Page 2 of Falling Into Gravity

“Ready to call the police or something,” she agreed before going over to adjust Zaire’s clothes. He smirked at her, but like earlier - Aku ignored him.

She wasn’t on the market—had stopped looking for love. So, Zaire’s handsome face did nothing to sway her back on the prowl.

After a few hours, the crew broke for lunch and scattered to eat under pop-up tents. Zaire

walked off to take a call, then waved her over. “Ayo, Aku. You mind grabbing something for me real quick?”

She raised a brow, cocking her head back. “From where?”

He flashed his phone. A sleek black app sat open on his screen. “Plugged In. It’s like a verified network. I don’t trust nobody else out here.”

She squinted skeptically. “Plugged In? That sounds like a burner app…some sex trafficking shit and I ain’t trying to be kidnapped, Z.”

Zaire laughed. “You so damn funny. But it’s solid. You can book services, buy plates, get recs—all kinds of shit. Hood Amazon. Everybody in Crescent uses it.”

“Including your rich ass?”

“Hell yeah. I just requested a quick drop. Key should be pulling up soon. I’m gonna send the QR code to your phone for him to scan. I paid already.”

She sucked her teeth, took his phone, and glanced at the order. “So let me get this straight, you’re makingmepick up your weed?”

“It’s for my back…and you look trustworthy.” Zaire’s lips curled, knowing he was full of shit.

“Trustworthy my ass. This is unpaid labor.”

He smiled that too-rich-for-his-own-good smile, and Aku rolled her eyes, but headed to the pickup point anyway, which wasn’t far from where they were currently standing.

She had just got to the corner by Weller Grocery when she heard it.

The low, guttural rumble of a four-wheeler pulling up slow, like it had nowhere to be, yet still moving with intention.

When she turned around. Her first thought was,Damnnnn.

He had the kind of face that didn’t ask for attention…it demanded it. Clean braids under a hat that barely sat on his head, smooth yellow skin and tattoos climbing up both arms like stories waiting to be told. Shirtless, wearing dark jeans, and a look that said he knew exactly what kind of trouble he was and didn’t feel bad about it.

He didn’t park. Just killed the engine and looked at her over the handlebars. “You Aku?”

All that shit about niggas walking around Crescent Park with no shirt on, went out the window. Aku never wanted to see this yellow-skinned man with a shirt on. His skin looked sun-kissed and the ink covering his body was designed to perfection. Even his straight back braids looked sexy, and she never really cared for niggas with hair.

It was clear Zaire had already given her name, like he was certain she would do him that favor.

“Who’s asking?” Her perfectly arched brow slanted.

He smirked. “I’m the drop.” His eyes swept over her body as his teeth sunk deeper into his lip.

She blinked. Then blinked again. “You selling weed…on a four-wheeler?”

He leaned forward a little. “And you buying weed in redRick Owensin the hood, so I guess we both a lil dramatic. Red ain’t yo’ color, try blue next time,” he added with a low glint in his eyes.

She couldn’t help but to snort. “I ain’t buying nothing. This is for Zaire. And don’t worry about my fashion choices.”

“Ahhh, the pro golfer with the perfect teeth and tight-ass pants.” Malik nodded, still eyeing her up and down, though his eyes didn’t linger like he was turned on. They fluttered over her body like he was remembering every little detail in case he needed to prove who he gave it to.

Malik swung off the bike in one smooth motion, blue Chucks hitting the pavement with a solid thud. He walked toward her slowly. His height met the sky—broad shoulders, long limbs, and a calmness in the way he moved, that made it hard to look away.

Aku straightened up without meaning to, suddenly aware of her own height in a way that felt… feminine…desired. She liked tall. Liked how it made her feel soft without shrinking.

Her eyes dropped. The dip of his abs showed the lines cutting deep into his waist. The sharp V disappearing beneath low-slungjeans. She swallowed. Hard. Heat spread through her like her body remembered something her mind hadn’t even lived yet.

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