Page 6 of You Made a Fool of Death with Your Beauty

“Yes, hi—Oh, we’re hugging!” Joy said, widening her eyes over his shoulder at Feyi.

“Hell yeah. Heard only good shit about you.”

“Ah, then she didn’t talk me up enough,” Joy replied, and everyone laughed. They did a quick round of introductions for the rest of the group—Grant the doctor, Tolu the finance guy, Clint the architect. Nasir was a consultant in some field or the other; he didn’t seem as keen on talking about his work as the others. Tolu kept dropping clumsy hints about how hard he was balling, where he was vacationing, all while casting sidelong glances at Joy, clearly trying to impress her. Feyi fought back a yawn—she hated pretending like she gave a fuck about some random man’s small talk.

Nasir slid next to her. “Milan says you’re an artist?” His cologne was a faint musk, slithering notes of spice.

“Yeah,” she replied. It still felt weird to call that her job, even though it had been years now. “I make things.”

“That’s a great way to put it.” Nasir angled his head toward her and smiled. “I’m a bit of a collector myself. Just starting out, but I’d love to see your work if you’re open. You got any shows coming up?”

His hair shone in tight black curls, and Feyi tried not to notice how his shirt stretched over his chest.

“Not at the moment. I’ve done a few group shows, and I had my first solo show up in Boston last year.”

“Oh, you from there?”

Feyi made a face. “Not really. My parents teach in Cambridge.”

“Well.” Nasir reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. “Maybe we could set up a studio visit sometime?” He handed her a business card, and Feyi took it gingerly, surprised at the weight of the embossed black paper. It had only his name and a phone number on it.

“Oh, you’re serious, huh?” she said.

He laughed. “I’m always serious.”

Damn, she thought, even his laugh was sexy. His eyes crinkled up at the corners, and as he stared at her, Feyi reminded herself that she was there with Milan, not to check out his homeboys. She slid his card into her purse. Nasir’s eyes flickered past her, and his face lit up with a joy that surprised her with how much it transformed his face. “Lorraine!” he called out, then directed the brilliance of his delighted smile at Feyi.

“My sister,” he explained, “she just flew in this evening.”

A short girl with flawless skin and long blond sisterlocks threw herself into his arms, her duffel bag smacking against Feyi’s arm. She and Nasir laughed with the same full, wide mouths, spinning around, and Feyi took that moment to slip away and find Joy, who had escaped to the bar and was checking out the new arrival with shameless interest.

Feyi nudged her with an elbow in the ribs. “You’re drooling,” she said.

“Can you blame me?” Joy replied. “Look at her! You think she’s into girls?”

“Like that matters when it comes to you.”

Joy winked. “Good point. I’m gonna see if she’ll let me buy her a drink.”

Feyi shook her head and laughed. “Go on with your bad self.” She knew better than to try and stop Joy from shooting her shot. “Good luck.”

“Ha. Don’t need it.”

Joy left with a prowl in her shoulders, and Feyi headed to the roof, tapping people on their arms or the smalls of their backs as she pushed through the crowd, murmuring apologies and thank-yous until she made it through the doors. There were a few clusters of people outside, some smoking in a corner, most just standing and talking. The city was a spread of buildings and lights below them. Feyi braced her hands against the cool iron of the railing and closed her eyes, feeling the air against her skin, listening to the layers of sound, the DJ inside, the chatter and music around her, the faint cars all those stories down. She wanted another drink. She wanted to get in a car with Milan and go back to his place, come against his mouth, leave while he was still asleep so she could spend the night in her own bed without his flesh breathing beside her. She wanted to forget she was real.

“Mind if I join you?”

The voice came in low and unexpected, close to her ear. Feyi stumbled in her heels as she whipped around, startled. Milan’s homeboy was right there, sliding a hand across her back and pulling her away from the railing, his palm against her bare skin. Feyi had a moment of regretting her outfit, how little her dress covered, how much of her skin was exposed and rippling with goose bumps at his touch. His name was still fresh in the front of her mind, his scent, and he was close, too close, throwing her even more off-balance. Feyi planted a hand on his chest to stop herself from falling entirely against him.

“You’re touching me,” she complained.

It felt electric, small shocks shooting through her. Heat radiated off his body, and Feyi’s traitorous flesh responded, her pulse quickening.

Nasir smiled. “First of all, I’m helping you not fall off a building,” he answered. “Second of all”—and here he made a point of looking at her hand on his chest and dropping his voice a little —“you’re touching me.”

Feyi recovered her balance and took her hand off his chest. “There,” she said. “You can take your hand away now.” She wondered if he could tell that her breathing was a little too fast, her pupils stretching.

Nasir lifted his palm off her back, but only a little, leaving his fingertips grazing the skin over her spine. “Are you sure?” he asked, his words soft and playful.