Page 78 of Love's Free Will

"Yup."

He exhaled, slow as hell. “Nigga. Why would you do that?”

I sat back; arms crossed. “Cause I’m tired, Zay. Tired of chasing, tired of apologizin’. I told her how I felt. I stood there like a whole simp, heart on my sleeve, and she bounced like I was some random.”

“Youwerea random when y’all met,” he muttered. “You just turned into her problem.” I shot him a look. “I’m jokin’ nigga, lighten up,” he said holding his hands up. “But for real. You still love her.”

"And she still ain’t fuckin’ wit me,” I snapped. “Ain’t returned a single text. Didn’t evenlookat me the same when I ran into her last time.”

Zay leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "So, your plan is to show up with an IG prop and what? Make her jealous?" I didn’t answer. "She ain’t gon’ get jealous," he said. "She’s gon’ get mad. And when women get mad, they make decisions theydon’ttake back."

"I mean what the fuck am I supposed to do? I tried," I mumbled. "She didn’t want me."

"That ain’t an excuse to be petty. You gon’ keep claiming you a grown man, but still playing high school hallway games?"

“I ain’t playin’,” I muttered, jaw tightening. “She left me hanging. Now I’m done trying to chase her.”

Zay shook his head. “You not done. You hurt. Big difference.” Again, I didn’t respond. “Look, go if you want,” he sighed. “But don’t drag some chick into a room full of real ones just to flex. Especially not one that’snevergonna measure up to what you had. And you know it.”

Still, later that night, I hit shawty back.

Me: Pick you up at 5:30. Dress fly. No loud-ass colors.

TiffLuvv: Loud? Lmao I’m a fuckin’’ vibe, baby. You better keep up with ME.

I stared at the message. This wasn’t a vibe. This was ego talking. But my chest still burned with that backyard silence. Her tears. The way she turned her back on me like I was a mistake she didn’t want to make twice.

So yeah. Not only was I going to that game, but I was going to let her see I’m good. Even if it’s a lie.

20

AVERI

Iknew I shouldn’t have worn heels. My feet were already killing me, and the damn game hadn’t even started yet. But Egypt insisted we be dressed to the nines while we were on Facetime earlier today.

“It’s the season opener,” she’d said, applying her lip gloss like she was prepping for a red carpet. “We’re sitting in the luxury box. You can’t show up in sneakers like some freshman in community college.”

So, here I was—in 5 inch black Tom Ford stilettos, tight black pleather pants hugging my hips and thighs, a cropped white tee, and a black Tom Ford blazer that cost more than some people’s rent. Hair laid in a 20 inch buss down with a side part, edges tapped, lashes on lean and mean.

And for what?

To be surrounded by all my friends—who had the audacity to behappy—while I was trying to figure out why the hell Royal Teegan decided to bring the baddest IG baddie I’d ever seen to a game where he knew I’d be present. It was like watching your ex bring a Victoria’s Secret model to your family reunion. He knew what the hell he was doing.

From the second I walked into the luxury suite at Crypto Arena, I felt his presence. He was in the back, posted up by the bar in a black fitted tee and dark jeans, black and gold Jordan 1s, arms crossed, gold chain glinting under the lights. His hair was freshly cut, beard lined up against his plump pink lips, disrespectfully perfect, looking every bit of ‘that nigga’.

The girl on his arm—no, correction, the girl clinging to his arm—was Tiffany Love orTiffLuvvon social media, a whole internet-certified, FashionNova-sponsored, lace-front-snatched baddie with 1.3 million followers and a highlight reel of “take me back” vacations to Tulum. Her outfit was wild, a tight and short blue spaghetti strap bodycon dress that hugged her hips and showed off her little BBL. And to think, Royal broughther. Tothis. To a damn family function. The audacity.

Her attitude was smug. Her smile stretched a little too wide when our eyes locked, like she knew. Hell, of course she knew who I was; the whole world knew I was dealing with Royal once upon a time and thanks to Tea And Honey they knew too that we had recently ended things as well.

“Girl… stop lookin’ over there before you sprain your neck,” Egypt muttered under her breath, sipping a cranberry margarita.

“I’m not looking.”

She gave me a knowing look. “You are. And it’s fine. I would, too.”

“I cannot believe he broughther,” I hissed.

“I know.”

---