Romeo and I underestimated how busy our favorite place to get hot cocoa would be. It seemed to be everyone's favorite spot that night. Wylde Beans was a cafe that served coffee and freshly baked pastries year round. But during the winter months, they brought out their hot chocolate menu.

For only two months a year, they served everything from regular hot chocolate to cocoa bombs. They had a million different cocoa recipes--vegan, spicy, alcoholic. Our favorite was the peanut butter one. It was topped with a Reese Cup. Romeo always let me have his.

Christmas songs played overhead even though it was nearly February and the entire place smelled like cinnamon. In a few days, the faux-frost covered windows and paper snowflakes dangling from the ceiling would be replaced with red and pink hearts. I was going to miss this winter wonderland.

"We should've used the drive-thru," Romeo complained as we slowly inched forward in line.

"We walked here."

"We could still go back and get your mom's car," he suggested, fully serious.

"And lose our spots in line? No, thank you." There were only five people ahead of us. Since we've been in line, about five more people hopped in line behind us. "Besides, my mom doesn't trust your driving."

"You could drive."

"Without a license?" I knew how to drive. I'd never tell my mom because she'd have a heart attack, but I learned with Indy's help over the summer. If I didn't need her signature to get a license, I'd have one by now.

Romeo shrugged. "I won't tell."

Forget a heart attack. If I got arrested for driving with the added bonus of not having a license, my mom would simply drop dead. Then she'd haunt me the rest of my life, making sure I never did anything like that again.

"We're almost there," I told him, patting his shoulder.

Someone behind us wasn't as patient, grumbling about the staff needing to get it together and threatening to walk out. An employee who was running around busing tables stopped to assure the person that everyone was working as quickly as they could.

My head whipped around at the familiar voice. Sure enough, it was Andre Walker. His biceps bulging under the black shirt he wore under a Wylde Beans apron. He did a double take when he passed us on his way back to the employee only area. He couldn't stop, but he did flash me a cute, perfect smile.

When did he start working there?

Outside of World History, that was the first time we interacted since lunch last week. Indy's "friends or lovers" question popped back into my head. I still didn't have an answer. By the time we put in our orders and found seats, I'd worked my stomach into knots thinking about what I wanted with Andre.

I was over thinking it again. Or maybe I was using him as a distraction from what really bothered me: my mom and the Raider's sweatshirt. She never brought up my dad. Ever. How would I even approach the subject?

"You know the straw isn't edible, right?" My gaze snapped up to Romeo, who sat across from me. He'd already finished most of his drink. His Reese Cup sat on a napkin between us, waiting for me to take it.

I pulled away from my now chewed-up straw, trying to laugh it off. "Anything is edible if you don't choke."

His brows creased. "That doesn't...what's wrong?"

"My brain hurts," I confessed, hiding my face in my hands. After taking a few breaths, I shook it off. "What'd your brother do this time?"

I didn't want to talk about my daddy issues with him. Not yet.

His eyes narrowed, probably debating if he should let the subject change slide or not. Thankfully, he did. "His friends are over. They took over my Xbox and tried to make me their errand boy. I'm supposed to be picking up hot wings right now."

He laughed, but like that day we made pizza, it sounded off. Knowing his brother, Romeo was probably worried about what was waiting for him when he got home without the food. I really hated Rashad.

"See, you were supposed to laugh," he said, sliding his cup across the table from hand to hand. "And your brain was supposed to hurt less. But I think I made it worse."

I took a sip of my now lukewarm cocoa. "Have you talked to your dad about this?"

"About your brain pain? No, it hasn't come up."

"Romeo!"

He sighed, leaning back in his seat. "I tried. He said it was what brothers did. Then he told me about the shit his brothers did to him. He told me they tied him to a tree once and left him there for hours."

I blinked. That had to be made up. "And he thinks that's okay?" Romeo shrugged in a now-you-know-what-I'm-dealing-with kind of way. "That's--Well, they didn't have internet back then. That was probably their only source of entertainment. But your brother has options. He could become an internet troll instead of a real life one."

He fought to keep his face straight. "How old do you think our parents are? Because I'm positive they had internet."

