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We flowed easy after that.

Stories. Tour chaos. A blown gig. Amir nearly choking on a fried pepper.

At one point, I caught Taraj watching me again.

And I smiled. Not to flirt. Not for show. But to say—I see you, too.

My foot brushed his under the table. I didn’t move. Neitherdid he. But the tension rolled through me like smoke curling under a closed door.

When the check came, I sat back and watched Amaya rest her head on Amir’s shoulder for a beat. Just a beat. But it was enough to make my chest tighten. Enough to remind me that what they had wasn’t staged.

And that maybe… I still wanted something real too.

We stepped outside into a velvet-slick night. The air was cool and clean, kissed with spring. Amir and Amaya walked ahead, fingers brushing, locked into their own quiet orbit.

“I like her,” I said, slipping my hands into my pockets. “Amaya. She’s got a calm about her.”

“She’s real,” Taraj said. “Always been that.”

I nodded, eyes still on them. “You ever want that?”

It came out low. Softer than I meant. But the question felt honest in my mouth.

Taraj didn’t rush the answer.

“Yes,” he said finally.

The word hung there, warm and open.

I turned toward him, fully now. My body angled before I told it to be. And something passed between us—electric.

He didn’t crowd me. Didn’t lean in with ego. Just looked at me, gaze steady and unreadable.

“I had a good time tonight,” I said. “Didn’t expect to.”

He didn’t answer right away. Just let the air sit.

Then, low, he said, “I knew you would. You needed the reminder.”

My brow lifted. “Reminder of what?”

He stepped closer.

Close enough that the front of my coat brushed his chest. Close enough for my pulse to rise.

“That it’s okay to want something real.”

I didn’t breathe. Not properly. Not until he looked at my mouth and then back into my eyes.

The hunger between us thickened. Not just lust. Butsomething knotted with curiosity. Recognition. A slow, aching draw. I didn’t step forward. But I didn’t move away either.

Not even when Dre opened the truck door behind me.

“Night, Raj,” I said, voice a little lower than before.

I slipped into the car, my body humming like it had been rewired.

And when I closed the door, I didn’t look back.