Page 36 of Between Passion and Revenge, Part One (The Griot Chronicles #1)

SHAE

N ine days later, my ass and hips still hurt from the date Storm took me on three weeks following what I call Sofagate.

I was a little concerned when Storm picked me up on the Saturday after Thanksgiving and started navigating the Porsche toward Englewood—especially when he wouldn’t say a word about where we were going.

But after a few turns, we stopped on the outskirts of Bronzeville in front of a place I hadn’t been in a solid eight years.

I laughed and asked Storm, “Roller skating?”

He snagged brand new, thick white socks from the center console, waving them in the air.

We spent three hours at the roller rink, going around and around as songs from my parents’ generation and some new hits piped through the gigantic black speakers nailed to the wall.

All was going well…until I decided I could whip and Nae Nae while wearing skates when Silentó’s song came on.

I laughed when I hit the ground with a resounding boom, barely avoiding cracking my head on the polished hardwood. But then I tried to get up and fell again, pulling Storm down on me as I crashed onto my side.

Ouch all-around.

“Yennifer, this isn’t a party,” I say, walking into my kitchen—and better than I have over the past few days. “In fact, this may not be a thing to celebrate at all.”

It’s six p.m., a week before winter break; I received an email from Harvard at six a.m. telling me my admissions decision was ready for me to view in the portal.

I’ve been on edge, feeling like I’m going to vomit all day. For some reason, I couldn’t make myself open the results alone. I know I need someone with me when I get the news.

I need Storm, and I try not to count down the minutes until he arrives.

Yenn and Ezra, noticing I’ve been off all day, decided to be here for moral support…and party snacks, if the pizza boxes, chip bags, and Jell-O shots are any indication.

“Every day we’re above ground is a day to celebrate, sis,” Ezra throws over his shoulder as he stirs what smells like hot buffalo sauce.

“Listen, Shae,” Yenn says, coming forward to clap both hands on my shoulders.

“For better or worse, you do understand how much of an accomplishment this is? You’re almost done with your last year of undergrad, and you successfully took the GMAT twice.

Whatever the outcome, I know you will be great, because you’re great. ”

Her words have me teary-eyed, and I pull her into a tight hug, breathing in her patchouli scent and sending up a prayer of gratitude for my best friend.

“Plus,” she says when we separate, “You’ve finally decided to bring your boyfriend around and stop hiding the fact that you’re Storm Sandoval’s boo.

I’m hurt, by the way, and I don’t know if or how I’ll ever forgive you for keeping this vital information from me, but I’m sure we’ll find a way.

” She walks over to Ezra, who taps his spoon on the side of the pot before putting it in the holder.

They both face me with identical crossed-arm stances.

“It wasn’t— It’s not— I haven’t been hiding him, and he hasn’t been my…” I try to find a damn word to describe what Storm and I are and come up short. The easy title is “boyfriend,” but it feels too…simple.

If we’re anything, I think we’re more than that.

I’ve decided there’s no harm in me admitting to myself that Storm Sandoval makes me hot. Hell, the man saw my girl up close and personal in a way only my gynecologist has.

And damn if I didn’t feel worshipped.

But Storm stays true to his word. He’s letting me be the one to decide—to make the next move.

He’s laid all his cards out on the table. Now it’s time for me to pick them up.

“He’ll be here soon,” I say, pulling out my phone to look at the time. Meet-ups with Storm have become more relaxed these days, but we’re always at his place. It’ll be nice to have him in my domain for once.

The text icon shows I have one new message, and I open my phone all the way, only to have a rock settle in my gut.

It’s from my dad.

I’m rooting for you, baby girl! Call me when you know.

Pain settles like a shelf at my brow bone, stress causing me to want to bend over and wince.

He wants to see me succeed in a place where he couldn’t, and since I was the reason why his dreams didn’t come to fruition, a big part of me feels like if I don’t see this through, his whole sacrifice will have been for nothing.

It’s an unfair expectation to put on myself, I know. But therapy is expensive and not covered by my school insurance, so I’ll just have to keep my iffy thoughts to myself and keep pressing forward.

I’ll call you soon. I love you, Daddy.

I hit send on the message when a confident knock raps on the door.

“I’ll get it!” Ezra and Yenn say at the same time, pushing against each other to get to the front door. They know it must be Storm.

I step in front of them.

“ I’ll get it,” I say, giving them a biting smile.

Yenn sucks her teeth and Ezra mutters something that sounds like, “spoil sport.”

