She reached over and squeezed my hand. “I know so, but you gotta decide if you want to keep letting fear drive or if you’re ready to see where this ride takes you.”
I sighed, my chest tight with a mix of nerves and want. “You always know what to say.”
“That’s why you keep me around.” She flopped onto her back dramatically. “Oh, and speaking of rides, Calil invited me to a cookout today at his brother’s place, and you’re coming with me.”
I blinked. “I was already going because Calla invited me, so yeah, we was in that hoe regardless,” we laughed.
“Mm-hmm, theme’s Freaknik.” She smirked. “Which means I’m about to pull out my finest Daisy Dukes and a mesh top.”
I groaned, half-laughing, half-panicking. “Lord, give me strength.”
Because the thought of walking into a Caleb Black cookout, Freaknik themed, with James and Calla there, and this secret still burning on my skin?
I already knew this day was going to test every ounce of my composure.
By the time I was fully dressed, the room already smelled like Lena’s peach margaritas and the faint, earthy edge of the edible we split an hour ago to ease my nerves. The beat of Back That Azz Up blasted through her speaker, rattling her dresser drawers.
I caught my reflection in her full-length mirror and almost didn’t recognize myself.
The colorful Coogie-inspired set hugged me in all theright places. The long-sleeve crop top and high-waist shorts showing just enough skin to make me feel both daring and dangerous. My full breasts spilled out of my bikini top, real explicit, and the chain belt glittered against my hips with every little sway. My hair was stacked high in a throwback half-up, half-down pincurl ponytail. My makeup was on point: dark, glossy lips, lashes fluttering like sin, highlight catching the light just right, and, to top it off, I smelled fucking amazing as I sprayed on Carolina Herrera Very Good Girl Blush.
I tilted my head, laughing to myself. “Oh, I’m definitely somebody’s problem tonight.”
“You mean their problem,” Lena called from her vanity, applying liner with a steady hand even after two drinks. “James and Calla gone lose they damn minds when they see you in that.”
“Lena!” I grabbed a pillow and chucked it at her. She dodged, cackling.
“What? I’m just telling the truth.” She slid on a pair of gold bamboo hoops, admiring herself in the mirror. “Meanwhile, I look like I just stepped straight outta ’95, and I’m not mad at it.”
She spun around in her own spray-painted Freaknik tank dress, thick chains jangling around her neck, hair long and laid. Her lips were painted a glossy brown, making her grin even wider at how good she looked.
We clinked our margarita glasses, and she popped in the aux cord to switch the track. Before I Let Go poured out of the speakers, and we both yelled the first line like we were at a cookout already.
The edible was starting to creep in, warmth unfurling in my chest, turning everything a little funnier, a little slower,a little louder. I couldn’t stop giggling, couldn’t stop spinning in front of the mirror.
“Girl, look at this ass,” I said, turning to the side, hands on my hips.
“Look at it?” Lena scoffed. “I’m about to get it insured.”
I bent over laughing, tears threatening to ruin my liner.
But when the laughter died down, I caught myself in the mirror again, fingers grazing the edge of my top, and that nervous flutter in my stomach came back. “You really think I’m ready for this? Seeing them both again?”
Lena came up behind me, resting her chin on my shoulder. “Baby, you look like sex, confidence, and a lawsuit all wrapped up in one. They don’t stand a chance.”
Her words made me laugh, but they also soothed my anxiety, because deep down, I wasn’t just dressing up for a theme. I was walking into the lion’s den, into a fire I’d already let them light in me.
And tonight, I wasn’t planning on running.
The bass was thumping before we even hit the driveway, speakers rattling the block as old-school Uncle Luke blasted loud enough to make the neighbor’s dog bark. Cars lined up both sides of the street, and the air was thick with smoke—the smell of grilled ribs, jerk chicken, and just a little something more herbal.
Lena tugged my wrist as we walked up. “Breathe, girl. You look way too fucking good to be nervous, they should be nervous because you about to have them eating out your hand.”
Easy for her to say. I adjusted the chain belt on my shorts for the tenth time, the fabric hugging me tighter than Iremembered when I tried it on sober. My thighs already glowed from the oil I rubbed down, and every step made the chain at my hips jingle. With my hair piled high and lashes brushing the sky, I knew I wasn’t invisible and that was exactly what scared me.
The backyard opened up into a full-blown Freaknik. Fold-out chairs circled tables covered in red solo cups and aluminum pans. A slip-and-slide was laid across the grass, already slick with water, and people screaming as they flew down it. Women in neon bikinis and cutoff shorts danced against men in throwback jerseys, laughter and whistles spilling over the music.
And then I saw them.
