“Alright. I’ll see you in class tomorrow, Nuri,” Professor Sullivan said, then redirected his attention to his colleague.
Professor Muthafuckin’ Sullivan.Nuri shook her head and slightly bit down on her lip as she walked away. He was undoubtedly Blake University’s whisper. No wedding ring. No woman was ever seen with him, and he taught Psychology like he could see straight through you. Yet, he kept his private life locked in a vault somewhere no one had the key to. Nuri met his eyes the second he stepped through the door, and he never looked away.
Nuri and Bre slipped into a booth near the back—just close enough to the kitchen to smell the seafood coming out fresh.
“Can I get you ladies started with some drinks?” The waitress asked.
“Yes, we’ll take two palomas please,” Nuri quickly ordered their drinks.
As soon as the waitress turned to walk away, Bre leaned in with pettiness.
“Now I know damn well, he definitely felt that gotdamn look.”
“Oh my God, Brielle… What look?” Nuri played dumb.
“The one you just gave him before walking away. That look that saidyou want extra credit in ways HR don’t allow.”
Nuri cracked up laughing. “Shut the hell up… That’s why I can’t stand yo’ crazy ass.”
“Mhm… Don’t forget I know you better than the majority. Yo’ ass can’t fool me,” Bre told her. “Come on, let’s go get our food.”
Nuri cut her eye in Professor Sullivan’s direction once more, just long enough to catch Professor Sullivan doing the same.Their eyes met for half a second—long enough to say everything their lips never would.
Minutes later, Bre and Nuri made it back to their table with their plates.
“Looks like I’m right on time,” their waitress said, sitting their palomas’ on the table. “Can I get you ladies anything else?”
“Not at the moment, but thank you,” Nuri said, scooting her chair closer to the table.
“You saw the group chat, right?” Bre asked, sipping taking a sip from her glass.
“Mhm. You know our girls stay with the shits.” Nuri giggled.
“I tell you what… I’m not playing about this block party. We gotta come through in trueVetafashion, and we gotta shut that shit down. Nobody else deserves to shine on that stage with us.”
“Nah, for real though. We gotta go hard, or not at all,” Nuri agreed. “We gotta represent like never before… I feel like we need to sport our colors in a new way. Of course, Crimson and black will be our base colors, but we need something to make it pop.”
“Gold accents,” Bre said without missing a beat. “Jewelry, heels, and our makeup needs to be red and gold. We gotta have some gold eye shimmer… realgoddess but dangeroustype shit.”
“Yesss, sis.” Nuri agreed. “And I’m thinking we hit ‘em with custom-cropped jackets. Veta stitched across the back in black thread over crimson satin, gold trim, and line numbers stitched into the wrist.”
Bri’s mouth opened.
“Bitch, I could cry. That’s gone be hard as fuck. I love it!”
Nuri and Bre laughed so loud they made the couple across the aisle look over, but they didn’t give a damn.
“And we not inviting Zaria,” Nuri added, voice dipping into steel. “She still got me blocked, and I’m too damn grown tobe dealing with childish behavior. We’re in a good place, ain’t nobody got time to deal with all that toxic ass energy.”
“Facts,” Bre nodded. “She ain’t Veta no more. She’s Zaria the vagabond. Her crazy ass been floating between orgs like she lookin’ for her identity. Let her ass watch from the gate.”
“And theKamma Metas?”
Bre rolled her eyes so hard Nuri swore she heard it.
“They was cool until they started lowkey dissing the black community. I want us all to have a good time this year. They uninvited.”
“Say less,” Nuri smirked. “What about the step routine? I was thinking we could start slow motion, then boom… Let’s start it with something like Chris Brown’sPills & Automobiles,then flip the tempo with Kash Doll’sKash Commandmentsmid-performance for the first routine.”
