Page 3 of Ready or Not (The Nape #I)
Solène was…
Mierda, words can’t describe how fine this woman is.
Skin a gorgeous color of mahogany, I fell into a trance the minute I saw her walk in with that long dress that hugged all the right places. Don’t fault me for looking, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away.
New York was filled with beautiful Black women, so it wasn’t a surprise to stumble upon one every now and then. However, Solène was different, intriguing me to admire from afar and keep pushing.
I’m leaving soon anyways so might as well enjoy the view ‘till I can’t.
Exhausted from a long day at work, I wasn't interested in engaging in flirtatious—or any other types of interactions. My goal was to support my best friend's event, as I had made a promise to show up, greet a couple of people, and then take my Black ass home.
But once I watched her long terracotta curls sway as she headed to the bar by herself? Suddenly, the decision to leave felt premature. I found myself inching closer, wanting more.
Next thing you know?
I’m walking over, buying her a drink and striking up a conversation despite my heart racing a million miles a minute ‘cause everything about her was… whew.
“So, back to my question, Sol,” I said, my eyes dancing over her features for the hundredth time. “What brings you here tonight?”
Sipping on her mojito, her large brown eyes peered up at me, and I found myself getting lost in them.
“My friends brought me here.” Her eyes left mine, looking into the crowd of people dancing as if searching for someone, before they returned to me. “We just came from EverydayPPL, and Naomi told us about the invite she got for an event at Elsie. What about you?”
"Just here to support my friend's event before I head home.”
“Wait.” Her brows furrowed. “Your friend’s event… Is Tony—as in the host—your friend?”
I nodded. “We go way back. You know him?”
“Naomi does.” She gave me one of her giggles that had me grinning like a little kid internally every time I heard it. “I mean… I met him a couple of times in college when she brought him around, but I don’t know him like that. He a cool dude though.”
“Well shit. New York’s really a small world,” I mused. “Everyone’s always connected in some way.”
“Tell me about it.” She took another sip of her mojito, her eyes lingering on mine, then my lips for a beat too long before she looked away.
Silence took over the air between us, and I kept my eyes on her, trying to figure out how to keep the conversation going. Though it was brief, shit between us flowed effortlessly like we had known each other for a while, and I wasn’t ready to let her slip away just yet.
After what felt like minutes but was probably only seconds of us standing here, a new DJ appeared at the booth and switched up the tempo, starting his set with 4 Kampé II, and I couldn’t believe my luck. Without a second thought, I set my drink down.
“Spill-prone, you in the mood to dance?” I asked, praying she wouldn’t turn me down.
She giggled. “We’re back to spill-prone?”
“I’m just messing.” I winked, holding out my hand to her. “But seriously though, you wanna dance?”
She bit those plump lips of hers, covered by a gloss. “Uhm…”
“You don’t have to accept if you don’t want to.” Although I wish she would.
The idea of her in my arms while we danced—giving me the opportunity to take in the way her body moved—had me on edge.
Just looking at her was a visual feast, but the thought of actually holding her close, being able to let the vanilla and coconut fragrance that wafted off her skin, intoxicate me further?
That would put me through the wringer, but I didn’t care.
She took another look at the crowd and then back at me, slipping her hand into mine. “Don’t expect me to be some kompa queen just ‘cause I said I had Haitian in me.”
“I ain’t asking you to be.” My thumb grazed over her knuckles once it was in my grasp. “I wanna vibe with you a little longer.”
Leading her onto the dance floor, we found a spot in the midst of swirling bodies and began moving to the beat.
One hand on her waist with the other on her back, our steps naturally aligned like two puzzle pieces perfectly designed to fit together.
Every sway was as if we were one, every step like a conversation in itself; a language only we understood.
“I thought you didn’t know how to dance.” I moved my hands lower on her waist to pull her closer, rocking my hips in sync with hers.
“I never said that.” She laughed, looking into my eyes as if she were hypnotizing me. “I just said I wasn’t a pro.”
“You feel like a pro to me," I whispered before drawing her closer until there was barely any space left between us.
As we continued dancing, I used the opportunity of our closeness to appreciate her beauty up close.
Her curls, styled into a half-up, half-down braided hairstyle, bounced and swayed with every movement of her hips.
Her amber eyes sparkled each time the light hit them, and her fingernails grazing the back of my neck—it felt like a dream.
It was as if we were the only two people in the room, and I never wanted it to end.
So when the song finally ended, we stood there for a moment, our bodies still close, our breathing in sync, and continued dancing to the next set of slow songs without missing a beat. Even though the crowd around grew smaller and the party seemed to thin out, it didn’t matter to me.
I didn’t want this night to end, not when being with her felt like the most natural thing in the world.
Once the fifth song lulled, and the crowd was barely there to give us a quiet moment….
I did the one thing that went against what I had originally planned this evening.
I paused and looked down at the beauty, whispering close to her ear, “Do you wanna spend more time with me tonight?”