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“On the gang,” she laughed.

Her outfit was laid across the bed.

A slinky, asymmetrical top in a shade of metallic bronze that made her brown skin glow like the golden hour hit her all day.

She paired it with high-waisted olive cargo pants that cinched her waist and hugged her hips making her slim curves really pop.

Aku had a nasty pair of heels that would add the razzle she needed—designer strappy, toe-out, ankle-wrapped with a tiny charm on the side that said luxury, bitch.

It would make her legs look damn near endless.

Aku had to pause and blink at her own reflection.

Bob was already sleek—curved just right at the ends, flat to her scalp with a part so crisp it looked unreal - lashes full, lip gloss glossy, nails fresh, and every freckle across her button nose was catching the light like God personally kissed her with glitter, or she was magic like Gran Betty told Myesa.

Despite looking like she had the world in the palm of her hand, her stomach was on some junior high crush energy - light flips and warm little jitters.

She’d been on dates before—lavish ones. with NBA players…

Directors…Rappers…the occasional spoiled heir who thought money could fill his personality void.

None of them made her feel this hopeful, with the exception of one.

Aku grabbed her phone, scrolling to Devin’s name before going to her favorites and hitting Noodle’s name instead.

“Don’t say nothin’,” Aku said the moment Noodle answered. “Just shut up and listen.”

“I haven’t even said anything,” Noodle replied with a soft laugh. She was out in New York for a movie audition.

“I know, but I can hear your judgment and your bun.”

“My what? ”

“Your bun, Noodle! I know it’s twisted tight on top of your head, while you squintin’ at that little script like you tryna find a reason to say no.”

Aku said the weirdest shit that only made sense to her until she explained further.

Noodle giggled. “Okay, you might be right.”

“I know I’m right.”

Aku flopped back on the bed dramatically, legs swinging. “Anyway, I need you to tell me I don’t look too good.”

“I…what?”

“Tell me I look regular, like mid.”

“Aku, you’ve never looked mid a day in your life. Why would I lie to you?”

“Because I’m freaking out, girl! Malik said he wanted to take me out…I feel like I’m doing too much. Like, I don’t want him to feel uncomfortable in my world, you know?”

The words hit her chest after she said it.

Noodle thought over her words, then sighed, feeling like it was her turn to walk Aku off the ledge like Aku had done for her when she was caught up in Bu. “You really like him.”

“I don’t like anybody, Noodle. You know me—I’m a lover girl. I be getting caught up with the possibilities. But him?” Aku sat up. “He makes me feel…seen…like, fully - even the parts of me I try to dim so I don’t scare people. He don’t mind my mouth or that my people got money.”

“That’s what it’s supposed to feel like,” Noodle said. “You’re supposed to feel safe and lit up.”

Aku snorted. “I’m emotionally unstable.”

They both laughed. The kind of laugh that made Aku forget about the butterflies in her chest for a second.

“I like y’all,” Noodle added. “Even from a distance. It’s giving…grounding. He calms you.”

“And I scare him,” Aku said, smirking. “Just enough to let him know not to play with me.”

“Balance.” Noodle snickered, feeding into Aku’s playfulness. “Bu told me he snatched your butt out the club.”

“It didn’t go like that…Noodle, I had that nigga’s head between my legs on the side of the road.”

Noodle snorted a laugh. “Oh yea, he might be the perfect crazy to handle you…Siasia called me asking about your little situation. The family is scrambling to get the tea.”

“You better not tell her!” Aku hollered.

“You know your secrets are always safe with me.”

Aku pursed her lips. “I have to make sure. You on Qamar’s side of the family and he can be a little messy.”

“Not too much, on him.” They both had to laugh at that, ’cause it was true.

They talked for another hour—about the script Noodle was reading for a movie, set in Emerald City, and about French calling again just to “check who’s around” like she didn’t know what that meant. They ended up gushing about how nobody could ever make shrimp and grits like Ahvi.

Time flew by when they found time to just catch up like this. Aku used that time to apply her makeup and any last minute touches to her outfit.

