As if on cue, my phone lit up.
Zonnique.
I stared at it for a long second, jaw clenching.
Knox noticed the caller and smirked. “You gon’ answer that before she tracks yo’ location and pull up?”
I exhaled, snatched the phone from the table, and answered. “Yeah?”
“Yeah?You only answer the phone like that when you’re around another bitch!” Zonnique yelled, her voice sharp and accusing over the line.
“Then you should be flattered... it means you crossed my mind before she did,” I replied, trying to inject a bit of sarcasm and nonchalance into my tone.
There was a sharp inhale on the other end.
“And what’s all that noise?! Are you at a club?!”
“Nah, I’m at Bible study. The choir singing like they got a record deal, the pastor sweating through his suit, and ushers passing out Hennessy shots for communion. The whole place real spiritual tonight. You’d fit right in… everybody yelling for no damn reason.”
“Merge—”
“Look, Zonnique,” I cut her off, turning serious, “stop calling my damn phone like you the warden and I skipped roll call. You got my number, not my loyalty. And since you seem to keep forgetting, let me remind you again—you not my fuckin’ girl. I don’t owe you an explanation, an update, or a check-in every five damn minutes, so stop trying to keep tabs on me.”
I paused, already irritated that the conversation had lasted this long.
“You want something you can monitor all day, get a pet. I don’t do ownership. We cool when it’s convenient, but outside of that, stay in yo’ lane and stop acting like you got a position nobody gave you. Now, do me a favor and go be mad somewhere quiet. You sound a whole lot better on mute.”
With that, I ended the call.
Knox let out a low whistle, shaking his head with a half-grin. “Nigga, you really just told that woman to go be mad somewhere quiet. That’s a whole new level of disrespect.”
I took a slow sip of my drink, completely unbothered. “Disrespect is calling my phone like she’s my wife and catching an attitude because I left her on read or questioning where I’m at, who I’m with, when I’m coming home, and why I left the damn toilet seat up when she don’t even live with me.”
Knox chuckled. “You know… marriage just might humble yo’ ass.”
I leaned back in my seat. “Marriage gotta catch me first.”
His laughter grew louder, but I didn’t join him.
Being tied down to somebody was the last thing I wanted to discuss that night. On some real shit, I didn’t wanna talk about anything involving family, expectations, or business. I wanted silence, whiskey, and maybe something—or someone—tempting enough to help me forget everything waiting for me once the liquor wore off.
Thirty minutes later, I wassevendrinks in, feeling good as hell, and convinced the night still owed mesomething.I reclined in my seat, scanning the lounge like I was shopping for trouble and had an unlimited budget.
My eyes landed on a fine ass beautywhose body was basically a written invitation to fuck up my whole night.She was seated near the end of bar, engrossed in her phone. She appeared to be alone but far from lonely. And the way her thumbs moved across the phone screen let me know that she was either cussin’ somebody out in real time or typing the longest breakup text in human history. Either way, I was intrigued.
The DJ switched songs, and the crowd erupted even louder, but she might as well have been sitting alone in her living room. She never once looked up to scan the room or acknowledge the chaos unfolding around her. Whatever was happening on that phone had her so locked in that I was starting to feel sorry for whoever was on the receiving end of those messages.
I took another sip of my drink.
Yeah, she’s definitely the kind of woman who’d either ruin my night or make it unforgettable.
The dangerous part was not caring which one it turned out to be.
I watched her a little longer, while taking leisure sips of my drink.
She shifted in her seat, slowly uncrossing her legs before crossing them again. Every time she moved, that red dress crept a little higher, exposing more of those smooth, golden thighs. The neckline dipped low enough to give me a tempting glimpse of what was underneath while leaving just enough hidden to keep my imagination busy.
And my imagination was already doing way too much damn work.
