Page 7

SERENITY

T he warm California air wrapped around me as I let out a loud laugh, gripping Iman’s arm as we ran toward the next ride. The flashing carnival lights painted the sky in streaks of neon pink, blue, and yellow, the sound of laughter, games, and music filling the air.

"Come on, Ren! You scared?" Iman teased, tugging me toward the towering Ferris wheel.

"Boy, please," I scoffed, rolling my eyes but letting him lead the way. "I just need a second to recover from that damn spinning ride you forced me on."

"You was the one talking shit," he smirked, lacing our fingers together.

I glanced down at our intertwined hands, my heart squeezing just a little.

We had been out for hours, hopping from ride to ride, stuffing our faces with fried food and cotton candy, acting like we didn’t have a single worry in the world.

And for the first time in a long time, it felt like we were us again.

No tension. No distance. Just Iman and Serenity, the way it had always been.

So why did I still feel like something was wrong?

I had caught him spacing out all night, a far-off look in his deep brown eyes, like his mind was somewhere else.

I could have asked him. Could have pushed him to tell me what was on his mind.

But I didn’t. Because I knew. And I didn’t want to ruin this, not when this was the first time in a little minute when we were having fun and just being us.

So instead, I leaned into him as we settled into our seat on the Ferris wheel, resting my head on his shoulder.

For months there had been tension between us and I hated just how off we felt.

It started the moment I told him I had gotten into Tisch.

After not getting into Juilliard, I think Iman thought I would stay on the west coast; I had also gotten into Stanford something I applied to just to say I did it.

But, we both knew my plan was never to go there. The corporate world just wasn’t for me.

As a free spirit, I didn’t see myself working a 9-5.

I saw what that life did to my family, they always seemed stress, always trying to make more money, but it came at a price that I wasn’t anywhere near interested in paying.

Instead, my goal was to study dance and if I didn’t get picked up by a dance company, I would open my own dance studio.

Since I was old enough to remember I had dedicated my life to dance; mostly ballet but all genres.

"This night was perfect," I murmured.

He let out a slow breath, his arm wrapping around my shoulders, pulling me closer. "Yeah, it was."

I closed my eyes, trying to ignore the way his voice sounded almost sad.

Because if I ignored it, I could pretend—just for a little while longer—that everything was okay.

The perfect night didn’t last.

It was like the weight of whatever had been on Iman’s mind all night finally got too heavy to carry. We sat in my bedroom an hour later, the air between us thick, heavier than it had been in years.

"Ren, we need to talk."

The second he said those words, my heart dropped.

I swallowed hard, arms crossed as I leaned against my dresser. I knew what was coming, but I wasn’t ready for it.

"What is there to talk about?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Ren… you know this long-distance shit ain’t gon’ work."

I flinched at how blunt he was, but I knew he wasn’t trying to hurt me. He was just being honest. I wanted to argue. Wanted to tell him that we could figure it out, I wanted to shout that love was enough.

But was it?

Because if I was really being honest with myself, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to fight for this anymore. Not because I didn’t love him—because I did, so much. Iman had been my first love since freshman year. We had started dating almost immediately after he transferred to our school.

No, not loving him would ever be the problem. But because…because every time my phone lit up, I hoped it was Creed. And that wasn’t fair. Not to Iman. Not to me.

"So, what, we just… throw four years away?" My voice cracked, I grew emotional and had known this was going to happen but wasn’t prepared for it.

"Nah, Ren. We don’t throw nothin’ away," he said softly. "We just… let go before we start hating each other, before we fuck up something that means so much to the both of us. Man, I love you so fucking much this shit hurts but we both know it’s time to let it go. You going off to school in a few weeks, honestly, I should have done this sooner.”

Tears burned the back of my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I nodded, forcing a tight smile.

“Okay.”

"We good though, right?" he asked after a beat.

I exhaled deeply, then finally nodded. "Yeah Iman, we good."

We sat in silence for a moment before he stood, stepping closer, hesitating for a second before pulling me into his arms. I wrapped my arms around him, pressing my face into his chest, inhaling his familiar scent one last time.

"Love you, Ren."

"Love you too Iman, so much."

And just like that, we were over.

Standing in the living room of my new apartment, I let out a deep sigh, taking it all in.

I was finally here.

