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Chapter 2: It may not be my business to pry

We only shared his bed at night, when we were both awake and scrolling through our phones. Sending the occasional TikTok with a message attached: this is so us or We should go here one day.

It's the sharp pain to my ass of him slapping it that makes me hiss. I asked him again if he was gay just for the fun of it. He gives me the finger before flashing his dick at me.

I'm big-time nosey when I went to Kario's IG page and scrolled through who he was following until I found the girl he showed me and Arjun. I'm careful not to like any of her pictures. 

Sonni girl, what's up with yooooou~ 

She's a mixed girl; Korean and Japanese. In her few posts, she expressed how she was learning to embrace her Korean side more. I found out through endless scrolling she is part of the Visual Arts department too, but she's a dance Major. God, her legs were to die for. She was short at 5 '1. In her IG caption, she said how short girls were far superior. Like okay girl, you can't even reach the top shelf, hush. 

And with Kairo almost being 6 '1. The size difference was crazy. He could easily lift her and throw her across a football. 

Doesn't look like she wears much makeup. Kairo loved girls who wore makeup. It's their freedom of expression, he said. But all I have is nightmares of my older sister when she started dabbling in makeup. She looked more like a fucking clown. Scared the hell out of me. 

I accidentally liked a picture when Kairo said something when he returned to his bedroom. I quickly closed my IG app and tucked my phone under the pillow.

"Did you hear me?" he asked, standing by his bed, his toothbrush hanging from his mouth.

"No what did you say?"

"I asked if you wanted something from the kitchen."

"Um, a bottle of water."

"That's it?"

"Yeah." 

Ding. My phone goes off. I pulled it from under the pillow when Kairo walked out of his room. It's a notification that Sonni has followed me. Then another ding after she liked a picture of me, Kairo, from the 10th grade of high school. When Kairo was just growing his hair out and I was starting my loc journey. 

Damn. We really grew our hair together. I wipe a fake tear from under my eye.

A water bottle hits me in my stomach. Kairo scratched his stomach going back into the bathroom to finish his nighttime routine. 

He's talking about something, but I'm not paying attention to what he's saying, just bits and pieces about a camera and something about a cat or maybe a car.

Music starts up from the bathroom Bluetooth speaker. Harry Styles Watermelon Sugar soaks into the bedroom.  Kairo dances out of the bathroom, swaying his sharp bony hips off-beat as he sings with Harry. 

Dance with me. The smile on his face says. Kairo doesn't wait for me. He pulled me by the arm, my body dragging out his bed. 

He swings me around. My feet lift off the floor— before touching the softness of the carpet.

So we dance to Harry till it's late into the night. I sing off key but if it was some Mariah Carey I'd be hitting them high notes like I was being held at gunpoint.

I'm brushing my teeth. Kairo is leaning on the door frame of the bathroom. I feel his eyes roll over me, taking in everything. My hands, my feet, my arms, the side of my face.