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chivgf · 2 months

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One Last Time (pt. 1)

izogie x reader

summary: the mighty agojie attacked the men of your village. your husband, along with many other warriors died, but you and the women have a choice; join the agojie, or leave with nowhere to go. you choose to stay but are in no way prepared to find comfort in the same cold-blooded warrior who stuck her machete through your husband's heart. (Izogie calls reader a nickname throughout fic.)

warnings: violence/death (duh, if you scared you shoulda stayed tf home!), kinda fucked up romance given the fact that Izogie murdered your husband but she's just a girl. idk what other warnings i need to add so yeah just read it & i hope you enjoy enough to anticipate more parts possibly???

A/N: ik this part is kinda short but it's pretty much just an intro to this series, plus ive been working on this for months on end and i need to publish it before i start to despise it.

Spite and resentment consumed you as you watched your husband bleed out on the dirt. You remembered her face vividly. Sharp jawline, thick eyebrows and full-ish lips. Scars that could've created roads to walk on. Bursting out of your hut like a mad dog, you kneeled down over his weak body.

“Efosa!” you weeped. “Wake up, it is not the end! You must fight.” Tears streamed from your eyes like mini rivers. Your blood stained hands reached down into the sack on his belt and retrieved the wooden charm you gifted him before the war. You held it close to your chest and closed your eyes to avoid taking another glance at him. You could hear the metal clanking and battle cries cease.

“I will never forg--”

Before you could speak a last word to your husband, a hand grasped your shoulder firmly. Your body jerked and you turned slowly, afraid. It was her. There was a formerly healed scar on her eyebrow that appeared to have reopened during this fight.

“You have to come with us,” she spoke. Her eyes started on you, then moved to your husband. A disgusting smirk formed on her lips. She was proud to have killed him.

“I refuse to go anywhere with you! You are a monster. You find this amusing?” you spat at her. The smirk fell quickly.

“On your feet. We are taking you all to Dahomey.”

“My home is here. I am staying here.”

“I will not ask you again.”

“Good,” you replied, turning your focus back to Efosa.

Without a doubt, she stuck to her word. She aggressively snatched you up and threw you over her shoulder, taking you to the march line. You began kicking your feet and punching her back like a child throwing a tantrum. “Let me go!” you cried. “You killed my husband, you savage! Don't touch me!”

“If you continue to disobey me you will end up just like him,” she said without hesitation.

You were silenced. You stood quiet in line the entire march to Dahomey.

•••

“...any woman who does not wish to stay, is free to go.” General Nanisca ended her speech and watched many women make their exit. The woman from the battle was burning holes into you with her eyes, watching, waiting for you to crack and leave like a weakling. You refused to give her the satisfaction. You stared back into her brown eyes, clenching your jaw in nervousness.

“Let us move along then,” Amenza, Nanisca's most trusted warrior spoke. The intense eye contact was finally broken.

Moving further into the palace you were sent to sit with more experienced Agojie and wait for further instruction. You found yourself next to a woman with a small Afro and two braids on the sides of her head.

“They call me Desi, who are you?” she said as she studied you.

“Does it matter?”

“Mm, fair enough. Freed captive or Mahi?”

“Mahi,” you replied.

“Ah, I see.”

“Who is she?” you pointed as Nanisca, Amenza, and the husband slaughterer walked past.

“Izogie. Strongest warrior I know. Ran into trouble?” she asked, picking at her frighteningly sharp nails.

“You could say that.”

“My advice? Put it behind you. You will need her more than you will ever know.”

You nodded your head. She did seem strong. And smart. Perhaps you would need her. But you didn't want to think about that; for now she was still the same woman who ripped your life from you in a matter of minutes.

“Go and bathe yourselves, you know the drill,” Izogie boomed, walking to the area that you were in. You and Desi followed the other women heading to the baths, your hand in hers. An uneasy feeling consumed you as you felt Desi let go of your hand and walk at a swifter pace. “Eh-eh,” Izogie interrupted, grabbing your arm. Desi continued to scurry along. “Not you.”

You looked down at her hand. Her nails were like Desi's, only sharper and more deadly. Making matters worse, they were also digging into your skin. You whined at the pain a tad, but refused to say anything. When she finally released you, a little bit of blood slowly trailed down your glistening arm. You weren't sure if she even noticed. You covered the nail marks with your hand. “Have I done something?”

“Taken a liking to Desi I see.”

“Not necessarily.. she was informing me of the way things should work in advance.”

You impatiently awaited a response, but there wasn't one. She just stood over you, her frame completely blocking you from joining the others. You were micro compared to her, and she found it extremely amusing.