The apartment was everything—already furnished and decorated but with splashes of our own style. We’d played rock, paper, scissors to determine who got the master and although I wasn’t happy that I had lost; I made due with the next biggest room in the apartment.

All throughout my space, I had added hints of myself; trinkets and bits of home including photos of me, my family and even Iman.

The breakup was still fresh and my emotions about it were still all over the place.

Part of me was honestly mad at Iman for not even attempting to make it work, but the other part was relieved that he had the balls to do what I would have never done.

I missed him, every single day but I knew this was what was best for us.

"This is it, Tootie," Arielle grinned beside me, taking in the view. "No parents. No rules. Just us."

I grinned, spinning around, feeling the kind of freedom I had never had before. I’d just finished unpacking and needed a quick break. But before I could fully enjoy it, my phone buzzed in my hand.

I sighed seeing my daddy’s name and picture appear on the screen. Then I got up from the couch before stepping into my room to answer.

"Hey, Daddy."

"You settled in?"

"Yeah, just got done unpacking."

"Good, good." There was a pause before he added, "She should’ve called you, you know."

I clenched my jaw, already knowing exactly who he was talking about.

"Daddy, please don’t," I sighed.

"Serenity, she’s your mama?—"

"And she didn’t even call to wish me well," I cut him off, voice tight. "She hasn’t called. She hasn’t texted. Hell, I doubt she even cares. She got up out of California to get to Atlanta so fast, you’d think she actually loved it there."

"That’s not true," he tried, but I was done making excuses for her.

"Daddy, stop," I said softly. "Maybe it’s time you accept what I have been trying to. Me and her, we’re never gonna be what you and I want us to be."

Silence.

And that said more than anything.

"I gotta go, Daddy," I muttered.

"I love you, Tootie."

"Love you too."

I ended the call, pressing the phone to my forehead for a second before shaking it off.

I wouldn’t let her ruin this for me. This was my fresh start. And I was going to enjoy every damn second of it.

The first week of classes seemed to arrive before I was fully ready for them. I had gotten my schedule at a freshman orientation and had been trying to acclimate myself to where my classes were so I could map out my route to class.

"Drama 101? Are you serious?" I groaned, staring at my schedule like it might change if I looked hard enough. I was in the middle of the atrium surrounded by other eager freshman all with the same excited and anxious looks on their faces.

"You got stuck with it too?" a voice beside me asked.

I turned to find two girls standing there, both holding their schedules, looking just as unamused as I did.

"Unfortunately," I sighed, tucking my paper away. "It’s giving unnecessary."

The girl who had spoken first let out a small snort, shaking her head.

She was stunning—slim-thick with rich brown skin, big brown eyes, and pouty lips. She had a button nose, soft chipmunk cheeks, and a sleek, shoulder-length black bob that framed her face perfectly.

"Right?" she agreed, sighing dramatically. "Like, who needs to study drama? It’s literally people pretending for a living."

"It’s an art," the second girl chimed in, her raspy Southern accent dripping with sarcasm.

I turned to look at her and found myself smiling immediately. She was my height,—tall, with rich, chocolate skin, full lips, and a long weave that cascaded down her back. Her grin was playful, showing her slightly larger front teeth, which only made her look even cuter.

"I mean, it’s cool or whatever," I said, smirking. "But y’all don’t think it’s a little funny that they act like it’s on the same level as other forms of art? I mean, music is art, dance is art, art is art, but drama meh." I shrugged.

The girl with the bob raised a brow. "Girl. Exactly. Back at my high school you couldn’t tell the theater kids that what they were creating art; it’s pathetic."

"They swear they special," the tall one muttered.

"Like, no shade, but shade," the one with the bob added.

I laughed. I didn’t even know these girls yet, but I already liked them.

"I’m Serenity," I finally introduced myself.

"Averi St.Claire," the girl with the bob said. "Future grammy winning producer and song writer.

"Egypt Armstrong," the taller one said. "Same only add singer instead of producer."

"Oh, so y’all are at Tisch huh," I said. "I’m a dance major."

"Damn, you actually got talent," Egypt teased. “I know for a fact you gotta audition to even get in here for both dance and music.”

"Yup, imagine us now having to take this class and deal with a bunch of idiots." I sighed, shaking my head.