Page 26 of Certified Pressure 4
I laughed softly. “That’s because he’s spoiled already.”
Pressure looked over at me, still smiling. “He is, lowkey. Got both of us wrapped around his finger.”
I laughed again, shaking my head. “You worse than me.”
He smirked, his eyes still on the photo. “Can’t even lie, I am.”
We had barely been out the house for an hour, and we were already sitting here looking at pictures of our baby.
“Pathetic,” I said with a laugh.
Pressure nodded, still grinning. “Yeah, we bad.”
We pulled up to a lounge not far from the water. It was one of those places that looked laid back from the outside but felt exclusive once you got in. The music was good, the lights warm, and people were scattered around the parking lot in groups, talking, laughing, and drinking. As soon as we stepped out the car, the bouncer by the door looked up and froze for a second before a smile spread across his face.
“Pressure? Nigga, I’m glad to see you walkin’ around, bro. The city was talkin’. We was ready to ride about you.”
Pressure reached out his hand and dapped him up with that calm, cool smile. “Appreciate that, fam. I’m good now. Blessed to still be here.”
“Glad to hear it,” the bouncer said, nodding.
Pressure slid his arm around my waist as we walked inside. His hand was firm on my hip, and that simple touch made me feel safe. The DJ must’ve seen him the second we stepped in because his voice came through the speakers right away.
“Aye, hold up! Pressure Mensah in the buildin’! Trill-Land’s finest back outside, y’all!”
Everybody cheered. Some people turned their heads to look, some clapped, and others raised their drinks. It was wild seeing how much love people had for him. Pressure just smiled and lifted his chin once like he always did, like he was unbothered but appreciative.
“Free drinks for Pressure and his lady all night,” the DJ shouted, and that just made the crowd louder.
Pressure leaned close to my ear. “See what happen when I come outside?”
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t hide my smile. “Whatever.”
He laughed and led me toward the VIP section. It was dim, with plush seats and a glass table that radiated under the light. The air was full of smoke, perfume, and music that made the floor pulse.
Pressure looked good. He had on a black designer tee that hugged his chest and arms just right. His chains was sitting heavy and shining under the lights. His watch glistened every time he moved, and his rings caught the glow from the tables. His waves looked perfect, spinning so deep I could see them from across the room. He smelled good too, and his cologne wrapped around me every time he leaned close.
He sat back on the couch, pulled out some weed, and started breaking it down on a tray. Watching him do it was something about power and ease mixed together. He moved slow, calm and in his own world. When he finished, he rolled it up, licked it closed, and grabbed his lighter.
When he lit it, the flame danced for a second before the smoke rose. He leaned back with one arm stretched across the seat, and the other resting back on my thigh like he couldn’t help it. Then he leaned in and kissed the side of my neck, his lips soft and warm against mine.
“Pressure,” I said.
“What?” he mumbled against my neck before kissing me again.
“You know we can’t have sex until next week after I come from the doctor.”
He kissed my chin next, then my lips, slow and deep like we had all the time in the world. The room faded around us. It was just him, me, and the rhythm of our own thing. He looked in my eyes without responding to what I said. “I love you.”
My chest fluttered. “I love you too.”
The bartender came by with two glasses, setting them down with a grin. “Y’all drinks on the house.”
Pressure nodded, “Appreciate it.”
We clinked our glasses together, and I took a sip, letting the cold sweetness hit my tongue. Around us, people were laughing, dancing, talking, and living, but me and Pressure were in our own bubble.
Then I looked at him and started laughing again.
