Page 28

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Ace

I wake up hard.

Satisfied.

And fucking confused.

For a minute, I wonder if last night was some kind of fever dream, like some twisted manifestation of my own deeply suppressed desires. But, no. It had to be real. The evidence is right there—my body's still humming from the aftermath of pleasure I’ve never felt before, my sheets faintly scented with something that shouldn’t be there.

Something that smells like her .

Not vanilla this time, though. It leans more caramel. Whatever the fuck it is, it’s sweet, and it pisses me off.

My first instinct is to just push the whole thing into a dark corner of my mind where I don’t have to analyze it for a deeper meaning. I wanna stick with the lie that I was dreaming. That my body reacted on its own.

But I know better.

The evidence is too strong.

Fuck.

I sit up, rubbing a hand over my face, forcing myself to snap out of it. Whatever the hell it was, it doesn’t matter at this point. Raya is out of my life. I ended that shit for good. The only thing to do now is change my fucking door codes and start setting my alarm system.

Kam calls while I’m in my office. Annoying ass. I know what she wants. I’m tempted to let her go to voicemail, but she’s still my big sister. I can’t quit her.

I swipe to answer. “Yeah?”

“Did you do it?” she asks, skipping all the pleasantries.

I don’t keep her in suspense. “Of course. Didn’t I say I would?”

She claps on the other end. “You did the right thing, Ace. That bitch is fried.”

I shrug. “It’s whatever. At least Mama’s proud of me, for once.”

Kam scoffs. “Boo hoo. Do you think you’re the only one she does that too?”

“Feels like it,” I say bitterly.

“Do you know what she said when I got my MBA? ‘Well, at least you can actually use this one.’ ”

I chuckle at that, remembering the uproar over Kam’s bachelor’s in English Literature.

“And poor Vanessa,” she says. “ ’Dentists aren’t real doctors.’ Remember that?”

I shake my head. “I forgot about that one.”

“Because it wasn’t directed at you.” She pauses to take a breath. “That’s just how she is. Grandpa was hard on her. You know that.”

“Fuck that gotta do with us?”

“Um, everything? Apples don’t fall far from trees, and whatnot.”

Grandpa Harris was a mean old bastard. Military man. Real cold. I always admired him because he looked like the kind of man you don’t fuck with. Carried himself real regal and authoritative. I guess I never thought about what it might have been like growing up with him.

“You have to learn how to stop taking it personal,” she says. “Mama’s boy.”

“Whatever, Kam.”

She pauses, then her tone shifts. It’s lighter when she says, “Rico’s taking me to Paris.”

“Cool. When?”

“Over Thanksgiving. I think he’s gonna propose.”

I raise an eyebrow wondering how that’s gonna go over with my parents. “Congrats,” I say flatly. “Happy for y’all.”

“Yeah, you sound happy.”

“Love is in the air,” I say with a sigh.

She laughs. “Okay, Les Misérables. You ain’t finna kill my vibe. Bye.”

She clicks off before I can muster up some enthusiasm.

Her and Rico. Dayton and Shara. Everybody wanna be all in love and shit. For what? To get let down? Miss me with it.

I turn on Future and put my head down to work.

Fuck all this love shit.

Lunchtime comes and goes while I bury myself in my project, double-checking blueprints, running over calculations. I know every inch of this shit, because I’m good at what I do. I don’t know why I ever doubted myself.

Actually, maybe now I do.

Cuz apples don’t fall far.

A knock on my door gets my attention. It’s Hugh, my boss, the owner of the firm.

Hugh is like Zuckerberg—a nerd made good. Wiry, sharp-eyed, and always mentally five steps ahead of everybody else. His hair is more salt than pepper, combed over his balding head with precision, but constantly messy from him running his hands through it when he’s thinking. Clothes always wrinkled, pants too short. And he’s obsessed with numbers. Probably did calculus for fun as a kid. He’s an affable guy, though. Always believed in me.

“I have news for you,” he says as he passes through the door. “Get your best suit cleaned.”

I frown. “For what?”

“You got an invitation to the White House.”

For a second, I just stare at him. A giant grin breaks out across his face while I try to make sense of what he said.

“The White House?” I repeat.

He laughs as he slides a sheet of paper across my desk. “The Office of Environmental Quality is bringing in a few of the leading minds in sustainable infrastructure. Our project caught their attention.”

I pick up the letter and scan it, finding my name printed on it, clear as day.

Hugh walks around my desk and claps me on the shoulder. “Congratulations, buddy. You earned it.”

I nod, still processing. “Thanks,” I finally say.

“Bring a date,” he says, moving to the door. “Or, you know, whoever. A plus one. Long as they don’t embarrass us.”