“If that is all, I'd like to go bathe now,” you croaked, breaking the silence. Her chuckle released some of the tension on her side, in turn building up some on yours. “Was there a joke?” you said, slightly irritated. She saw you as nothing but a pampered village wife, and you knew it. Izogie placed her hands on her knees and bent down to your level, once again reminding you of how small you are to her. Her face only inches away from yours, she whispered into your ear two simple words before walking away from the entire conversation.

“Be careful.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine as she made herself scarce. The scent of essential oils and incense lingered in the air, making you dizzy. Unsure of what she meant, you stumbled in confusion to the baths. There were many bodies taking up space in the water, but nowhere you looked was a familiar face. You scanned and scanned for Desi, your head still spinning a tad bit from your confusing conversation with Izogie. What about Desi was there to be careful about? She seemed sweet enough, no?

After a minute or two of searching for Desi, you found it pointless and decided to just bathe and get it over with. The steam from the warmth caused you to sweat as you let yourself sink into the water. You let out a small wince as a mix of the sweat and hot water grazed the nail imprint in your arm. “Ah!” you whimpered aloud, quickly looking around to make sure no one heard you. It was awkward to be alone in the baths with everyone speaking to people that they knew, so you found it easier to just close your eyes and pretend that you were alone, just like at home. You tuned out all of the loud voices and started humming a song to yourself, and finished up your bathing.

•••

You flapped out your mat lazily. It was your first day in the palace; no training yet, no nothing, yet you felt like you'd been worked half to death. The smell of palm oil and Jasmine floated in the air as you smoothed your mat out more and sat down on it. There were many women around you, some talking to absolutely no one, just like you. Still, you couldn't bring yourself to speak to anyone. You had no appetite at mealtime, and you weren't in the mood for sleep either.

Your thoughts of your late husband rang loudly in your ears. You had rarely ever been without him. He went to battle, yes, but he would always return safely to at least kiss you goodnight. Now, his caring and loving was simply just gone. Every part of you wished he was a ghost, haunting you in the sweetest ways. Brushing past you with a cold breeze when you feel alone, showing up in your dreams when your memories of him fade.

You found your restless body wandering around the dark palace. It was silent for the most part, besides the light and distant voices of the wives conversing in their quarters. It was surprisingly calming; the fires burning through the chilly night to warm you. After a while of aimlessly walking around, you started to hear faint noises. Your ears rang slightly as you strained to listen further. There was grunting and hacking, like someone was cutting down a tough tree. You followed the noises and a trail of sandal prints. The prints let you know this was none of the girls and women you had arrived with; this was someone who'd been settled.

Tiptoeing to the gate, you peeked around it curiously to find her.

Why couldn't you avoid her? What is her problem... What's yours?

You tried quickly to make yourself scarce from her, as she was equipped with her machete and swinging it angrily at the hay soldier ahead of her. Unfortunately for you, Izogie senses everything.

She tucked her machete in close to her and bent her knees in a defensive position. She continued to inch closer to you, asking, “Who is there?”

Low hung your head as you slowly revealed yourself to her.

“Ahh, it isYona.”

You looked up and raised a brow. “Yona?”

“Dove. You are meek and gentle; far too passive to make it here.” She placed her machete gently back into her scabbard and folded her arms. You rolled your eyes and sighed deeply. You knew you were not a warrior, but where else would a Mahi woman go in Dahomey? You could only live off of the streets for so long. Stepping closer, she followed your wandering eyes with her head. “Look at me,” Izogie demanded.

“I am not a dove,” you spat. You raised your head to meet her eyes. “I can do this, I will survive here.”

“Mm,” she nodded and retrieved her machete. “Show me.”

It was scary, to say the absolute least. Never in your life had you touched a weapon with intention to use it. Not even for defense. You reached out, your hands grazing her sharp nails once again. Recalling the moment those same nails broke through your skin sent a chill down your spine, but you managed to mask it. Holding the machete tightly in a fist, you bent down low like you'd seen your husband do in training.

“Swing it.”

“At what target?” you inquired studying the four hay soldiers to your left.

“Me.”

Your heart dropped. You didn't want to hurt anyone. Maybe that was your problem; you weren't willing to put anyone's life at stake, even if your own depended on it. Not to mention, Izogie is not only second-in-command, but has much experience. You don't have an ounce. A lump formed in your throat, but you swallowed it and moved closer, still low in position.

“Are you sure?”

“Yona, you would not ask the enemy such questions. Show me that you are a warrior. Show me that you have what it takes.”

