Page 114 of Falling Into Gravity

She smirked because she had a type.

“Chin up,” Aku said, standing in front of him with her pins between her teeth and a tape measure slung across her shoulders. “You too tall to be lookin’ like you unsure of yourself.”

“I ain’t unsure of shit,” Devin mumbled, his eyes tracing the way she moved.

“Then act like it,” she said, yanking the front of his jacket to adjust the lay. “This your Grammy run, not your album cover. Look presidential, not like you ’bout to slide on somebody.”

He smirked. “You ain’t lost that mouth.”

“And you still ain’t got enough range to handle it,” she shot back, smirking.

Devin laughed, shaking his head. “That why you left?”

“I left ‘cause I got tired of beggin’ a nigga to finally grow up.”

Aretha’s voice bled through the space like a confession.

You know there ain’t no way for me to love you…if you won’t let me…

Devin sighed. “You ever think about us?”

“No,” Aku lied.

He knew her well enough to know when she was lying. He didn’t call her out though.

“You wanted a ring, a baby, a driveway. I ain’t have none of that to give.”

“You had options but, you chose to give me excuses.”

He looked her up and down—head to toe. Her jumpsuit fit every dip in her hip and the pressure on her little booty.

“You look happy though. You feel happy?”

She hesitated. “I’m tryna be.”

“That off your lil’ blue boy?” Devin asked, one brow raised. “What’s his name again?”

She didn’t answer.

“Crescent, right?” He nodded to himself. “Yea, I heard about him. Heard he keep that hoodie pulled low and his problems pulled closer.”

She glared. “That man got more heart than most of y’all industry niggas combined.” One thing she would never do is let anyone play with her man. Aku would fight in his honor, then tell him all about it knowing he was going to slide about it.

“So that’s what you on now? Street niggas with apps?” His finger popped the strap of her jumper since she removed the blazer she paired with it that made it more professional.

Aku stepped back, chin tilted. “That’s what I’m on—men with ambition and accountability.”

She pushed him in front of the mirror, pinning the hem of an olive-green tailored trouser. “I swear, if you miss the red carpet in this look, I’ll block you from every stylist in L.A.”

Devin smirked. “That a threat or a love letter?”

“Boy, shut up,” she laughed, half under her breath.

He looked good. Still had that magnetic pull—the kind that got girls in hotel rooms off one wink.

Devin’s jaw flexed. He still felt a lot for her and needed her to understand she’d always have a piece of his heart because he was madly in love with her. “You wasn’t asking for too much. I was just too selfish to give it.”

Her head bobbed, agreeing with him. She straightened the collar of his silk shirt, her fingers brushing his chest in a way that wasn’t sexual—but looked intimate if you walked in at the wrong time.

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