Chapter 6

The bus hummed and rattled beneath Freja as it wound its way through Baltimore’s early evening traffic. She leaned her forehead against the glass, watching the blur of houses, corner stores, and tree-lined streets flick past, but her mind wasn’t really on the view outside. It was still caught up in Malik.

Her lips tingled faintly, a lingering reminder of the kisses they had shared in the park, tucked away in that little pocket of privacy. She’d never gone so far on a first date before—never let things get that close, that fast. The memory of Malik’s hands, the way his touch had been confident but careful, made her cheeks warm all over again.

She didn’t regret it. That surprised her. If anything, she felt drawn toward him in a way she couldn’t quite explain. There was something about the way he smiled at her, how his eyes softened when he looked at her—as if he really saw her, not just some girl to flirt with. It was more than attraction, though that was certainly there. It was the sense of being wanted, openly, without guessing games or hidden intentions. Darius had left her guessing. Jason had crossed lines with no care at all about what she wanted. Malik ... Malik had been honest.

A sudden hiss of brakes startled her out of her reverie. She blinked, realizing with a jolt that the bus had just rolled past her stop. She shot upright, pressing the little yellow strip to request the next one, but it was already too late. The driver pulled over a few blocks down and the doors opened with a sigh.

“Great,” Freja muttered under her breath, stepping off.

She pulled out her phone, thumb hovering over the map app. The familiar blue dot spun and stuttered before finally centering on her location. The battery icon glowed a menacing red—three percent. Her stomach tightened. If it died, she’d be walking blind.

She started in what she thought was the right direction, glancing between the screen and the street signs. The houses here looked much the same as back near the Hayes’ place—rowhouses lined up in neat but weathered blocks, kids’ bikes leaned against stoops, music spilling faintly from open windows. Still, nothing looked immediately familiar.

“Yo, you lost?”

Freja froze. Three boys about her age were lounging near the corner, a basketball tucked under one arm. She must have looked more distressed than she realized, because all three were now watching her curiously. Her first instinct was to wave them off and keep walking. But the truth was, she was lost. And her phone had just dipped to two percent.

“I, uh ... missed my stop,” she admitted, forcing a smile. “Trying to get back to my street before this dies on me.” She held up her phone like evidence.

The tallest of the three—broad-shouldered, wearing a black hoodie with the hood half up—tilted his head. “Where you stayin’ at?”

Freja hesitated for a beat, then gave the name of the Hayes’ street.

“Pfft, that’s not far,” the boy said with a grin. “We can walk you.”

The other two chimed in with easy agreement. “Yeah, come on. You don’t wanna be wandering around with a dead phone.”

Freja studied their faces. Their smiles weren’t mocking; their tone wasn’t threatening. Just boys being ... well, boys. Playful, but sincere in their desire to help her. She took a breath and nodded. “Okay. Thanks.”

“Name’s Jamal,” the one in the hoodie added as they fell into step beside her. He jabbed a thumb toward the wiry boy, who was already bouncing a basketball off the uneven sidewalk. “That’s Tyrell. Don’t believe nothin’ he says.”

Tyrell grinned wide, gap-toothed and shameless. “Hater. He’s just jealous ‘cause I’m the most entertaining one.”