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But my heart does a funny jump in my chest at the thought. Because he’s notjustanything, is he?

Storm Sandoval saved my life.

I may not remember all the details about the almost-attack, but I do know one thing for sure: Danger surrounds Storm, but with him, I feel safe.

Now, to not be proven foolish.

Pushing up from the bed, I move to my closet and dig through my limited selection of “grown-up” outfits. The ones Mama insists I keep for important moments—job interviews, church services, and apparently now, Sunday dinner withthe boy.

I choose a simple long-sleeved yellow floral dress. Not flashy, but still enough to say,I’m trying, but not too hard.

I shake my head and glance at the time. There’s over half an hour until he’s supposed to arrive, and something tells me Storm Sandoval will be punctual, despite our first meeting suggesting otherwise.

I rush through my shower but still carefully wrap my hair and secure it beneath two caps. I keep my head tilted away from the spray to save my previously straightened locks.

The thing that takes the longest is shaving every part of my body.

He’s coming to yourparents’house. What are you really gonna do with him at yourparents’house?

I turn the water to cold when a flash of heat shoots to my cooch, and a vision of Storm ravishing me against a wall pops into my brain.

Stop it, Shae. That’s never going to happen. It can’t.

I rush through the rest of my grooming and head back to my room, limiting my skincare to moisturizer, mascara, and a quick swipe of eyebrow tint.

After brushing my hair and smoothing on a swipe of lip gloss, I tilt my head, studying the girl staring back at me.

I look put together. Calm and serene.

Breathe in. Breathe out. This is fine, right?

The doorbell shatters my meditation, and it’s not a minute later before Mama’s voice floats up the stairs from the kitchen.

“Shae, your gentleman is here! Go get the door!”

Breathe in. Breathe out. This is fine. This is….

I can have tonight.

I’ll pretend Storm and I make sense, even though there’s no evidence to support that.

I’ll imagine the things that separate us don’t matter.

But in the morning, I’ll re-enter the real world—the reality that requires me to stay in my lane and Storm to stay in his.

But just for tonight, I’ll let myself believe I can have everything I want.

15

STORM

When the door opens, all the noise in my head quiets. The doubts, the tension in my shoulders from everything laid at my feet in the past seventy-two hours, fade away.

Because Shae’s standing there, looking like sunlight wrapped in yellow.

“Storm,” she says, my name soft and uncertain on her lips, and I realize I’m staring. Probably too long.

I search for the next right thing to say.