Page 6 of And Everything In Between (Love By Any Means #3)

After listening to both her parents tell her to live a little, something had shifted inside Paige. She’d spent the drive home with her windows down, letting the wind whip through her hair, thinking about her daddy’s words.

‘Go let some young fool look at you like the miracle you are.’

Paige stood naked in her bedroom, staring at her reflection.

Kamaiyah bumped through her speakers, the beat rolling thick through the air as she lit an incense, then the end of a leftover blunt.

The smoke laced itself into the air, her hips already moving to the rhythm.

The car shows tickets her mother had gifted her sat on her dresser.

It was time to be somebody other than everybody’s rock, for one night.

“Alright, bitch.” She spoke to her reflection, voice full of quiet conviction. Trouble was in the air and on her mind. She had one night. Paige laughed at herself for treating this like a fairytale. When the clock struck twelve, she’d go back to exhausted Paige. “Let’s see if you still got it.”

At the vanity, she flipped on her mirror lights and got to work.

She pulled her hair into a tight, high ponytail, curling pieces and giving the ends a ’90s flip.

Her bangs framed her face; edges laid with a smooth hand.

She was giving soft, hot girl chaos only a real one could pull off.

She misted her crown with spray and leaned back to look at herself.

Still pressure.

Kamaiyah kept rapping encouraging her and boosting her confidence as she sashayed around the room.

“I got a nigga goin’ down like I paid him for it,

and I shine so hard that you can’t ignore it...”

Paige sang along, ass rolling lazy, body loose as she moved through the room.

Anytime she’d catch her reflection she’d stop and smile. Paige was gorgeous with cinnamon toasted brown skin, large doe eyes, and pouty lips to match.

On the bed, she had faded cutoff shorts, frayed enough to show a little ass but not too much. She stepped into them slowly, dragging denim over thighs that had grown too used to staying closed. The shorts clung to her curves, brushing the tattoos on her thighs.

Next, a tiny white halter top stretched across her chest and tied behind her neck. The open back left no room for misunderstandings. The cropped shirt left her belly bare only showing the gold belly chains that adorned her midsection.

She layered gold bangles onto her wrists, slipped on her rings, toe rings flashing against fresh white sandals, a slim gold anklet glinting low. She slicked on lip gloss in two slow, perfect passes. With a click, she slid in her bottom row of open-faced golds. She admired herself in the mirror.

“A bitch still got it.” And she wasn’t lying.

She had gotten herself together for her own satisfaction.

She wasn't looking for validation from anyone.

But she was sure to catch somebodies eye today.

She was slowly emerging, hoping the night would bring nothing but good vibes, laughter, and who knew what else.

There would be no second-guessing. No turning back.

Wherever the night took her, is where she’d land.

She wouldn’t complain, grumble, she’d go with the flow.

The sun kissed her shoulders when she stepped outside, causing the body oil to gleam like crushed gold dust. Pedro, her neighbor, caught a glimpse and snapped his fingers so hard it echoed down the block.

“I know that ain’t who I think it is!” he hollered.

Paige laughed, one hand on her hip and the other playfully pointed at him.

“Pedro don’t play. You know how I come when I come with it.”

“I love this Adina Howard vibe! Girl, I might sneak through your window tuhhnight.”

She cocked her head. “So, you like cat now?”

They both burst out laughing, loud and carefree.

“Bring us back a treat, friend!” Pedro called after her. “Light skinned, faded, muscle-bound, and tatted. You got options tonight, make me proud!”

“I ain’t bringin’ back nothing but leftovers for me!” she hollered over her shoulder. “And he better be trickin’, too.”

“Rule #1!” Pedro shouted, blowing kisses as she slid into her car. Paige opened her sunroof, turned the music up and slipped on her shades before taking off.

The ride to the fairgrounds took a little over thirty minutes. The crowd was already thick when she pulled up, but Paige wasn’t worried about being solo. She never needed a crowd. A lot of her life had been the same, she kept a small group of loved ones. And she also kept a .380 in her purse.

The minute Paige stepped onto the fairgrounds; her mood shifted.

She inhaled the grilled meat and body heat.

She felt the old-school bass rolling from somewhere deep in the crowd.

Kids laughed as their parents chased after them.

Trap music spilled from custom trunks, giving the whole lot a heartbeat.

