Another Man's Treasure (Joey Bada$$ Story)

Part Tredici (Thirteen)

A/N: This is chapter thirteen, which you should read after Part Dodici (chapter twelve). Wattpad mixed up the chapters, sorry. 

We left.

I couldn't stay for a minute longer after what happened with Darius, and Latara was beginning to get fussy anyway. So we said goodbye to CJ and the rest of them, and took the bus all the way home.

Joey and I didn't speak much on the way home. He asked me if I wanted to stop and get something to eat, but I reminded him that we had food to cook in the fridge. That was all the conversation we had (I think when we got off the bus Joey's mind was far and I told him that the light was on 'Walk' for us to cross the street, but that doesn't really count as conversation). We reached his apartment and I put Latara to take a nap in the swathe we created next to Joey's bed. Then I came out into the living room to met Joey on the couch, shoes and hat still on, lighting a joint. I sighed and sat on the other couch.

"Are you okay?" I asked him. He didn't answer, just took a long pull from his joint and coughed a bit when he blew the smoke through his lips in perfect little circles.

"I'm fine." He replied bitterly. 'Fine' seemed to be the universal word for 'I have an attitude and I really don't want to talk about it'.

Since Joey clearly wasn't going to open up, I decided to do it for him. He didn't want to talk, but I did; I needed to get it off my chest, whether he was going to listen or not.

"I had a weird moment with Darius."

"Who?" He looked at me.

"I mean, Dyemond." I said. "In the living room, he told me his real name and called me a 'trustworthy girl'. I don't know if I'm taking it the wrong way, but he doesn't know me well enough to know whether or not I'm trustworthy. And the smile he said it with was kind of...flirty."

Joey just stared at me, so I continued: "We went to the bedroom after you guys started playing music. In there, he was flirty again. I don't know; the way he was acting and how close he was to me...it just came across that way to me. But please, don't be upset with him, or me. It might have been a complete misunderstanding. I just feel better letting you know instead of finding out for myself."

He kept smoking, his eyes growing more red by the minute. He put out his blunt on a lamp table next to the couch, no ashtray (it was then that I realized why there were so many dark burn spots on the table), and shrugged. "As much as I would prefer Dyemond to keep to himself, since he really doesn't know you like that and has never even asked me a question about you, I'm not mad. He's a flirt; he does that with everybody. Well, with girls, of course. He almost got into a fight with Dessy because Dessy thought he was after his girl, when really Dyemond was just being himself. He has a natural instinct to flirt, I guess. I won't overreact yet."

I took a long, relieved exhale. That's all I wanted to hear, that Joey was okay with it and he didn't plan on overreacting prematurely.

"Thank you for being rational." I told him.

"It's no big deal. And there's no reason for be to be irrational, anyway. You said it yourself - it could just be a misunderstanding. It's not like he got physical with you or anything."

I froze. It's not like he got physical with you or anything. Little did he know that Darius got more than physical with me, he put his lips on me. It wasn't exactly a mouth-to-mouth kiss, but it meant something. It was more than one of his friends just being a natural flirt, it was somebody actively trying to send a message. I just didn't know what that message was yet, and when I figured it out, I definitely didn't want Joey to know.

I walked over to Joey's couch, untied the laces of his sneakers, and pulled them off his feet. I didn't want him dwelling on the whole Darius situation, and it seemed like he had a jealous streak. I didn't want him getting any bad ideas. I pulled off his socks while he lit another joint and began to massage his feet. Joey lay his head back and smiled while he smoked, evidently enjoying the massage. I massaged his feet until his joint was done, and then massaged his head for another thirty minutes. It wasn't just to distract his thoughts - he deserved it. Just cooking for him wasn't good enough to clear my conscience. I would do little things like this for him every chance I got, even if it meant twice an hour. He had his own stress already, and adding me onto it was just multiplying that stress times three. I'd want something as simple as a massage if I were in his shoes.

I carried them, his shoes, into the hallway closet where he was supposed to keep them instead of tossing them about the apartment, and threw his socks in the hamper. I was about to take his vacuum from the closet to clean his rug when he came and stopped me.

"I can't let you do that," He said, taking the vacuum and putting it back in the closet.

"Why?"

"Because you don't have to."

"That sounds a lot like what I told you when you first offered for me to stay here with you." I said.

He laughed. "Touche. But seriously, don't. You already hooked up my feet for me."

"Fine," I sighed and closed the closet door. "You win."

"And don't try to sneak out the vacuum again when I walk away, because I don't want the noise. I'm going to take a nap."

"Me too," I yawned and headed for the longer couch. "Goodnight."

"No, come with me." He took my hand and led me to his bedroom, where Latara rested peacefully in the darkness.

"Thank you for this," I told him after he let me onto his bed. He got into it beside me.

"I told you I had a problem with being alone, remember?"

I did. I pulled the sheets over me, mindful to leave him more of them than I had, but he still allowed me more than half. I closed my eyes, relieved to be in this bed after such a long day, such a long time. This wasn't a full night's sleep, clearly, since Latara would wake up at eleven o'clock or so and be in need of breast milk or a changed diaper. But for now, for at least three hours, I would do what she did: sleep. Nothing on my mind, no responsibilities or insecurities, just plain ole' sleep.

I wasn't sure how long it had been since Joey and I were both asleep, but somehow during my slumber I felt his arms around my waist. Casually, loosely, they just rested there. He was still asleep - I could hear him snoring softly - but his half-embrace still comforted me, supported me. I pulled his arms tighter around me, which is something I wouldn't have been brave enough to do if I was fully awake. He responded by moving in closer, and so did I, and soon there was no space between us. Just me and him, engulfed in each other's warm hold.

Then I felt his breath right behind my ear, coming in and out in the same pattern that I inhaled and exhaled, and he whispered in a soft, dreamy, almost angelic voice: "I love you, Jamie."

It was harmless. It was completely harmless and beautiful and perfect; perfect for the timing, the setting, everything. So I moved in closer, even when there was still nowhere further to go, and said: "I love you too, Joey."

It was harmless.