When I made it to the first floor, I was on my way out. I had just told my guards to be on standby while I was gone. I didn’t even know where I was headed yet, probably just out for a ride to clear my head, maybe hit a club or two, but I knew I ain’t wanna be in this damn mansion tonight.
I was halfway to the door when I heard noise comin’ from the kitchen. I could hear cabinet doors openin’ and closin’, drawers slidin’ and somethin’ hittin’ the counter. It didn’t sound like the staff. Curiosity got the best of me, so I turned and headed that way.
When I walked in, I saw Zaniyah Starr. She was still in her dress from dinner, the soft fabric huggin’ her in the right places, her hair fallin’ over her shoulder. She was a little tipsy, but it wasn’t sloppy. She just had that loose, good-spirited vibe like she did when we was at the table. I couldn’t forget how she’d been laughin’ all night. In her hands she had a bag of chips, somecookies, a juice pouch, and a couple other snacks she’d clearly raided from the pantry.
She froze when she saw me, her big, bright eyes lockin’ on me like she hadn’t expected to get caught. Those eyes of hers always looked different from the rest, like they was enchanted, or belonged in some paintin’ or fairy tale.
I glanced at all the stuff in her hands and smirked. “Woman, you bet not have not nan peanut in your hand after what happened the other day.”
Her lips curved into a smile, and deep dimples appeared in her cheeks. “You got jokes,” she said, rollin’ her eyes in this playful way that didn’t feel like she was offended at all.
“Yeah, I got jokes,” I told her, steppin’ farther into the kitchen. “But don’t forget, I checked on you multiple times after that little episode.”
She set the snacks on the counter and looked back at me, still smilin’. “And I appreciate that. For real. Thank you.”
There was somethin’ about her tone that was genuine, soft and didn’t have no ego in it at all. Most of the women in the house had some edge to them, always playin’ for my attention and puttin’ on a performance. Zaniyah didn’t seem like she was tryin’ to prove anything right now. She was just… herself.
We ended up leanin’ against opposite counters, talkin’. At first it was light. We talked about the food from dinner, how she still didn’t trust the kitchen after the pistachio thing, jokes about how she had been “brought back to life” with her EpiPen. But then the conversation slid into real shit. Turns out she liked old school music the way I did, had a thing for certain cars, and even knew about a few underground spots in the city I used to hit before all the extra attention came with my name. She laughed easily, asked good questions, and when she listened, it felt like she actually cared about the answer.
For some reason, bein’ in the kitchen with her felt different than it did with the other women. She was beautiful—no question, but it wasn’t just her looks. It was her energy. Sweet but still bubbly enough to keep the vibe alive, gentle but not borin’. Around her, I didn’t feel like I had to be ‘Prince Pressure’, heir to the throne” or whatever title people liked to stick on me. I could just be me, and she still seemed to like what she saw.
Her eyes dropped to my keys in my hand. “Where are you headed?” she asked, then immediately shook her head. “Sorry, that’s none of my business. I shouldn’t be all in your plans.”
I smirked. “You good. I was probably gon’ take a ride, maybe hit a club or two.” I let my eyes slide down her, slow enough for her to notice. “Matter fact… since you still dressed and all in my business, you might as well grab ya heels and ride with me.”
Zaniyah’s smile deepened, her dimples showin’ again. “Give me two minutes,” she said, and started puttin’ all the snacks back in the cabinets and fridge. She moved quick but not rushed, like she was lowkey excited about goin’ but didn’t want to look like it.
I leaned against the counter watchin’ her, thinkin’ about how I hadn’t really given her much of my time since she’d been here, and maybe that was a mistake. She had a way of slippin’ under the radar without disappearin’ completely, and now I was wondering how many moments I’d missed with her.
Minutes later, I heard her heels clickin’ down the hallway as she came back, her hair smoothed, lipstick fresh and ready to go.
When she passed me, I caught that faint scent of her perfume. It was light and sweet but still grown.
We walked out together, and for the first time that day, I wasn’t thinkin’ about all the chaos in the house or the mess a nigga been dealin’ with. I was just thinkin’ this might be the start of me actually gettin’ to know Zaniyah Starr.
Drahma Town
While ridin’ through the city blowin’ loud, I looked to my right and saw Zaniyah’s pretty ass rappin’ word for word to some shit I ain’t even know she listened to. I’m talkin’ every bar, adlib, all that. She had her nails clickin’ on her thigh, eyes closed, hittin’ lil’ shoulder rolls like she was in a music video. I had to laugh.
“Nah… you don’t even look like you know that song,” I told her.
She peeked at me, smirkin’. “Boy, I know this whole mixtape. Don’t play with me.”
“A’ight, say less,” I said, turnin’ the volume up.
We pulled up to the club and the line wrapped damn near around the corner. I don’t do lines, so I walked straight up,duffel on my shoulder, and the bouncers already knew what it was. I ain’t get no pat down, no ‘what’s in the bag,’ no nothin’. I could’ve had a bomb in my shit and they would’ve waved me through.
As soon as we hit the inside, the bass was damn near knockin’ my heartbeat off rhythm. Lights was flashin’, and people was movin’ shoulder to shoulder. I spotted a few of my potnas and made my way over, dappin’ them up. Zaniyah was still right there with me, holdin’ my hand.
Then the promoter slid up grinnin’. “Pressure, you already know I got you.”
Next thing I know, we in a corner section with a big leather sectional that wrapped around like a horseshoe. The waitress came quick with a cold bottle of Don Julio, cranberry juice, and ice. I slid her a tip before she could even set the cups down.
Zaniyah ain’t even sit. She climbed up on the sofa in her heels, movin’ with the music like she been waitin’ for this shit all week. I poured us drinks, handed her one, and she tapped her cup against mine before takin’ a sip. Her dimples cut deep when she smiled down at me, and I couldn’t help but grin back.
She had this way of makin’ me forget I was supposed to be cool in public. Kashmere could get me laughin’, Pluto brought me that calm, Toni made me feel looked after… but Zaniyah? She had me on some playful shit. We was talkin’ trash back and forth between songs, hittin’ lil’ dances just to clown each other and laughin’ like we was kids. I couldn’t believe this damn girl had me at the club, dancin’ when that wasn’t even my style. At the same time, I liked it.
At one point she hit some move that didn’t even match the beat, and I shook my head, grabbed her hand, and kissed the back of it. When I told her she was dancin’ like one of them chicks off GTA, she laughed loud, throwin’ her head back, and I swear it made me laugh harder.
