The next morning, I stirred, the hazy remnants of sleep slowly fading as I blinked awake.
Soft light filtered through the blinds, casting a warm glow over the room.
I shifted slightly—only then realizing I wasn't alone.
Mari lay beside me, still deep in sleep, her breathing steady, her presence familiar in a way that made something settle in my chest.
Beyond the bedroom door, I could see Dayvon and Nevaeh sprawled out on the couch, tangled in blankets, knocked out from the night before.
The house was quiet, the echoes of last night lingering, but something about this moment felt different—like a pause before everything picked back up again.
I exhaled, stretching, letting the morning settle in. Afterwards
I grabbed my phone, squinting at the screen as I scrolled through my notifications—nine likes on my Instagram post.
One new follower.
I clicked on their profile, my brows furrowing slightly as their pictures loaded.
A ginger-haired woman.
Something about her felt *familiar*, a strange tug in my chest like I had seen her before.
Then it hit me—the woman screaming at Mari back at the park.
My fingers hesitated over the screen for a second, my mind replaying that chaotic moment, the way her voice had cut through the air, raw, furious.
But I brushed the thought off.
It could be anyone—just some random coincidence. Besides, I hadn't even gotten a proper look at her face back then.
I exhaled, shaking the weird tension from my chest as I kept scrolling through her page.
Still, something about it lingered.
I linger on her page for a moment, scrolling through her pictures, each one adding to the quiet intrigue settling in my chest.
She *is* attractive—undeniably so.
But that small voice in the back of my mind keeps poking at the coincidence, at the strange familiarity.
Still, I shake it off, pushing the thought aside.
At the end of the day, maybe it was just that—a random follow, a pretty face, nothing more.
I blink, staring at the notification list piling up on my screen.
*Every* post.
All 250 of them.
A slow chill creeps up my spine—not necessarily fear, but something unsettling, something that makes my pulse quicken just slightly.
That's *a lot* of attention.
I exhale, my thumb hovering over the screen, debating whether to click on her profile again.
Coincidence? Interest? Obsession?
Whatever it is, it's *deliberate*.
I glance over at Mari, still sprawled out beside me, unaware of the quiet realization clawing at my chest.
Something tells me this is only the beginning.
I glanced down at my phone, the screen lighting up with a new message.
*Lalia.*
A smirk tugged at my lips as I opened it, curiosity sparking in my chest.
Whatever she had to say, I knew it wasn't going to be just *casual*.
The night might've ended, but something told me Lalia wasn't done yet.
Hey beautiful, Are you still thinking about me! Lilia texts to me
I smirked, the confidence in her words practically dripping through the text.
After awhile texting Laila, I scroll back on the Unknown Ginger haired female who randomly followed my Instagram and liked all my pics,
I scroll through her profile again, this time taking in the details—really *looking*.
The backgrounds in her photos catch my attention—familiar streets, landmarks that feel close, almost *too* close.
A slow realization creeps in.
She might live near me.
I exhale, my thumb hesitating over the screen.
Coincidence? Interest? Something *else*?
The thought lingers, settling somewhere deep in my chest, refusing to fade.
Still, I brush it off—for now.
But something about this *doesn't* feel random.
--
A few minutes later, boredom settles in, and I turn my attention to Mari.
She's still asleep, her breathing steady, face relaxed.
I smirk slightly before nudging her, playful, testing.
"Mari," I murmur, poking her side lightly.
She groans in protest, shifting but not fully waking, her brows furrowing like she already knows I'm messing with her.
I glance over to the couch—Dayvon stirs, stretching lazily, his movements slow, groggy.
Nevaeh, still draped over him, doesn't move at all, fully knocked out, deep in sleep.
The morning is quiet, the air thick with leftover exhaustion from the night before.
But something about this moment feels easy—comfortable.
Like the calm before the next wave.
---
I leaned in close, my voice low, teasing.
"Wake up, Mari, or I'm gonna lick you."
The words barely left my lips before I saw her reaction—her lips parting slightly, teeth catching her bottom lip in a way that made my breath hitch.
I pulled back, surprised, caught off guard by the sudden shift.
Mari blinked, groggy but aware, her smirk slow, deliberate.
