Page 7 of A Little Kissing Between Friends

The man in the booth gave the “OK” signal and pulled the headphones from around his neck, hooking them on a stand next to the stool before coming out of the booth.

“We good?” he asked Poppa as soon as he was on our side of the booth.

“Yeah, man.” Poppa pointed to me. “Hitta, this is my ace boon, Jucee. Jucee, this is Hitta.”

“Nice to meet you,” I responded, dipping my head in acknowledgement.

“You too.” Squinting, he eyed me. “Say, do I know you from somewhere?”

Furrowing my brows, I looked from him to Poppa, but she only shrugged. Taking a step back, I looked him up and down. Hitta was a rapper whose music I’d heard in the club before, but as far as I knew, we’d never met. His light brown eyes and tawny skin didn’t ring any bells in my memory, and I didn’t fuck enough men to get them confused, so it definitely wasn’t that.

Echoing Poppa’s movement, I shrugged. “I don’t know, do you?”

“Wait!” His jaw dropped, eyes lighting with recognition. “You dance at Sanity?”

A proud smile came across my face. I nodded. “Yeah, I do.”

His eyes widened in shock as if he didn’t expect me to say yes, even though he clearly recognized me. He brought his fist to his mouth.

“Oh, snap! Bae!”

I watched as he stepped over to the sofa and grabbed the hand of one of the sitting women who’d been watching our interaction—or maybe just me—closely. Pulling the woman to her feet, he turned back to me.

“This is my wife, Sigie, and her sister, Sheri. Sigie is a huge fan of yours. We’ve been in the city for two days, but all she can talk about is getting to see you dance. I tried to take her last night but...” He trailed off with another shrug.

“Jucee doesn’t usually dance on the weekends,” Poppa offered.

Sigie’s caramel skin flushed red as she elbowed Hitta in the ribs. She gave me a sheepish grin.

“I told him that you only danced nights the last weekend of the month, but he don’t listen unless you’re talking music.”

Hitta gave his wife a scandalized look. “I listen well enough to know she’s ya bestie in ya head.”

When Sigie gasped and shoved him away from her, I laughed.

“Oh, please! I showed you a picture from her Instagram. You saw ass and agreed to whatever I asked.”

Another shrug from Hitta. “Shit...” He met eyes with Poppa and grinned. “What can I say?”

Poppa cracked up. “I get it.”

I nodded. “I do have a great ass.”

Sigie eyed me. “Among other things.”

Poppa’s eyebrows shot up. I met her gaze and tried not to bust out laughing at the silly look on her face. I was very familiar with the tone Sigie’s voice had taken on. At least once a week, it came from a woman who thought she was straight and had come to the club with her boyfriend or husband, got handsy and adventurous, fueled by the dark lights and an abundance of liquor. I’d been propositioned by too many women to count with their men sitting right next to them.

Hitta just shook his head and laughed, clearly unfazed by his wife’s suggestive tone. He took one look at the containers I’d begun removing from the bag and grinned at Poppa.

“Oh, you finally ’bout to eat?” Turning to me, he pressed his palms together and held them up by his chest. “Aye, thank you so much! I tried to get her to take a break and eat with us when my wife brought in some pizza a couple of hours ago, but she wasn’t going.”

Swiveling my head toward my friend, I narrowed my eyes at Poppa, who released an exasperated groan and shook her head.

“Oh,” I drawled. “So you didn’t forget to eat, you just chose not to? That’s how we livin’ now?”

Rolling her lips into her mouth, she stifled a laugh and wrapped her arms around me, pressing her face into my shoulder.

“Man. You know how it is when I’m in the zone.”