I chuckle. “Noted.”

Easy decision for a mama’s boy. Mama’s a huge fan of Brenda Malloy.

The rest of the workday goes by without incident. I pack up and head to my car, my head on a swivel, my eyes darting left to right.

I can’t believe I’m looking for her.

I lowkey expected to see her car out here today. Kinda thought she’d be waiting on me with that sexy smile that says ‘you’re mine, and I’m not letting you go.’

But she…let me go.

Easily.

And as right as my decision was, that shit still hurts a little. I thought Raya was different, but in the end, she had no problem saying good bye.

Story of my fucking life.

In the car, a phone check reveals no calls from her. No texts.

Even after last night, nothing.

What kind of game was she playing?

That’s the question that leads me to drive my miserable ass over to her house once again.

It’s quiet inside when I ring the doorbell, so it’s easy to hear her footsteps as she shuffles toward me.

When she opens the door, she stands there, barefoot, back in her silk robe that’s barely staying tied. Her hair is wild. Her eyes are puffy. She looks fragile, but knowing what I know now, it could be another one of her illusions.

She blinks at me, silent for a second before saying, “Do you need something?”

“Yeah.” I push past her. Fuck an invitation. “I need answers.”

The casual way she rolls her eyes sets my teeth on edge. Up here acting like I’m the one in the wrong. Like she didn’t break into my house and do unspeakable shit to me in my sleep.

“Follow me,” she says flatly, passing me to climb the wooden staircase. The way our footsteps creak tells me there was no way she ever snuck in or out this motherfucker undetected.

I keep my eyes low, fighting the instinct to stare at the curve of her ass and the soft flesh at the back of her thighs. My body is a traitor, but I have a mission here, and it ain’t that.

Her bedroom is the last one on the left. She closes it behind us, pulling her belt a little tighter.

“What’s your question?”

I look around her room, with it’s queen-sized bed covered in a million pillows of various sizes which she probably tosses on the floor every night before she goes to sleep. It smells like her in here. Everything is neat, except for her vanity. That’s where the chaos shows. Makeup everywhere, brushes, sponges in weird shapes. That must be where she does her videos.

I take a seat on her bed. “What the fuck was that last night?”

She crosses her arms in front of her, pushing her breasts up, drawing my eyes to her nipples. She’s definitely naked under that robe.

Focus .

“I don’t know what you mean,” she says with a smirk. “Last night? What happened last night?”

My eyes narrow. “I could be mistaken, but I’m almost positive a woman who looked and smelled just like you broke into my fucking house, sucked my dick, and stuck her finger in my ass.”

“Wow,” she says without blinking. “Sounds like a fun girl.”

“Don’t play with me.”

A smile teases the corners of her mouth. “Did she stop when you told her to?”

Well…

Fuck .

My silence amuses her, which pisses me off.

“Did you not tell her to stop?” she asks, her voice dripping with fake innocence. “Aww, you came, didn't you?"

I stare at her, my eyes blazing.

"I don’t know, Ace. Sounds like you enjoyed it.”

My fingers curl into fists. “That ain’t the fucking point, Raya.”

“Then what’s the point?” she says. “Are you worried it makes you gay?”

Now my jaw clenches.

She sighs like I’m exhausting her. “Lots of straight men enjoy prostate massages, babe. It takes things up to the next level. Nothing wrong with—“

“How would you feel if I broke in this motherfucker in the middle of the night and rammed my dick up your ass? Huh?”

She grins. “That sounds sexy, to be honest. I’m turned on just thinking about it.”

“Bullshit.”

Her face falls. Her eyes narrow, lips curling as her mood goes from smug to something much darker.

“You don’t know, do you?”

“What?” I snap.

“You have no fucking idea how much I want you,” she says, her voice raw. “Do you really think I care which hole you stick your dick in? Nigga, I’d let you fuck my brain if I could figure out a way to fit you through my ear canal.”

I stare at her, trapped between laughter, fear, and intense arousal.

What the fuck do you even say to some shit like that? And how do I stop the sick part of me that feels…flattered?

“Do you understand me?” she says through trembling lips. “All I ever wanted was you, Ace. But you left.”

“What the fuck else was I supposed to do? You lied! About everything! Then, you put the cherry on top by breaking in my fucking house!”

“Maybe that should tell you how strong my feelings are,” she says softly. “Read the room.”

“Nah," I say, shaking my head. "This ain’t about feelings.”

“Then what’s it about?” She walks over to her desk and drops into the chair. “It can’t be about secrets, because everybody keeps those.”

“Not like you.”

She smiles. “Really?”

Her eyes glint with something sinister.

