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She got quiet, then said softly, “Don’t give up on love, baby. It’s real. And when it’s good? Ain’t nothin’ like it. If you want her back… you’ll know what to do.”

I closed my eyes. “…I hear you.”

“Alright. Love you.”

“Love you too, Ma.”

We hung up and I stared out the window. City lights blinked below the hills like stars flipped upside down. I didn’t know if I still had it in me to chase something that felt lost. But Queenie’s words clung to me like an echo I couldn’t shake.

If you want her back… you’ll know what to do.

The real question was, would I really know what to do? As of right now, it didn’t feel like I was doing anything right when it came to the one I loved.

Later in the day, I was posted up at the rental, feet kicked up on the coffee table, scrolling through some beats Kylei had her assistant send over. My headphones in, hat pulled low when my phone buzzed with a name I wasn’t expecting…

Creed

I picked up after a few seconds. "Yo, what up?"

"What’s up Royal. I just wanted to reach out and invite you to the season opener in a few days. We got the luxury box set up for the whole fam. Bring whoever, just let me know how many tickets to send through."

“Word? That’s dope. I appreciate it but I don’t know if I need to be coming around no more. Averi made shit pretty damn clear she didn’t want me in her space.”

“Look, Ave is my homegirl, love her to death, but we both know how emotional women can be and I know she didn’t mean that shit. Besides, we boys now, right? I want you to come out and chill with the fam, it would mean a lot to me man.”

“Bet, say less.”

“Coo, let me know how many tickets and I’mma have my assistant send them over.”

I hung up and stared at my phone for a second. A part of me was saying I should have declined the invite, but the other half didn’t mind kickin it with a bunch of like-minded folks and enjoying a game. Plus, I needed some entertainment.

I couldn’t be worried about Averi and her feelings no more.

We were bound to be in the same spaces. Plus, she was the one to introduce me to her people, it wasn’t my fault we’d been developing our own relationships outside of her.

And now that I’d seen her again—now that I’d told her I was in love with her and she left me standing in that backyard like I’d said some shit in a foreign language?

I wasn’t about to show up looking sad and lonely. Fuck that.

I scrolled my DMs and paused on a thread from a girl I met at an event in West Hollywood last month. Tits. Lips. Lace-front. Filtered to hell. Not my type— definitely not Averi—but she was a pretty distraction.

I tapped Reply .

Me: Still in LA?

She hit me back in seconds.

TiffLuvv: Always. Why?

Me: Got tickets to the Clippers season opener. You down?

TiffLuvv: Ummm, YES?! I’ll send you my number.

"Yo!" Zay’s voice cut through my thoughts. He had just walked into the house and saw me smirking. "What’s that look about?" he asked, sliding into the seat across from me and reaching for the blunt I’d left in the ashtray.

"Creed just hit me," I said. "Invited us to the Clippers game. Box seats."

"Ayyye," Zay grinned. "That’s love."

I nodded. "Said I could bring somebody. So, I invited that chick from the Whiskey Lounge event last month."

Zay froze mid-pull. "Wait. That chick? The one with the neon green nails and the damn rhinestones on her eyebrows?"

"Yeah," I said, deadpan.

He blinked. “You invited Rhinestone Brows to sit in a luxury suite with Averi’s entire friend group?”

"Yup."

He exhaled, slow as hell. “Nigga. Why would you do that?”

I sat back; arms crossed. “Cause I’m tired, Zay. Tired of chasing, tired of apologizin’. I told her how I felt. I stood there like a whole simp, heart on my sleeve, and she bounced like I was some random.”

“You were a random when y’all met,” he muttered. “You just turned into her problem.” I shot him a look. “I’m jokin’ nigga, lighten up,” he said holding his hands up. “But for real. You still love her.”

"And she still ain’t fuckin’ wit me,” I snapped. “Ain’t returned a single text. Didn’t even look at me the same when I ran into her last time.”

Zay leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "So, your plan is to show up with an IG prop and what? Make her jealous?" I didn’t answer. "She ain’t gon’ get jealous," he said. "She’s gon’ get mad. And when women get mad, they make decisions they don’t take back."

"I mean what the fuck am I supposed to do? I tried," I mumbled. "She didn’t want me."

"That ain’t an excuse to be petty. You gon’ keep claiming you a grown man, but still playing high school hallway games?"

“I ain’t playin’,” I muttered, jaw tightening. “She left me hanging. Now I’m done trying to chase her.”

Zay shook his head. “You not done. You hurt. Big difference.” Again, I didn’t respond. “Look, go if you want,” he sighed. “But don’t drag some chick into a room full of real ones just to flex. Especially not one that’s never gonna measure up to what you had. And you know it.”

Still, later that night, I hit shawty back.

Me: Pick you up at 5:30. Dress fly. No loud-ass colors.

TiffLuvv: Loud? Lmao I’m a fuckin’’ vibe, baby. You better keep up with ME.

I stared at the message. This wasn’t a vibe. This was ego talking. But my chest still burned with that backyard silence. Her tears. The way she turned her back on me like I was a mistake she didn’t want to make twice.

So yeah. Not only was I going to that game, but I was going to let her see I’m good. Even if it’s a lie.