I slid into the sandals that Lyric had gotten me for our trip. The thick strap across the top was clear and the heel was achunky black one – a really nice addition. It was gorgeous. I slid on the gold watch that I had no idea was still in my suitcase before I packed for Channing. I’d discovered it while unpacking after we’d gotten to Lyric’s place. It was perfect for the night.
Just after seven thirty-five, I was descending the stairs and headed for the kitchen. I could hear the handling of glassware in the distance, which only meant one thing. Lyric had already beat me to her stash. When I stepped into the kitchen where she was, she was holding a glass out for me to grab.
“Let’s go. I made us a little something, something for the road.”
“Thanks. I was on my way to grab something myself.”
“You went with the romper. Good fucking decision, friend. Wow.”
Lyric circled me as she sipped the crimson colored concoction from her glass. She was stunning herself, dressed in black as well. She was wearing a pair of black denim with a black top to match, showing off her curves even though she’d probably tried to conceal them. Her brown skin was flawless with the full face, natural glam she’d applied.
“Yeah. I thought it fit my mood a bit more than the dress tonight. I’m feeling really chill.”
“Well, you look really fucking hot, so I wouldn’t say that much.”
“Shut up,” I sniggered.
“Stand back a little,” Lyric instructed as she held her phone up to snap a picture.
Putting on my poker face, I straightened my posture and positioned my drink so that my body wasn’t blocked in the shots. I’d disabled my Facebook and Instagram accounts, but Lyric’s impromptu shoot had me wanting to create a new Instagram page that I’d make private from the beginning so that I could screen everyone who requested a follow.
“You have to post this one,” Lyric squealed, rushing to show me the pictures she’d taken.
“I don’t have my Instagram account anymore, but I’m thinking about creating a new one tonight. One that doesn’t use my actual name, but something fun and witty.”
“Do that and make sure it’s private.”
“I love this one. Send them all to me.”
“I will.”
“You ready?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be. Keys right here.”
Lyric dug into her small Chanel crossbody and presented her keys. She was the most stylish person I knew. Everything about her wardrobe, I obsessed over. From the designer threads to the basics, she could pull off anything. She doubled as an accountant and a real estate agent. Her jobs paid well but after meeting her brothers, I understood that they probably paid better. There didn’t seem to be a thing that Lyric could ever want that they wouldn’t make possible.
After we were both out of the house, Lyric locked up, and we headed for the truck. I climbed in first with her sliding in right after. When I noticed the top was off, I thanked God for the bun that I’d decided on. It was only a ten-minute drive according to Lyric, but any other style, except my natural curls, wouldn’t have survived the wind.
“I’m happy you decided on a ponytail. I meant to tell you I took the top off when I got our bags out of the back.”
“It’s fine. I was just thinking the same thing.”
The Bluetooth connected as soon as Lyric started the engine. She didn’t back out of the driveway until she found the perfect song. I wasn’t mad at her for going with the Summer Walker album. There wasn’t a skip on it.
Hands swaying, lips moving, and vocals projecting, we made our way through Channing and to Oat + Olive. Word for word,I matched Summer’s energy on “Circus”. It was one of my favorites and one of the most underrated tracks on the entire album. I loved everything about it.
Three songs later, and we were pulling up to the busy spot to meet Lyric’s brothers. As we pulled up to the valet booth, my palms suddenly grew sweaty as my mouth began to produce an insane amount of saliva over and over. From one side of the parking lot to the other, my eyes darted, wondering where he was and if his eyes had found me before I could find him.
“Ever. Get out, babe,” Lyric beckoned for my attention while standing at the small booth.
I was so tied up with my discovery of seemingly nothing and no one that I hadn’t noticed she’d already exited the truck. I followed suit, stepping out and meeting her at the booth. Twice in under twenty seconds, I smoothed the front of my romper down to make sure that it was presentable.
“You ready, boo?” she asked after handing the attendant a twenty-dollar bill.
“Uh, yeah.” My words fought to surface as my chest tightened and limbs began to feel looser – almost too loose.
Please don’t let me fall, God,I silently prayed. Though I had complete control in the heels I had on, my legs felt like spaghetti noodles.