He told me stories his mom told him about internet chat rooms and sites called Blackplanet and MySpace. I pointed out that our parents were in their twenties then, so it didn't count. We argued back and forth about how advanced the internet was before we were born.

When Romeo pulled out his phone to show me the music his parents always listened to, we fell down a rabbit hole of videos about pop culture in the early 2000s.

"You two still here?"

I tore my eyes from the music video Romeo was showing me of a song by someone named Chingy that his mom was obsessed with in 2006, to find Andre standing there.

He still had on his black tee, but the Wylde Beans apron was gone, replaced with a backpack that was slung over his shoulder.

Wylde Beans was packed when we sat down, but now it was almost empty. The sky outside the windows was pitch black. How long had we been there?

Romeo checked the time on his phone before I had time to get mine from my purse. He cursed under his breath as he put his phone away. "I'm going to miss the last bus."

"I could drop you off," Andre offered, then turned to me. "Both of you."

My mom would hate if I got into a car with someone she didn't know. But I didn't want Romeo to have to face his brother alone. So, before Romeo could object, I accepted the offer.

Andre's car was a mess of empty sport drink bottles and protein bar wrappers. He looked embarrassed as he cleared some wrappers off the passenger seat for me, tossing the trash into a nearby bin.

"Sorry about the mess," he said after we were all in the car.

"If my mom wasn't a neat freak, my room would look exactly like this," I told him. "Except with soda cans and chip bags."

"I can confirm," Romeo quipped from the backseat. "Remember that time you woke up and had ants in your bed because of the cookies you hid under your pillow?"

I turned to narrow my eyes at him. "No, I don't. And neither do you because it never happened."

My glaring wasn't very effective, because he kept going. "I'll never forget you screaming and hopping in the shower fully clothed."

The two boys chuckled at my expense and I was fighting to keep from laughing myself.

"That never happened," I said defiantly as I faced forward, crossing my arms over my chest. "But if it did happen, it would've been a very traumatizing."

They were full on laughing as Andre pulled out of the Wylde Beans parking lot.

"Where am I going?" Andre asked when he sobered up.

"Daya lives around the corner," Romeo started, but I cut him off.

"Actually, I want to come with you to drop off Romeo." It was a long shot, but maybe if he wasn't alone, Rashad wouldn't mess with him. "I mean, if that's not out of the way?"

"Not a problem," he assured me. "I live closer to you. So, I'd have to come back this way, anyway."

Romeo knew what I was up to immediately, catching my eye in the rearview mirror. "That's not necessary--"

"Wait. Romeo?" Andre interrupted, brows raised in question.

Romeo groaned dramatically. A laugh bubbled out of me. "Yeah, as you can tell, he loves the nickname." He made a louder, more distressed sounding noise that only made me smile wider.

"I don't," he said. "I really, really don't."

I turned to Andre, grinning. "See, he loves it."

He chuckled, focusing back on the road. "You two are...something."

We arrived at Romeo's house in a matter of minutes, listening to Andre's music. It was a surprising mix of rap and K-pop. He skipped over the K-pop, claiming he shared his Spotify account with his sister. I didn't believe it, but I allowed it to slide.

"You don't have to get out." Rome all but slammed the car door shut when I tried to open it. He smiled like he was just being friendly, for Andre's sake, but his eyes were begging me to stay in the car.

"I have to pee." I tried to push the door open, but he was stronger than he looked.

"No, you don't."

"You don't know my bladder!" I gave the door a push with the little upper body strength I had.

Romeo jumped back before it did any damage to him. "Fine."

I ducked my head to Andre's level after I got out of the car. His light eyes seemed confused. The crease between his brows deepened when I said, "You come, too."

"To the bathroom with you?" He asked slowly.

"No!" That sounded so bad. "Just inside. It's a bad neighborhood."

"Really?" He was already exiting the car, glancing around the quiet street.

"Yes," I said at the same time Romeo told him, "No."

I smacked Romeo's arm. "Remember, someone was shot at the gas station down the street?"