Knock knock.

Aku scrambled to hang up, suddenly flushed. “He here. Bye - love you.”

“Be yourself, don’t overthink it,” Noodle sang through the phone. “And send me a picture!”

“I’m outside hoe!” Aku laughed, hanging up.

After a deep inhale, Aku opened the door. Her smile widened immediately.

Malik stood there, lean and fly and fine in a way that punched her in the gut.

His black tee was fitted, stretching slightly over his chest and arms. Baggy cargos sagged just right over his kicks—crisp black Air Forces, fresh out the box.

A thick silver chain rested on his chest, catching the light.

His bottom grill flashed when he smiled low.

Tattoos danced up both arms, snuck around his neck, and kissed his cheekbone in the corner—just above his eye.

God.

He was street royalty and all hers tonight.

“You clean up good,” she said, voice soft, yet teasing.

He smirked, eyes traveling over her body like he had to commit it to memory. “You clean up disrespectful. I’m tryna focus and them jeans ain’t lettin’ me.”

She laughed, pulling her door closed behind her. “Thank you…I think.”

He glanced down at her heels, then back up with heat in his eyes. “You ready?”

“I been ready.”

He offered his arm. She looped hers through it, after grabbing her purse.

They stepped into the night. Two beautiful, dangerous souls who knew the cost of love, but were still willing to pay it.

His hand palmed her ass, gripping it. “Damn, I can’t get a lil taste?”

“No, Malik.” Aku blushed while making her ass jiggle.

“You wearing the fuck outta that lil razzle shirt.”

“Oh, my, gosh, Malik!” She pushed her face into his side. “You can’t keep complimenting me like this.”

“Why? I’m speaking facts…” his fingers glided across her nipples that poked through. “No bra,” he pulled his lip into his mouth. “Panties?”

She shrugged. “I can’t remember.”

The elevator opened, cooling them off just a little, since there was another person on it who smiled at young love. Still, Malik couldn’t keep his hands off her.

“I ain’t ate since breakfast, so we gon’ do dinner then the aquarium. Cool?”

“I’m following your lead.”

Malik sat back in the booth, one arm stretched across the backrest like he owned the place, the other cradling a glass of dark liquor.

He looked like the kind of man the restaurant wasn’t built for.

Like he should’ve been posted up on a block or behind tinted windows, not reclining in this plush-ass seat with tattoos curling down his arms and a bottom grill flashing every time he cracked a smile.

And that smile?

That shit had power.

Aku couldn’t take her eyes off him. She felt good just being seen with him. They were the type of couple that made people do a double take, not just because they were attractive, but because their energy demanded it.

But it wasn’t all smooth.

Their waitress—young, blond, and clearly uncomfortable—kept glancing at Malik like she couldn’t decide if he was dangerous or distracting. Every time she came to their table, her smile tightened, and her tone shifted like she was trying to be polite without breathing too deep.

Aku peeped it.

At first, she let it slide. But by the fourth time—when the girl practically dropped Malik’s plate in front of him without a single enjoy your meal —Aku was already tilting her head, mouth slightly twisted.

“Is it us?” she asked, voice like a blade.

The waitress blinked. “I—sorry?”

“Cause it’s definitely not the food. That came out fine. So I’m tryna figure out why you keep lookin’ at my man like he stole somethin’ off your porch.”

Malik tried to muffle a laugh. “Dorothy…”

“Nah, I’m good,” she waved him off, eyes still locked on the girl. “You can send somebody else if it’s too much to handle. We’ll still tip. Generously…or maybe not.”

The waitress flushed, muttered something that might’ve been an apology, and walked off fast.

Malik looked at Aku, grinning hard now. “You didn’t have to do all that.”

She shrugged. “You didn’t have to show up lookin’ like trouble. But since you did, I’m gon’ handle whoever can’t.”

He shook his head, trying not to smile wider. “You wild.”

“And you like it.”

They both laughed. The tension broken. The food untouched.

