A dish of trust

Ji Ah smirked, sensing the slight shift in Lily's tone. "Don't worry. I won't bite. But you know, if he says yes…" She trailed off, letting the unspoken challenge linger in the air.

Lily sighed, her heart pounding in her chest. She had to keep things light, keep her emotions in check. But inside, there was a tug of jealousy, of protectiveness. Was Kemet just a mystery to everyone else? Or was he becoming more than that for her too?

Meanwhile, Kemet, oblivious to the tension brewing behind him, was still standing at the water's edge. His feet barely moved as he watched the waves crash, a serene expression on his face. But deep down, he was anything but calm. He couldn't quite place the emotions swirling inside him—freedom was a strange, unfamiliar feeling. And the more he was surrounded by these people, the more he realized how much of his past still haunted him.

Kemet turned slightly as Lily approached, her damp hair clinging to her shoulders, droplets of saltwater glinting like tiny crystals in the sun. She wore that same easy grin that always seemed to soften the noise around him.

"Thinking about the ocean?" she asked, teasing, her voice warm as the sand beneath their feet.

He nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving the horizon. "Yeah. It's beautiful… but I don't think I'll be going in anytime soon."

Lily lowered herself beside him, letting her hands sink into the cool grains. "Ji Ah thinks you're scared of the water," she said, smirking. "But I told her there's more to it than that. You're not afraid, right?"

Kemet chuckled, glancing down at his feet. "No. Just… I was never taught how to swim. Not where I come from."

Lily's smirk softened into something gentler—almost tender. "That's okay," she said. "You don't have to explain yourself. No one's perfect."

He looked at her then, surprised by her ease, the way she made space for silence, for honesty. She didn't push or pry. She just was—and somehow, that made it easier to breathe.

"By the way," she continued, her tone lowering slightly, "you don't have to impress anyone here. Not Ji Ah. Not Emma. Not even me. Just be yourself. People will like you for you."

Kemet met her forest green eyes, something unspoken passing between them. His voice was quiet, almost a whisper. "Thank you, Lily. You've been… kind. Comforting. Since I got here, I've been wondering if maybe I was going crazy."

Lily smiled, her expression thoughtful. "Oh, sweetie, we're all a little crazy. Sanity's just a word society made up so people could pretend they're not falling apart."

Kemet laughed, but there was a softness behind it, the kind that came from feeling seen.

The air around them shifted—thicker now, charged with something unspoken. Lily looked at him a moment too long, her smile lingering. And Kemet felt it—the quiet bloom of something dangerous and beautiful unfurling in his chest. Every time she was near, it stirred.

A silence settled between them. Not awkward. Not empty. It was full. Full of questions, of possibilities neither of them quite knew how to name.

Then Lily stood, brushing sand from her legs, her voice a little steadier than before. "Come on," she said, nodding toward the others. "Let's catch up before they eat all the good snacks."

Kemet rose, his movements slow, like he was afraid he'd lose something sacred if he stepped too quickly. But he followed her anyway, the warmth of her presence still lingering like sunlight on his skin.

Later, as they sat around a makeshift lunch spot by the water, Ji Ah stole glances at Kemet between bites of fruit and chips. She wasn't just curious now—she was suspicious. The way he moved, the way he watched the world, always careful, always calculated. There were no slip-ups, no cracks in his story—but that only made her more certain:

He was hiding something.

But what? A dark past? A lie? Or something stranger?

Meanwhile, Lily sat close to Emma and Ji Ah, laughing at some joke Riley made—but her eyes, when they met theirs, flickered with something deeper. A quiet plea. She didn't say it out loud, but it was there in the glance, in the tilt of her smile:

Please. Don't go after him. Not yet. Not like that.

And for now, because they were her friends—and because even Ji Ah wasn't completely heartless—they let it pass.

But the story wasn't over.

The sun had dipped below the horizon by the time Emma's convertible rolled back into the quiet suburb. The drive home was quieter than the ride to the beach—everyone a little sunburnt, a little salty, and a lot more thoughtful.

When they pulled up in front of Lily's house, Kemet and Lily stepped out first. Ji Ah waved from the backseat with a knowing smile, but Lily avoided her gaze. Emma honked once in farewell and drove off.

Lily stretched and let out a yawn. "Ugh, I'm wiped."

Kemet smiled faintly. "You should rest."

She unlocked the door and stepped inside, slipping off her sandals. "I think I will. But I'll come back down and make dinner in a bit—just in case my mom doesn't show."

Kemet nodded, unsure of what to do, but grateful for the stillness.

"I'll be up there," Lily said, gesturing toward the stairs. "Make yourself comfortable."

He watched her disappear up the steps, her bare feet soft against the wood. The house felt different without the buzz of voices—quieter, like it was holding its breath.

Kemet wandered into the living room and fumbled with the remote before managing to turn on the TV. A cooking show was mid-episode—a cheerful chef in a bright kitchen laughing and talking through the steps of a vibrant dish: Jollof rice with grilled chicken, garnished with fresh herbs and a splash of lemon. The host made it look easy—sautéing onions, folding in tomatoes, seasoning the rice with paprika, thyme, and a secret blend of spices.

Kemet sat forward, eyes locked. Every motion, every word etched itself into his mind like scripture. He had never seen food like this before. Not made like this. Not explained like a song.

He didn't mean to get up. Didn't plan to walk into the kitchen. But something about it all tugged at him—called him, like memory in reverse.

And before he knew it, the pots were clanging softly, the fridge was open, and the ingredients were spread across the countertop like puzzle pieces.

He worked silently, methodically. Chopped onions. Diced tomatoes. Heated oil with a confidence he didn't fully understand. When the chicken hit the pan, the sizzling sound filled the house with promise. The scent of roasted garlic, thyme, and pepper sauce lifted through the air like music.

Upstairs, Lily stirred.

The aroma crept beneath her door, warm and savory, and wrapped around her senses like a blanket. She blinked, stretched, and sniffed the air again.

No way.

She padded downstairs, still groggy, and froze at the kitchen threshold.

There he was—Kemet. Barefoot. Shirt slightly damp from the heat. Stirring a pot of vibrant red rice like he'd been doing it his whole life.

Her jaw dropped. "Wait… what… how…?"

He turned, startled but smiling. "You're awake."

Lily stepped inside, eyes wide. "Kemet… how did you even turn the stove on? And where did you learn to do all this?"

He looked almost shy. "The TV. I watched the cooking show. And memorized it all."

"You remembered?" she said, disbelieving. "You memorized all of this in… what? I've been asleep for—" she checked the clock "—one hour and seventeen minutes!"

"Yes," he said simply. "I remember almost everything I put my mind to. I didn't want to be useless. I thought—I could try something new."

Lily stared at him, torn between laughing and being completely floored. "Okay, Rainman. You memorized Jollof rice and grilled chicken from one episode?"

He nodded.

She leaned over the pot, inhaling deeply. "Well, if it tastes as good as it smells, I might actually cry."

Kemet gave a small laugh, stirring with care. "Then I hope it tastes even better."

Lily smiled—genuinely, deeply. The kitchen felt warm. Alive. And for the first time, she realized just how much he wanted to belong. Not just in the house—but in the world.

She stepped beside him, watching him work. "You're full of surprises, you know that?"

He looked at her, the light of the stove reflecting in his eyes. "I'm just learning," he said quietly. "And maybe… hoping."

"For what?" she asked.

He glanced down, then back at her. "That someone will stay long enough to see who I become."

Lily felt something stir in her chest. And she didn't know what it was—but it felt a lot like the beginning of something she wasn't ready to name .

Not yet.

Not by a long shot.