Yes he does!

The hum of the car engine filled the silence. You sat in the passenger seat, arms folded loosely over your chest, eyes fixed on the bags piled at your feet. All those clothes… tighter, brighter, shorter than anything you’d worn before. The kind of clothes that practically begged for eyes on them.

You shifted in your seat, tugging at the hem of your shirt like it could make you smaller.

Jamal glanced over, one eyebrow raised. His hand rested easy on the wheel, knuckles dark against the leather. “You’re quiet, Emile. What’s up?”

You shook your head quickly. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

He didn’t buy it. His grin curled, not unkind, but sharp, like he could see straight through you. “Nah. You ain’t fine. I can tell. What’s on your mind? Are you still thinking about the clothes?”

Heat rushed to your cheeks. You fumbled for the right words, staring out the window. “I just… I don’t know if I can wear this stuff. Not outside, at least. It’s too… revealing. Too tight. Everyone will stare at me.”

For a moment, the car was quiet except for the low thump of bass from the speakers. Then Jamal laughed softly, a deep, smooth sound that filled the space. “Emile, listen. People staring? That’s not a bad thing. That’s proof you look good. You think I wear most of what I wear ‘cause I wanna hide?”

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye. He looked relaxed, confident, like he carried the whole world on his shoulders without breaking a sweat.

“I don’t want people to laugh,” you muttered. “Or think I’m weird.”

“Nobody’s gonna laugh,” Jamal said firmly. “You don’t see yourself, bro. You got a body people wish they had. Thick in the right places, strong in the right places. That ass? Those thighs? That pale skin catching the light? Man, it’s a gift. And hiding it away in baggy shit? That’s the real waste.”

Your ears burned at his bluntness, but the way he said it… it didn’t sound mocking. It sounded sure. Like he meant every word.

“It'shard for me to think the way you do about it,” you admitted, your voice small.

“That’s ‘cause you been thinking like everybody else wants you to think. Safe. Small. But trust me, Emile, when you step out in those jeans, or those shorts, or hell, even those speedos, people ain’t gonna see weak. They’re gonna see confident. They’re gonna see a white boy who knows he looks good.”

Your stomach twisted with nerves, but something warm flickered there too, a little spark you couldn’t quite ignore. “The speedos…” you murmured. “I don’t know if I can wear those. That’s… a lot.”

Jamal chuckled, giving the wheel a lazy spin as he switched lanes. “Pool party comin’ up, remember? Everybody’s gonna be in swimwear. Ain’t no hiding behind shirts and baggy shorts. And you?” He glanced at you, his grin turning softer. “You were made for ‘em. You got the body, Emile. That bubble butt, those strong legs. Speedos were designed for white boys like you. You wear ‘em, and I promise you, every single person there is gonna be giving you compliments.”

Your chest tightened, your pulse skipping. “You really think so?”

“I know so, I know what my brothers are like.” Jamal’s voice dropped lower, steady, certain. “You think I’d lie to you about this? Come on. I’m telling you, man, when you step out at that pool party in those speedos, you’re gonna own the place. People’ll stare, yeah, but they’ll be staring ‘cause you look damn good. And you’ll feel it too. More confident than you ever thought you could be.”

The warmth in your stomach spread, tingling through your chest. You fiddled with the strap of one of the shopping bags, trying to swallow the lump in your throat. “I… guess it would be nice. To feel that way. To not be scared.”

“There you go,” Jamal said smoothly, his hand lifting from the wheel for a moment to clap your shoulder. His palm was warm, heavy, reassuring. “That’s the right mindset. Don’t think about what others might say. Think about how you feel. Think about walking in there knowing you’re the one they can’t stop looking at. That confidence? That’s power, Emile. And you deserve it.”

His words sank into you like sunlight, loosening something tight in your chest. You’d never thought of it that way, that maybe showing off wasn’t about being laughed at, but about being seen. About choosing to be seen.

“Thanks,” you said softly, finally daring to meet his eyes. “I… I’ll try.”

Jamal’s grin widened, satisfied. “That’s all I ask. Just try. You’ll see.”

For the rest of the drive, you stayed quiet, but not from nerves anymore. The warmth lingered, a little buzz under your skin, growing each time you replayed his words in your head. You told yourself it was just encouragement, just motivation. But deep down, you knew it felt like something more.

Something you couldn’t quite name yet.