“Are you up on your high horse right now?” she says. “You think you’re better than me? You think you’re so honest and open?” Her voice drops. “Let’s talk about little Elijah.”

My whole body locks up.

Raya’s breathing is shallow, eyes burning with rage. “Uh huh. You didn’t tell me. You withheld information ,” she says mockingly. “How the fuck is that any different from what I did?”

I don’t ask how she knows. I don’t deny it. I just stare at her, my pulse hammering in my ears.

Right now, I hate this bitch with everything in me.

“You wanna know how I know,” she says correctly. “I’ll tell you how I know. Because every second of your life can be found on the fucking internet.”

That snaps me out of my fury. “So you stalked me. Big surprise.”

“Whatever,” she says, waving me off. “All of y’all have public accounts. Why take pictures and post them if you don’t want people looking?” She leans forward. “You love it. Don’t you? All that validation. All those raggedy bitches in your comments telling you you’re 90s fine, and random ass people congratulating you on your accomplishments. What you not gon’ do is make me feel bad for looking at something you put out there. I refuse.”

My stomach knots. She’s wrong, but she ain’t all the way wrong.

Something else caught my ear, though.

“Who is ‘all of y’all?’”

She blinks. “What?”

“You said, all of y’all have public accounts.”

The hard exterior falters. For the first time, she looks scared.

“You knew my sister, right?”

I don’t wanna know, but I have to. I need to make a clean break, and I’m pretty sure she’s about to give me what I need to do it once and for all.

“You want the truth?” she says, and I laugh bitterly.

“Ain’t that what I been wanting? Yes! Fuck .”

She squares her shoulders, staring me directly in my eye.

“Your sister is a bitch.”

“Hold up—“

“Don’t ask for the truth and then get mad at how I tell it.”

I motion for her to continue.

“She left a rude ass comment on my video, completely unprovoked, mind you.” She shrugs. “I wanted to get her ass back, so I went to her account, found her info, and looked at all her pages. When I was on her Insta, that’s when I found you.”

“When was this?”

She’s not even ashamed when she says, “A couple of years ago, I guess.”

“So you stalked me online for two years.” I shake my head. “And I’m assuming you were following me in person, too. That must be why I thought you looked familiar. Cuz your ass been out here on some Ted Bundy shit.”

She giggles at that. “To be fair, I didn’t kill you.”

I don’t even know what’s happening anymore. This shit feels surreal.

“Raya—“

“Just tell me one thing, Ace. I want the truth from you, now.”

I nod. I’m fucking tired at this point, so it’s whatever.

“Has a bitch ever wanted you and only you for two entire years? Has a bitch ever had tunnel vision for you, where she can’t even see another man because she likes you so much? Has a bitch gone after you like I did? Admired you like I did? Fucked you like I did? Sucked you like I did?”

She stands and walks over to me, stopping an inch away, her pussy right in my face.

“Has anybody ever craved you like I do?” Her voice goes hoarse with need. “See for yourself, baby. Touch me.”

But I don’t need to touch her. I feel her heat. I smell her arousal. I close my eyes and let my head fall forward until it rests against her, my dick steel against my zipper.

How do I hate her and want her at the same fucking time?

She puts a hand on the back of my head. My hands go to the silky smooth skin on the back of her thighs.

The answer to all of her questions is no, but I can’t say it. Saying it would drive home how fucking hard this is for me, and she can’t know that. Giving her an inch is way too dangerous now that I know the kinda shit she does to take the mile.

So I just breathe her in for as long as I can. I don’t even stop when one of her teardrops hits the back of my neck and rolls down inside my collar.

With every bit of strength in me, I pull away, staring at the floor as I stand, knowing if I lock eyes with her, I’ll fold. She grabs my hand, pressing it against her breasts.

“Ace. Look at me.”

“I gotta go,” I say quickly, snatching away from her. As I’m walking towards her door, I realize this needs to be final. No room for misunderstanding. No room for error.

I turn to face her. “It’s over. For real. Don’t call me. Don’t text me. Don’t come to my fucking house. Leave me alone. Leave my family alone.”

Her chest caves in as a breath pushes out of her, but it’s not enough to sway me. I think about her stalking my family’s pages, Arnelle’s page, especially, and anger roils inside of me.

“I’m serious, Raya. You got too many fuckin’ issues. That shit ain’t normal. Maybe you oughta talk to a professional. Crazy ass bitch.”

Her sadness turns to anger. “Fuck you. Funny how a bitch is crazy once she starts calling you out on your bullshit.”

“Fuck you, too, honestly. I’m done,” I say. “Leave me and mine the fuck alone.”

I turn and leave without another word. Away from her. Away from her crazy bullshit.

And I pray it holds.