was supposed to be the main event of tomorrow evening.
Rah could see it now, a plethora of students and flashing cameras from the university magazine's press team. He internally groaned at the thought of his social battery running low before he even hit the door.
The feeling that came with the excitement of getting ready for most parties on campus, and then losing the giddiness when he'd arrived on the front lawn.
He twisted the key into the knob of his dorm room, being met with a trail of steam coming from inside. No one was in the shower; he didn't hear the water running. This only meant one thing.
"Marcus, yo' are you using my steamer man -- without asking?" Raheem asked, yet it was abundantly clear as a shirtless Marcus in boxers was steaming a satin chartreuse suit.
"Damn man, why do you always have to bring that aggressive energy in with you? It looks like I'm gonna' be using all my blue sage on you."
"I told you to ask; I think that's fair."
"Man, I thought what's mine is yours and what's yours is --"
"Are we married?"
Marcus playfully put a hand on his chest and left his mouth open, "Well Raheem David McDaniels -- I never thought you'd ask!"
Rah cackled, "Look bruh, I love you, but this freeloading has got to end. It doesn't cost a thing to ask."
Marcus held his hands up in surrender, "Alright man, I'm sorry. You know this is the first time my work has been up in the exhibit -- I'm kinda' nervous."
