I hate how just objectively sexy my baby daddy is.
They settle onto the couches opposite of me, with Sahara’s friend on Shaddy’s other side. But Sahara is none the wiser, taking her phone out and filming herself all on Shad while he pours his champagne down her throat.
Loud ass weed envelopes my senses and before I know it YC’s big ass head is laying on my lap in the middle of the booty club. I glance down at him, watching him take a wing from my platter before focusing on Shaddy.
Who is staring right at us, jaw clenching. I arch my brow because he can’t be serious. He can’t possibly feel a way when there’s two bitches on him.
Without taking his eyes off me, he leans over and whispers something in Sahara’s ear. Then he lifts the bottle and begins pouring even more champagne into her mouth.
Something’s making my butt vibrate, and YC digs in my back pocket like a weirdo to hand me my phone.
“Why are you all over me and not enjoying yourself?” I ask as I ignore Brandon’s call.
“I’m only here to watch over y’all. And eat these wings.” He sits up and takes my whole platter from the end table by me and really starts digging in. When I reach for them, he turns his back to me, growling like a pit bull.
My phone starts up again, and I roll my eyes. I told this nigga about blowing my line down when I don’t answer. Especially because he was invited, but that big ego of his made him write a check he doesn’t wanna cash.
Being a nigga’s first bad bitch is exhausting.
“I’ll be back,” I grumble, before standing up and ambling toward a hallway. At the end, there’s stairs going both up and down. Self-preservation has me going upstairs, telling myself an attic is better than a dungeon.
The hall is dark, with lightbulbs hanging above different doors. The first two are red, signalling they’re taken. But the lightbulb above the third door isn’t lit, so I open that door, just as my phone stops vibrating.
I close the door behind me and take in the room. There’s a pole in the middle of the room, with a booth seat surrounding it on the wall farthest from me. There’s clouds that glow on the wall, bathed in blacklight that turned on automatically when I opened the door to come inside.
I sigh and take a seat on the edge of the booth. I don’t know how I thought I would act when Shaddy would eventually turn up, but this, ducking and dodging him; it’s not me. I should be cursing him out. I should be shooting out his knee cap.
I should be making him promise not to leave us again.
“Tighten the fuck up, Mace,” I berate myself aloud, planting my face in my hands.
The soft creak of the door has me lifting my head, and when hennessy eyes meet mine, my breath hitches.
Shaddy comes in all the way, closing the door and locking it behind him.
We stare at each other for I don’t know how long. Enough for the muted R&B that started playing once he locked the door to drown out. Enough for my phone to vibrate against my lap four times.
“You gonna get that?” he asks when it starts up for the fifth time. His voice, deeper, gravelly from performing all night, stirs something within me I can’t name.
I turn off my phone and place it on the pole platform.
He licks his lips. “Am I gonna have to body yo godbrother, Mace?”
Oh. What he’s stirring up is rage.
I hop up so fast I fight to not get dizzy. “Nigga–” I raise my fist but at the last second he grabs my wrist, twisting us so that my back is on the door and his chest is pressed against mine.
“I told you stop grouping me in with yo hoes, Mace. That getting physical shit doesn’t work with me. Now answer my question.”
“You crazy as fuck threatening one of the Triplets, specially over me.”
He’s not scowling. He’s not smirking. His face is impressively blank, even down to his hooded eyes as they dance around my face.
“You right, I am crazy as fuck. So act like you know and move accordingly. I don’t give a fuck who the nigga is to you, don’t be letting niggas touch what’s mine, bro.”
I bark out laughter. This nigga can’t be serious. Like at all. So I laugh at him like the clown he is, while subtly moving my leg so I can knee him at the right time.
“I think ya girl’s stank ass bbl fumes have gone to your head. I’mnot, nor have I ever been yours, my nigga. Now I let you claim Sadé–”