Romeo simply shook his head at me and pulled his keys from his back pocket as he headed to the door. As soon as he got it unlocked, and stepped inside, Rashad had him in a headlock. "Where my chicken at?"

"Leave him alone!" I demanded.

To my surprise, he actually stopped and released Romeo. "Oh, so you been out with your girlfriend all night?" He said, a sleazy grin on his face. "I might have to let this one pass."

"I'm not his girlfriend," I told him, unsure of where the boldness came from. Maybe because there was a literal linebacker behind me. "But I can see how that'd be confusing for someone who's never had one."

Rashad laughed his obnoxious laugh, slapping his brother on the back. "Your girlfriend's funny." He kept laughing as he threw himself down on the couch, sneakers grinding into the cushions I've taken naps on before. Ew.

"You know where the bathrooms at," Romeo said to me, as headed down the hall. To Andre, he said, "Thanks for the ride."

In hindsight, I probably should've left Andre in the car. Romeo didn't need another set of eyes to witness how his brother treated him. I glanced back at Andre, then down the hall Romeo just went down, and then at Rashad, who was yelling at Alexa to play some movie on the tv.

Did I leave with Andre or go check on Romeo first? Leaving Andre exposed to the vermin on the couch wasn't ideal, but if Rashad tried anything, I was sure Andre could handle himself.

"I'll be right back," I told Andre, before going to find Romeo.

His room was right across from the bathroom. I turned on the light and shut the door, just in case, before stepping into Romeo's dungeon. I called it that, because he liked to keep it dark. Thick blackout curtains covered the windows. The only light was from a strip of LED lights that lined the ceiling, glowing in a dim green.

Romeo was sitting on his bed, pulling off his shoes. I closed the door, leaning against it. "Are you okay?"

"Your curfews in, like, twenty minutes."

"Stop trying to change the subject." I walked over, sitting next to him on the bed. "I think you should lock your door tonight. And every night that he is sleeping under this roof."

He let out a dry laugh. "Do you think he'll try to smother me in my sleep?"

"Probably. I don't know," I admitted. "I'm scared for you."

"It's not that serious." He probably didn't notice his hand went to his neck as he said that. It was that serious. Rashad's headlocks weren't friendly. It was like he was intentionally trying to hurt his brother.

"When will it be serious? When you're laying up in a hospital."

He laughed that joyless laugh again. "You sound exactly like your mom right now."

I loved my mom, but being compared to her in that sense didn't sit right with me. She worried about the smallest things. I had to use safety scissors long after it was required because she thought I'd cut myself. Her worries were extreme and unwarranted. Rashad was an actual threat.

One thing I liked about Romeo was his ability to find humor in any situation. How he let things roll off his back. But this wasn't the time to be cavalier.

The other night, I had a nightmare about the time he came over with a bloody nose because his brother "accidentally" elbowed him in the face over a grilled cheese sandwich.

But it was clear Romeo wasn't going to drop his brave act for me. Instead of pushing any further, I hugged him. "Call me if he tries anything," I told him as he hugged me back. "I don't care what time it is."

He pulled out of the hug, holding me by the shoulders as he met my eyes. "I'll be fine. Now go home before your mom sends out a search team."

If I didn't believe my mom would actually do something like that, I would've stayed a little longer. "Call me," I said in my best threatening voice as I opened the door.

A slimy finger was in my ear before my eyes even adjusted to the bright hallway. I let out a shriek, flinching away from Rashad. "You're disgusting!" I wiped my ear on my shoulder while he howled with laughter.

"You okay?" Andre stood at the end of the hall, his eyes darting from me to Rashad to Romeo, who stood in the doorway of his room staring daggers at his brother.

Rashad was still laughing as he went into the room next to Romeo's and slammed the door.

"Yeah, we should go." I needed a shower...or ten.

"Actually," Andre started. "I have to go to the bathroom. You can wait in the car, though." He handed me his keys. "There's wipes in the glove compartment."

I couldn't get out of that house fast enough. My ear still felt disgustingly wet as I slid into the passenger seat of Andre's car. The wipes were right where he said they'd be. Watermelon and cucumber scented facial wipes.

