He Was My Ecstasy

He Was My Ecstasy chapter 4

Zuri's POV

Monday, 4:00 pm, the roof. "No uncles, no interruptions," Liam had said in the text. The wind was cold because Bulawayo winter doesn’t play. It bites through your sweater and sits in your bones. He was already there, leaning on the wall by the water tank, hoodie up, hands in his pockets, like he’d been waiting.

"You came," he said when he saw me.

"You told me to," I said.

I pulled my pink tracksuit tighter, the same one from the garage, and he noticed. His eyes flicked down, then back up to my face, fast.

We didn’t touch, not yet. We just stood there with two meters of cold air between us that felt like it was burning.

"How’s Aya?" I asked, and my voice sounded too loud.

"Good. She asked about you," he said. "Said, 'Don’t make her sad.'"

I almost smiled. "She’s 8 going on 80."

"Tell me about it," he said, and for a second his mouth did that crooked thing.

We talked about nothing: about calculus, about how quiet it was up here, with no people, no Mrs. Ndlovu, no Tino, just us and the city below us looking small. It felt safe. It felt dangerous. It felt like ecstasy you have to hide.

Then the door banged open, and the sound made me jump. Two Grade 12 boys, uniform shirts untucked, smokes in hand even though it was school property.

"Well, well," the taller one said, teeth yellow, "Look who it is: Mr. Basketball and the library girl."

Liam moved. Not toward them, toward me. He stepped in front of me, instant, like a wall.

"We’re studying," he said, low voice, the voice he used when he was done talking.

"Studying?" The other boy laughed. He had a scar over his eyebrow. "On the roof? With her?"

He looked past Liam’s shoulder, right at me, and his eyes dragged.

"Bad boy's new toy, huh?"

The air changed, and I felt it, like the temperature dropped 10 degrees. Something in Liam broke, and I didn’t even see his fist move. Next second, a c***k: fist to jaw, and the tall boy stumbled back, spitting.

"Don’t," Liam said, each word separate. "Talk. About. Her."

My hands went cold, and numbness was creeping back in, slow and familiar. Too loud. Too much. Too fast. This was why I stayed quiet, why I stayed small, because when people noticed you, this happened.

Footsteps on the stairs. Heavy. Fast. Angry.

"WHAT IS GOING ON UP HERE!" Dean.

Everyone froze, even the boy on the ground. Liam’s chest was heaving, and he turned. In one motion, he pulled me behind him. His hand found the back of my tracksuit and tugged me close.

"Sir," he said, calm, too calm, like he’d practiced this. "We were just studying. She was asking me about calculus. I was helping her."

Dean came through the door, tie loosened, face red. He looked at the two boys, at Liam’s scraped knuckles, at the cigarette on the ground, then at me, half-hidden behind Liam’s hoodie.

"Library is for studying, Mr. Dube," Dean said, voice flat.

"Yes, sir," Liam said, no flinch. "We just needed quiet for the test tomorrow."

A long pause, the kind that makes your ears ring. The other two boys looked like they were about to talk, but Liam squeezed my hand once behind his back. _Don’t._

"Detention," Dean said finally. "Both of you, tomorrow, 3 pm, my room."

He pointed at the other boys. "And you two, office, now. I’m calling your parents."

He left, and the door banged shut behind him. The echo stayed.

Silence, and my heart was in my throat. I could hear it.

Liam let go of my hand and turned to me, and his eyes did a quick scan: face, arms, like he was checking for damage.

"You okay?" he asked, soft now. The soft from the garage. The soft from Aya.

I nodded because I couldn’t speak. My throat was closed.

"You lied for me," I whispered.

He shrugged, one shoulder, that crooked smile again, but tired this time.

"I’d lie to the principal for you, Zuri."

He said my name like it meant something.

"We have detention," I said, dumb, obvious.

"Worth it," he said. Then he bumped my shoulder with his, just once.

"Come on, before we get another detention for loitering."

We walked downstairs, side by side, not touching. But my hand still felt warm where he’d held it.

In the hallway, people stared and whispered.

"Was that Dube?"

"Who’s the girl?"

"They were fighting."

I kept my eyes down because numbness and something else were fighting in my chest. Something warm.

Liam's POV

She didn’t say anything all the way to the gate, and I wanted to ask if she was scared, if I scared her. But the words felt too big.

At the gate, she stopped.

"Thanks," she said.

"For what?"

"For, you know."

"Lying?" I said.

"For choosing me."

I didn’t know what to do with that, so I did what I always did when things got too real: I joked, "Don’t get used to it. I’m a terrible influence."

She rolled her eyes. First time I’d seen her do that.

"See you at detention, study buddy."

She walked away, pink tracksuit disappearing into the winter.

I pulled out my phone.

Me: You home safe?

Me: And for the record.

Me: I meant it.

Three dots, then:

Zuri: Me too.

I stared at that text for the whole drive home. "Me too."

I was in trouble, and I didn’t even care.