Page 2

Kairi

We were already at the party when Atlas showed up. Ashlen had talked me into matching outfits, and I was regretting every second of it. The tight white cropped polo and white tennis skirt were doing too much. I had way too much ass and way too many titties to be squeezed into fabric that wasn’t built for all this. But I went along, even though I felt like I was on display. I had my hair down, lips lined with brown pencil and glossed up. I don’t know why I always let her talk me into shit like this, but I did.

Maybe it was because when my mom died in that car accident, Ashlen was the one who held me up. My dad checked out and became lost in his own grief, and I understood, but I was twelve and I needed someone. Ashlen saw me, really saw me, and even at twelve, she had better sense than most grown folks. Every day for months, she had her mom drive her over to my house after school. Her mother would bring food or cook. They’d stay until dinner was over and leave food behind for me and my dad.

That’s how she became my best friend, even though, if I’m honest, I didn’t really like her before that. She was kind of mean and stuck up because her daddy was a lawyer who bought her everything she wanted. That made her real popular in a school full of middle-class kids. One day, she sat at my table and asked me why I didn’t like her. I told her I didn’t know. From that day forward, she made it her mission to make sure I ended up being her friend. She was persistent as hell, always.

Ashlen spotted him right after I did and waved him over. "Atlas! Over here!"

He made his way over, those green eyes locking onto Ashlen's before they flicked to me and lingered, his head tilting like he was seeing me for the first time. And there it was—a flicker of interest. But it was too late for that. I was already done with him, especially after Ashlen’s graphic rundown of how she planned to fuck him later tonight. He was officially off-limits.

"Hey, you two," he greeted, his voice rolling out smooth as silk.

"Glad you could make it," Ashlen replied, flashing all thirty-two of those expensive veneers at him.

Atlas finally tore his gaze away from me and grinned back at her. "Wouldn't miss it."

We fell into conversation, or rather, Ashlen talked. She talked, and I played my usual role—nodding, throwing in the occasional word, letting her be the star she was born to be. I wasn’t the jealous type. I wasn’t petty. I knew that to some, Ashlen was more appealing, and I loved that for her.

"Want to dance?" Atlas suddenly asked, looking directly at Ashlen.

She laughed, a sultry sound. "Sure, why not?" She grabbed his hand and pulled him onto the makeshift dance floor.

I watched them for a moment, their bodies moving against each other like they were meant to. They looked good together, Ashlen's fiery hair and confident demeanor matching Atlas's brooding energy. For a split second, something twisted in my chest—jealousy, maybe? But that wasn’t me. I didn’t do jealousy.

I turned away, in search of something to drink, preferably something sealed and not tampered with. I wasn’t trying to get roofied my first week on campus. I was lost in thought when I bumped into what felt like a wall, only to realize it was someone.

"Oh, sorry," I mumbled, looking up to see a guy smirking down at me. He was fine. Skin the color of coffee with too much cream, curly hair, and hazel eyes. Dressed in a purple and gold jersey, black jeans, and Jordans. He had a brand on his arm, muscular but lean.

"No worries," he said, flashing a grin. "I'm an accounting major. Name’s Mike."

"Kairi," I replied, narrowing my eyes slightly. "But why are you leading with your major?"

He chuckled, a low sound. "People always assume I’m here on a basketball or football scholarship, taking something easy like African American studies. So now I start with my major, then drop the fact that I don’t play football or basketball. And no, I don’t dance either."

I tilted my head, considering him. "Hmm. I don’t know what to make of all that. It depends on why you’re clarifying. Do you think you’re better than a Black dude here playing sports and majoring in African American studies?"

His grin faded into something sincere. "No. I just like people to know we’re not monoliths."

I nodded, satisfied with his answer. "Good response. I’m a journalism major."

We started talking, and after a while, the noise of the party faded into the background. Mike was easy to talk to, with a sense of humor that kept me engaged and laughing.

In the middle of our conversation, Mike’s words trailed off, his gaze shifting past me. I followed his line of sight.

"You know ol’ boy?" he asked, nodding toward Atlas.

I turned to see who he was talking about, then shook my head. "Not really, met him today."

Mike’s eyes narrowed slightly. "He’s been staring this way damn near the whole time we’ve been talking."

"That’s my best friend he’s dancing with," I said, shrugging it off. "She probably got him looking out for me."

Mike nodded, the tension easing from his shoulders, but just as he looked away, I caught Atlas glancing over at me. Our eyes locked for a brief, heated second. He smirked, a small, almost imperceptible curve of his lips, before turning his attention back to Ashlen.

What was that about? I wondered, but not for too long. Mike and I kept talking for a while longer. Mike had an easy way about him, like he didn’t need to prove anything to anyone. It was refreshing, especially in a place where everyone seemed to be posturing. We exchanged numbers when his frat brother came to get him.

I ended up finding a quiet corner in the empty dining area, sitting on the floor. I pulled out my noise-canceling earbuds and let "Kissing My Tattoo" drown out the party noise. I closed my eyes and rested my head against the wall. As the night wore on, Ashlen found me, shaking my shoulder to grab my attention. I opened my eyes and looked up. She was bent over in front of me, cheeks flushed, hair matted to her head. She was drunk.

"Having fun?" she asked, rolling her eyes.

"Yeah," I replied, forcing a smile. "It's been a great night."

She rolled her eyes again. “I’ll be back, and we can leave then. Stay right here.” An hour passed before she came back and pulled me up from the floor. We walked back to our shared one-bedroom apartment, me half-carrying her along the way. Inside, Ashlen flopped onto her bed, outside clothes and all. I cringed and started taking off my own clothes, ready for a shower.

"Tonight was amazing. I can't wait for the next party," she mumbled. We had only been in school three weeks and had been to a party every night. There was always a party. I was going to have to start declining.

I smiled though, sitting at my desk and kicking off my sandals. "Yeah, it was a lot of fun."

She glanced at me, eyes glazed. “You think me and Atlas would be a good couple?”

I frowned. “I thought you didn’t do relationships?”

That had been her mantra ever since she was allowed to date at sixteen. She said she just wanted to date and fuck. I was the romantic.

“That was before I met him,” she nearly sang, like he was her muse.

I shrugged. “If you can see yourself with him, I can too,” I said, heading to the bathroom.

As I turned on the shower, I couldn’t shake the image of Atlas’s smirk. It was just a look, I told myself. But deep down, I knew it was more than that.