When Andre came out a few minutes later, I was still wiping my ear even though the wipe had gone dry.

He noticed as he got into the driver's seat and started the car. "Still not clean?"

"It'll never be clean," I said, forcing myself to stop with the wipe. "Do I really need both ears? Maybe I'll go van Gogh and cut it off."

He seemed to consider it for a moment. "But earrings are sold in pairs. What are you going to do with extras?"

I smiled. "Good point. But my ears aren't even pierced."

"Wait. Really?" He did a double take as he pulled out of the driveway.

"Nope." I said, tugging at my hole-less ear lobes. "My mom's convinced the people who do ear piercings don't change their needles and that I'll get an infection and die."

"That's..."

"Extreme," I filled in for him. "I know."

We sat in a comfortable silence as he waited to merge into traffic on the main street. Then he asked, "Are you and Jerome together?"

The question seemed to come out of left field, but after Rashad called me Romeo's girlfriend, twice, I guessed it made sense.

"Obviously, it's none of my business and you don't have to answer. I was just curious. Nosey. My mom tells me that all the time. I'm always asking too many questions and minding other people's business. I think it's because I have a thing about being left out--" He paused, glancing at me sheepishly. "Sorry."

I fought to keep my face straight. I'd be lying if I said his nervous ramblings weren't cute. Or that I didn't feel some sort of way, knowing I'd somehow made him nervous.

"We're not together," I told him, folding the dry wipe into a small square on my thigh. I wished I could do that with my feelings for Romeo. Fold them up and tuck them away for good. "Just friends."

I caught his shoulders relax in my peripheral. "And that guy was his brother?"

"Yeah."

"You looked like you wanted to kick his ass."

"If my biceps looked like yours, I would've done it by now." I said before I could stop myself. My cheeks burned.

Andre laughed. Ugh. I loved his laugh. "I can teach you some boxing moves with you want. There's a class I teach at the rec center. It's for kids under thirteen, but I might be able to fit you in."

He couldn't spring a stuff on me like that. I needed at least twenty-four hours and a consult with Indy and Nia before I could decide on an answer. My palms were suddenly sweaty.

How would Indy play this? I thought as I wiped my hands on my jeans. She'd be nonchalant. Not saying yes or no. Giving a lukewarm reply and leaving the guy to wonder if he'll ever see her again or not.

I swallowed, trying to get rid of my dry mouth, and channeled my inner Indigo Laurie. "I might have to check that out."

He smiled and nodded. I allowed myself to unclench. That wasn't so hard. But it was suddenly very hot in that car.

"So, are you done with the butterfly yet?"

The mild flirting might've almost killed me, but art? Art I could talk about without worrying about pit stains. "No, I'm still trying to find the perfect style."

For the rest of the ride, we talked about butterflies, trying to narrow a specific species to focus on. He offered to sketch some of his own ideas to hopefully inspire me.

I was so caught up in the conversation and how talking to Andre Walker was just as easy as talking to LaterTofu, that I forgot to tell him not to drop me off right in front of the house.

My mom opened the front door as soon as Andre put the car in park. She was nothing but a silhouette in the doorway, but I knew she was pissed.

I had to get out of that car quick, but I also didn't want Andre to think I was weird. I'd already messed up and told him about how my overprotective mother didn't let me get my ears pierced. He didn't need to know about how she felt when I got in cars with people she didn't know or trust.

"Thanks for the ride," I said, opening the door.

"Wait." I glanced at my mom. Her arms were crossed. There wasn't time to wait. But I did because he asked.

Andre fished a pen and a sticky notepad from his glove compartment. After scribbling on the lavender paper in a bright green pen, he handed it to me. mumbling something about also sharing the car with his sister.

It was a number. His number. I had Andre Walker's phone number. If I wasn't going to die from my mom's hands, it was going to be because of this pastel sticky note.

"Text me what you have so far," he said, referring to the butterflies. I nodded quickly and climbed out of the car.

The heat of my mom's anger radiated from her as I slipped into the house. Yeah, I wasn't texting Andre, or anyone, anything soon.