"What?" she murmured, voice thick with sleep, but there was amusement there—something unreadable flickering in her expression.
I swallowed, pretending like the moment hadn't just flipped on me entirely.
The morning was already starting off *interesting*.
"Ugh, nothing. I'm bored. Let's talk—at least *your* house is boring," I say, stretching out, my voice laced with playful frustration.
Mari laughs softly, shaking her head, amused but unbothered.
"You *always* complaining," she murmurs, her smirk growing as she shifts slightly, settling in more comfortably.
I roll my eyes but grin anyway, the easy back-and-forth filling the quiet morning air.
The night might've been wild, but this moment—the soft banter, the lingering exhaustion—felt familiar, felt *right*.
"What you wanna talk about, hm?" Mari asks, fully turning toward me, her head resting on her hands, eyes locked onto mine.
I glance away for a moment, then back at her, feeling the weight of her gaze—steady, unreadable.
Before I can answer, she shifts slightly, glancing over as movement stirs behind us.
Nevaeh stretches, blinking as she fully wakes up, her body still heavy with sleep.
Dayvon, unbothered, sits back, lazily rolling up a blunt, his focus elsewhere.
The morning air feels slow, thick with the leftover energy from the night before.
But Mari's gaze stays on me.
Waiting.
---
Mari's gaze lingers, slow, deliberate.
She looks at my lips first, then back to my eyes—watching me with something unreadable, something I don't even *catch* at first.
I shift slightly, the air between us thick with unspoken words.
"Hm." Her voice is light, teasing, like she knows something I don't.
I blink, still debating what to say, but the moment stretches—easy, charged, comfortable in a way I can't quite explain.
Nevaeh yawns loudly behind us, stretching fully, pulling the moment back into the present as Dayvon flicks the lighter, the blunt now in his hand.
But Mari's gaze?
Still on me.
---
Mari's smirk lingers, eyes still locked onto mine like she's waiting for more—like she knows *exactly* what she's doing.
"You don't know?" she repeats, voice teasing, slow.
I shift slightly, heat rising to my face, but I keep my expression neutral.
"I *just* said that," I mutter, brushing off whatever this moment is turning into.
She chuckles, shaking her head, finally breaking eye contact, but there's something about it—something deliberate, something lingering.
Whatever this is, it's *there*.
Even if I don't have the words for it yet.
---Mari's hand glides over my stomach—slow, unexpected.
I stiffen slightly, confusion flickering in my mind, but then a shiver runs through me, sharp, electric, in a *really* good way.
Before I can react, she pulls away just as quickly, smirking like she already knew exactly what she was doing.
"You're hungry, aren't you?" she teases, already moving to get out of bed, stretching lazily.
I watch her, still caught in that moment, my body buzzing with something I can't quite place.
She glances over her shoulder, eyes playful, unreadable.
"Come on," she says, voice light, disappearing toward the kitchen.
The moment lingers even after she's gone.
---
I step out of the bedroom, the soft hum of morning settling around us.
Nevaeh trails behind, her movements slow, still shaking off the last remnants of sleep.
Dayvon stays back, casually lounging as he takes a slow drag from his blunt, the scent curling through the air.
Mari moves ahead, effortless, like she owns every moment she walks into.
The energy shifts as we step into the kitchen—something lighter, something easy.
But my mind lingers.
On last night.
On this morning.
On *her*.
---
I sit at the bar counter watching her get stuff out the refrigerator to make breakfast I softly smile as I love my best friend cooking I glance at Nevaeh to see she's grabbing a bottle of cold water and drinking it as I watch them glance back at Mari
Y'all some beautiful black women, y'all know that,I say very happy and delightful and super flirty
Mari shakes her head, laughing softly, amused but clearly enjoying the compliment.
Nevaeh cracks up mid-sip, almost choking on her water before composing herself, still giggling as she wipes her mouth.
"You *so* extra," Nevaeh mutters, shaking her head, but there's warmth in her tone—she knows it's genuine.
Mari smirks, side-eyeing me as she grabs the eggs from the fridge. "You on your flirty wave this morning, huh?"
I shrug, grinning. "I mean… gotta appreciate y'all properly."