She smirked. Already glad she came and didn’t let the weekend pass her by.

Paige moved through the crowd with deliberate steps, unbothered and unbent, her skin glowing under the sun while gold bangles sang every time her arm brushed her hip. She wasn’t the flashiest, but heads still turned, anyway. Energy like hers didn’t go unnoticed.

Eyes trailed her, slow turns, quiet jabs, murmurs passed between homeboys, and whispers behind painted nails. She passed clusters of girls perched on hoods, men two-stepping beside their rides, old heads laughing over spades. This was it. This was the culture, loud, alive, and laced with joy.

She made it to the vendor area, ready to look at the custom cars, when a slow rumble grew at her side, a deeper bass that wasn’t coming from any of the speakers scattered through the lot.

She didn't turn to look at first. Instead, she slowed her steps and let the sound catch up to her. Someone wanted her attention. The engine purred as it accelerated, then purred again beside her, low enough that she could feel it rumbling in her ribcage, vibrating against the pulse in her wrist.

Curiosity finally got the best of her. Paige turned her head just enough to catch sight of the car, a red Monte Carlo with gold specks in the paint that sparkled under the sun. The tires gleamed with fresh spray; she could smell it.

She knew that feeling, those eyes on her, that presence.

She'd felt it before. It was Emon’s cousin, Giovanni with his fine ass.

Paige had spotted him in a crowd one too many times but understood she was in no position to entertain a man.

But she had certainly looked and enjoyed her view a time or two.

Giovanni was posted slouched in the driver’s seat, dark shades covered his eyes, plain watch glinting against tatted skin. He had one hand on the wheel, while the other tweaked the volume enough for Big K.R.I.T.’s “Temptation” to creep through the speakers.

And we ain’t trippin’ on the summer ‘cause the stars out.

Chrome wheels, candy paint, bring the broads out.

The beat hit. Her hips moved on reflex. Of course, that’s the song he chose.

His black V-neck T-shirt stretched across thick arms and a chest that looked like it bench-pressed problems for fun. He didn’t speak. Didn’t wave. Didn’t rush. Just tapped the brake and let the car roll to a stop right in front of her like she was the destination.

She watched him step out and steal the air from the area.

His movements were clean and slow. Telling the crowd, he had time today.

A few folks behind him grumbled at the hold-up.

He didn’t even blink. This was his show.

This was his shit. And when he turned back to look at the cars lined up behind him, everyone knew to proceed accordingly.

The crowd shifted and parted slightly; it knew this moment needed space. The universe itself understood it was about to bear witness.

He walked toward her, seizing her attention and possibly everyone else’s with his big slanted light brown eyes. A diamond stud caught the sun in his ear. Clean gold chains around his neck. Black onyx ring on his pinky. He looked like money.

Paige leaned back on her heels, removing the sunglasses adorning her eyes. She wanted to see the man with no filter. He was gorgeous, with light brown skin, smooth but marked with tattoos. And eyes that screamed summer lovin’. She could get lost looking into his eyes.

She didn’t flinch when he got close. She didn’t flutter, soften, or sidestep the gravity between them.

Her daddy’s words replayed between her ears, ‘Go let some young fool look at you like the miracle you are.’ If anything, she leaned into it, welcomed it.

Because that’s what his look was giving.

Christmas had come early, and he was glad about it.

Paige hadn’t had someone try and see through her soul in years.

Her smirk was one of confidence and ego.

Giovanni's eyes swept over her slowly, taking in the brown of her thighs glittering in the sunlight, the curve of her waist hugged by delicate chains, those curls framing a face that wasn't checking for what wasn't checking for her.

Her sunglasses tucked between full, glossed lips made him pause.

He'd finally understood what Emon had warned him about.

When he stopped in front of her, a slow smile took over his face.

He'd seen her before, but not like this.

Not looking like his fuckin queen-to-be.

Her brown skin reminded him of cinnamon, and that high ponytail gave her an energy that nobody around here had.

No disrespect, but nobody was fucking with Paige Bishop.

This beauty had style and was exactly who she thought she was, a ten on her worst day and an answer to a complex math problem at her best. Her face was softer today, softer than he’d seen before.

Her intentions were hard to ignore. She was tryna catch herself something.

A man? A trick? Some back shots? He couldn’t say for sure. Shit, he could be all that in one.