Facing the door, I try to calm my racing heart, the emotion I feel every time I’m about to come face-to-face with Storm Sandoval.

I swing open the door, and Storm and I stare at each other for a moment, neither of us reaching for the other.

I’m frozen and it looks like he is too.

“Storm?” I question. He looks off, like he’s deeply troubled. But when I say his name, he seems to snap out of it, and a small smile graces his face.

“Shae.”

That’s all he says, and then I’m in his arms. He tucks me beneath his chin, pulling me close as I lock my hands around his back.

The embrace feels different. It’s intimate.

It’s pained.

“Is everything okay?” I whisper, keeping my face pressed close to his chest. Storm takes a deep breath before relaxing his spine.

“Everything’s great now that I’m with you,” he replies, but not low enough, because Yenn shouts, “Awww!”

I jump, and Storm chuckles. Pulling back to examine him, the uneasiness that cloaked him when I opened the door seems to have disappeared.

“Yennifer. Ezra. Always good to see you again.” Storm reaches past me, since I’m still attached to him like a koala, and I hear flesh meeting flesh—Ezra and Storm likely giving each other daps.

Finally deciding to give the man his body back, I take a big step away from Storm, determined to give him some space. But the man in question clearly has no intention of letting me go far, and he grabs my wrist, pulling me into his side and positioning my arm to wrap around his waist.

“Shae, we’ll let you decide. Do you want to eat first and then open the results, or get the results out the way so we can celebrate?” This comes from Yenn, and she looks so happy and confident, that I want to hold on to her energy and do the scary thing while I feel good.

The constant hum of anxiety I’ve felt all day is gone, now. Storm shifts, looking down at me.

I won’t be stupid and say I don’t know why I feel better. I’m calmer, at peace, because I’m with him.

It’s him. Storm is my calm in the middle of my storms.

“Let’s check first,” I say, trying to infuse confidence into my tone. Yenn lets out a tiny whoop! and runs toward our living room. We all follow her, and I enter the space just in time to see her put her bong on the floor at the side of the coffee table to make space for my laptop.

“Mmkay, bestie, you sit right here,” she says, pulling my hand to plop me on our sofa. “And you ,” she grabs Storm’s wrist and positions him next to me, “sit here.”

Moving around the coffee table, she faces the two of us and says, “All right. Moment of truth. Let’s do this!”

I nod, swallowing thickly as I move in what feels like slow motion toward the laptop. I don’t bother placing it on my lap. Slowly, I type in the URL to the portal, sign in, and pull my hands back when the hyperlink to see the results pops up.

“All right, here we go,” I mumble, my lips feeling curiously cold.

Yenn and Ezra move around the coffee table to sit at the ends, sandwiching Storm and me closer together in the middle. Storm’s hand lands on my lower back, rubbing up and down in a slow, soothing cadence.

“Click the link, Sweetness,” he murmurs in my ear.

Click the link.

Reaching out, I press the trackpad with my index finger.

Ba-dum.

Ba-dum.

Ba-dum.

“Holy shit, smarty-pants!” Yenn’s excited squeal hits my left eardrum just as I register Ezra’s excited “fuck yeah!” as he jumps from the couch.

But while they’re excited, I have to hold my stomach with both arms as the words on the screen blur.

Before this wave of what-the-fuck -ness swamped me, I read the words:

Congratulations on your acceptance to Harvard Business School.

“Amazing job, Sweetness,” Storm says close to my ear. “Do you know how damn proud I am of you? You did it.”

He kisses me behind my ear, and I paste on a smile, but I know it looks forced.

I don’t feel like smiling right now. This should be the happiest moment of my life—the culmination of everything I’ve been working so damn hard for.

So why do I feel like I want to start kicking and screaming and sobbing on the floor?

Why does this feel wrong?

Storm shifts on the sofa, and a new wave of panic hits.

I have to make a decision about the man sitting next to me.

The man I’m…falling in love with. And now, with the very real next step in my life right in front of my face, I have no clue what this terrifying news means for us.

“Thanks, Storm,” I murmur, and he pulls back. The smile falls from his face.

“What’s wrong?” he murmurs, looking at me with way too much understanding in his gaze.

“Nothing,” I lie. Storm’s expression turns serious.

“All right, babes! A Jell-O shot for you,” Yennifer drawls, handing a shot from a tray to Ezra, who stands next to our small entertainment system.

“And a Jell-O shot for you.” She gives one to Storm.

“And a Jell-O shot for the queen!” She pushes one an inch from my face, and I rear back, grabbing it with tingly fingers.