Malik leaned in a little closer tapping his fingers against his glass. He went quiet for a little. His brows furrowed slightly, the playful spark fading into something thoughtful. A pause filled the air between them, that said he was holding something in his chest he wasn’t used to saying out loud.

“What?” she asked. “What’s that face?”

He exhaled. “Zaire hit me up the other day. Said some white folks wanna meet about the app.”

Her eyes lit up instantly. “Wait— Plugged In ?”

“Yea.”

“That’s huge, Malik.”

Slowly, he nodded his head. “It is. I don’t know if I’m even built for that kind of shit though. You know? Suits and handshakes…business cards. That world don’t feel like mine.”

She leaned in, elbows on the table, hands folded under her chin. “Why not?” Her lashes fluttered.

Malik shrugged. “Cause I made that app for us - for Crescent, for people who don’t got no voice or platform.

You know how many niggas been shot and it didn’t even make the news?

I ain’t tryna sell that to people who just see dollar signs.

And what if I’m not enough for them? I got a record, tattoos on my face…

I talk how I talk. What if they don’t see me? What if they don’t feel me?”

It was like Aku had superpowers - the way being close to her, gave Malik permission to be soft without feeling weak.

Her presence wrapped around the parts of him that used to flinch at comfort.

He was safe there . She didn’t even have to touch him.

Just the sound of her voice, the curl of her laugh, the way she looked at him like he was more than his scars.

He’d never had that…not like this…not even with his people.

Myesa loved him, sure. Anthony too. But their love was rough, loud, protective in a way that sometimes felt like too much pressure.

Their love told him to man up when he was barely holding on.

It taught him survival, not softness. Affection came through check-ins and street game, through cooked meals and “you straight?” texts instead of hugs or long talks.

That was just how they moved, no less real – just different.

Aku’s gentleness moved differently through him.

Her world felt soft but strong, like cotton draped over steel.

She didn’t need to yell to be heard…didn’t need to force him to feel.

Just being around her made the weight in his chest ease up, made breathing feel like less of a task.

There was a strength in her softness, something undeniable in the way she took up space and made it safe for him to do the same.

With her, he didn’t have to be Key the hustler, or Malik the tech genius, or even Malik from Crescent Park with all the ghosts stitched into his back.

With her, he could just be...

That was a different kind of intimacy - one he wasn’t used to…one he didn’t know he needed until it was in his lap—laughing loud, throwing fits, calling him out on his shit, and kissing him like he was worth saving.

She didn’t rescue him. She reminded him he didn’t always need to be rescued, that sometimes, he just needed a place to land.

And somehow, she became that place even when he gave her pushback.

“Then fuck them,” she said. “But that don’t mean you don’t show up. Because even if they don’t see you, they gon’ feel you.”

Malik just stared at her, wondering where the hell she came from.

“You built something outta nothing, Malik,” she went on. “You turned code into community. You turned trauma into a tool. That’s legacy shit. That’s not small. That’s not hood. That’s genius. You are a fuckin’ genius—black man. My Wizard of Oz.” She winked, pulling on his heart.

“You were made for more—black kids. That’s what my Uncle Javen said—announced that shit to the world. And even if you doubt it, I see it…every piece of you. The dark, the light, the shit you tryna hide. I see it all, and I still fuck with you heavy.”

His jaw flexed, just slightly but she noticed.

“Don’t dim just because they can’t handle the brightness of you,” she whispered. “Let ’em squint, or get some shades because you here and you’re him .”

Malik leaned back, breathing like her words just cracked his ribs open and set something free. “You dangerous, Dorothy” he muttered. “That mouth of yours…”

“This mouth will change your life if you let it.”

He smiled, bottom grill flashing again. “I believe that.”

She reached across the table, grabbed his hand, and gave it a squeeze. “Go to the meeting. See what they talking about. But know this—you don’t need them to be valid. You already that nigga, with or without their cosign.”

And right there, in the middle of a fancy restaurant he didn’t think he belonged in, Malik felt like a fuckin’ king, dining with his queen.