The kitchen hums with light energy—soft laughs, teasing smirks, the kind of easy, familiar comfort that makes mornings feel *good*.
Mari just chuckles, rolling her eyes before cracking an egg into the pan, letting the conversation settle into the sound of sizzling butter.
---
"You better stop, I have a boyfriend, you know," Nevaeh says, clearly playful, her tone light, teasing.
I smirk, leaning back slightly, unbothered. "*And*? Can't appreciate beauty?"
Before she can respond, Dayvon steps out of Mari's room, still smoking, his pace slow, relaxed as he moves toward us.
Nevaeh just grins, eyes flickering toward him for a split second before turning back to me, amusement dancing in her expression.
Mari chuckles, shaking her head as she flips the eggs in the pan. "You really just say whatever comes to mind, huh?"
I shrug, grinning. "Keeps life interesting."
---
A couple more minutes pass, the kitchen filled with the warm aroma of sizzling bacon and fresh pancakes.
Mari moves effortlessly, focused, sliding two pancakes onto my plate along with crispy bacon, sausages, and eggs.
I waste no time digging in, humming in delight as the first bite melts in my mouth.
She keeps cooking, her movements fluid, confident, and for some reason, I keep watching her—more than I realize.
I glance up, smiling softly.
"I'm glad I have you," I say, my voice easy, honest. "And your cooking? Always so good."
Mari pauses just for a second, then smirks, shaking her head like she's used to my compliments but still secretly enjoys them.
"Yeah, yeah," she mutters playfully, flipping another pancake. "Keep hyping me up."
And honestly? I will.
---
---
I set my phone down, focusing on my food, letting the warmth of breakfast settle in.
Nevaeh and Dayvon sit on the couch, eating quietly, the morning still carrying that easy, post-party exhaustion.
Then—*the doorbell rings.
Nobody moves.
Mari is still at the stove, flipping pancakes, clearly not planning on answering.
I sigh, pushing my chair back and making my way down the hall, the lazy energy still sticking to my movements.
When I open the door, my breath catches for just a second.
*Her.*
The ginger-haired woman. The same one who followed me on Instagram. The same one who liked *every* post.
She's standing right in front of me.
"Well, hello," she says, smooth, casual. "Name's Amber. I think I live next to you."
She pauses, smiling like this moment isn't *wild* to me.
"I'm inviting people to my party tomorrow," she adds, holding out a small card.
I blink, staring at her, confusion flickering through me—but I keep my expression neutral, trying to be polite.
"Uh… cool," I say, taking the invite hesitantly.
Amber's eyes linger on mine, like she's studying me—like this meeting *isn't* a coincidence at all.
And somehow, I know this isn't the last time I'll see her.
---
Amber smirks, holding eye contact with me the whole time—unwavering, deliberate.
From the kitchen, Mari's voice cuts through the moment.
"Who is it?" she calls out, still focused on cooking.
I glance back, my voice steady. "Yeah, hold on."
Turning back to Amber, I nod slightly. "Okay, thanks for the invite."
I start to shut the door halfway, ready to close this strange, unexpected interaction.
But before I can, her hand presses against the door—firm, stopping me cold.
I blink, my grip instinctively loosening as I open it again.
Amber tilts her head slightly, her smirk deepening.
"You sure you're gonna come to my party?"
Her tone is smooth, confident, like she already knows the answer before I even say it.
A strange energy lingers in the air—unspoken, heavy.
And for some reason, I don't move.
--
"Um… yeah, sure," I say, my words coming out slower than I expect.
Amber's smirk deepens, her gaze locked onto mine, steady, unwavering.
"Good. I'm glad."
Silence stretches between us, just for a moment—just enough to feel *something* heavy lingering in the air.
Then, Mari's voice cuts through, calling me from the kitchen.
I blink, snapping out of whatever moment I had just fallen into.
Quickly, I shut the door softly, my fingers lingering over the lock for a second before turning it.
I exhale, shaking off the odd energy as I make my way back down the hall, stepping back into the warmth of the kitchen.
Mari glances up from the stove, raising a brow at me.
And for some reason, I feel like I *should* say something.
But I don't.
Not yet.