Page 21 of Free to Fall

“C’mon,” he said, kissing my shoulder again. “Let’s shower before we get too comfortable.” It was too late for that. Still, I followed him into the bathroom. He ran a shower and when it was hot enough we stepped in, together. And by the time we stepped out—skin damp, hair wrapped, bodies warm and slow—I didn’t feel like leaving. But I knew I had to.

He threw on some joggers and a tee, and I got dressed in a pair of his basketball shorts, a t-shirt and some of his thick socks. He walked me to his car like it was routine now, like we’d done this a hundred times before.

Not long after, we pulled up in front of my house, and he turned the engine off. “You want me to come back later?” he asked, like it was casual. “Cause I kinda wanna come back later Baby.”

I turned to look at him. “Yeah… you should. And bring a bag.”

A smile tugged at his lips. “Bet.”

I bit back a smile and pushed open the door. “See you later.”

“Text me when you get inside,” he said, low before placing a quick kiss on my lips. I nodded then got out of the car walking to my front door, feeling slightly high, like everything in life was just better.

Once I was in the house, I leaned against the door for a second, still feeling the warmth of him on my skin. Then I pushed off the door, pulled out my phone, and hit up Averi.

Me: Pull up to the studio. I got something I need to get out.

The secondI stepped into the Aaliyah Booth at LA Records, the scent of sandalwood and citrus wrapped around me like an old friend.

The walls were lined with acoustic panels and inspiration: gold plaques, half-finished lyric sheets taped up on the cork board, a few polaroids of past sessions that Averi insisted we keep pinned. I’d asked Logan to keep this space as private as possible. Just me, Ave, and Terri engineering. No distractions.

Terri was already behind the board, glossy lips pursed as she checked levels and sipped on her matcha. She wore her usual all-black uniform—combat boots, ripped jeans, graphic tee of some obscure indie band she probably used to tour with.

“Back in boss bitch mode, huh?” she smirked, glancing at me over her frames. Her Bronx accent came out more when she was focused.

I smiled. “Something like that.”

Truthfully? I was still floating. The last twenty-four hours had felt like a slow spin in the sky. Nasseem’s laugh in my ear, his hands on my hips. The way we played like kids and touched like lovers. The way he made me feel seen even when I was trying hard not to be.

I pulled out my notebook and started scribbling down a few bars. I didn’t know what this song would be yet,but I knew I needed to write it while I still felt it.

Averi walked in ten minutes later, Starbucks in hand and her thick ponytail bouncing with every step. “You beat me here?” she asked, eyes wide. “What happened that you felt so inspired; you and Wall Street broke up already?”

I laughed softly. “It wasn’t even that serious.”

She dropped her bag and flopped into the seat beside me. “You look... annoyingly peaceful. That must’ve been one hell of a date.”

“It wasn’t.” I gave her a look. “It was actually terrible.”

“Oh.” Her brows lifted. “So, you just out here radiating ‘I had good dick’ because…?”

“Because someone else I’ve been seeing gave me a good weekend,” I admitted carefully. “It wasn’t Marcus. But the shitty date with him reminded me of what I actually want.”

Averi blinked. “So, wait, you’ve been seeing somebody else this whole time?”

“Kind of,” I said. “It’s complicated. Been on the fence about it for a while… but this weekend? It felt right, calming. Like, I could breathe around him.” I didn’t say more. Wasn’t ready to.

She studied me for a second, then nodded slowly. “Okay, as long as you good, E.”

I gave her a genuine smile. “I am.”

Terri pulled up the first instrumental—one I’d emailed earlier that morning. The beat was confident but slick, like it knew a secret. I pressed my fingers to the keys, and the lyrics poured out like the ones that had been trapped in my chest all weekend.

He don’t smile easy, but when he do it’s deadly

Low tone, deep eyes, touch that could wreck me

Told myself I’d play it cool

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