You shut your eyelids tightly, took a breath, then studied her. Her eyes, to be specific. Efosa used to say, “The weakness is in the eyes,” but you could not find it. There was a strange coldness that she carried in her gaze; never breaking, never shifting.

“I've got all night,” she taunted, motioning for you to bring it on.

You noticed the same smirk on her face from when she stood over you, her blood covered hand on your arm. Blood that belonged to your husband. Anger consumed you as your breathing started to pick up. You gripped the machete tighter and began to follow her movements. After a minute of mirroring her, you took your first swing. It was wild, but you didn't care all that much. She dodged swiftly by an inch. Watching the fire from the torches dance on her face, you slid on the dirt and took another wild swing, this time at her lower half, cutting a gash in her clothing and her lower thigh. She let out a dry grunt but stayed focused on dodging your relentless jabbing and swatting with the weapon.

Your eyes were mad and fierce, your fury practically burning your skin. Izogie lunged forward at you, grabbing hold of both of your wrists with just one of her hands.

“That is enough, Yona.”

You pretended not to hear her and continued to struggle to get loose. The look in her eyes changed from demand to worry as she disarmed you and tossed the machete to the side. Still you fought, grabbing at her shoulders and taking her to the ground. It was like your body was moving way ahead of your brain. Izogie quickly overpowered you and climbed on top of you, pinning your wrists down near your head. You felt restless and weak underneath her.

“Enough!”

Her voice echoed in your ears as your vision started to get blurry and dark.

•••

“No, Miganon, what she needs is food. She hasn't laid one finger on anything since her arrival,” Izogie complained.

Nanisca scoffed and leaned over you.

“Take that up with her. She is awake now.”

You quickly scanned your surroundings. You lie on a highly elevated mat in a tent. There were weaponry decorations everywhere, a horn made of elephant tusk, and a pot of indigo dye. This was Izogie's personal tent.

Izogie watched from the tent's entrance as you took in everything. As you slowly locked eyes with her, you two exchanged no words. Your face carried a look of shame, remembering the actions that led up to this moment, while hers carried a look of guilt and concern. You keep your actions were irrational, especially since you would have to fight alongside her from now on, but you couldn't bare the pain of staring in the cold eyes of you husband's murderer.

Izogie took a breath before finally moving closer and speaking up.

“How..”

There was an odd change in her voice, was it hesitance that you heard?

“How are are you feeling?”

Your initial thought was to give her the silent treatment, but you decided against it and answered her question.

“I've been better,” you replied weakly. Your stomach growled, and you wondered if it was just as loud to the outside world as it was in your head. Clutching your torso, you tried to sit up for a second.

“Woah, careful,” Izogie rushed over and supported your back, holding you upright. She shook her head at her own actions. Why was she going out of her way to make sure you were alright after you...

Something clicked. You forgot that you'd injured her during your little explosion. You grabbed hold of her forearm with both hands and leaned over the mat. There on her thigh. That laceration you created. Pain inflicted on her, of your doing. Even after everything she'd done, you couldn't shake the feeling that she didn't fully deserve that. War is war, sides are sides. None of it was in her control, and it wasn't personal. You had to keep reminding yourself of that to get by.

Your head felt extremely heavy, but you still managed to pick it up to look at her. “I apologize,” you murmured. She looked down at her thigh, then back at you.

“I've had worse, trust me.”

The tent fell silent for a few moments before she spoke again.

“You should eat something.”

A nod from you was enough to send her straight out of the tent without hesitation, and when she returned, in her palms rested a fresh bowl of stew. The smell made your mouth water.

“Don't just stare, eat up.”

She passed you the bowl and leaned against one of the wooden posts set up in the tent. She watched you as if she was obligated to; as if she didn't have other things to tend to. You began to dig into the food she brought, completely ignoring the fact that her eyes never once left you. There was a deep regret tracing her face as you felt her presence move closer to you. Slurping the remains of the stew and wiping your lips, you looked to your side in curiosity. Her right hand was fidgeting with something in her beltsack nervously before she started to tell you something.

“You dropped this,” she presented you with Efosa's wooden charm. “..during the fight.”

You dropped the empty bowl immediately and grasped for the charm, your hands shaking as you turned it every which way to make sure nothing had happened to it. A great sigh of relief escaped your fragile frame. What would you have done if you'd lost it?

“I carved this myself, you know,” you told her, a tear forming in your waterline.

“It is very..”

Izogie grappled to find the right words, practically walking on eggshells so that she wouldn't trigger anymore negative emotions.

“It takes skill to create something like that.”

You let out a dry chuckle. The irony was too much for you to handle.

“What about your skill? What techniques work best for you when you leave your tent prepared to take a life?”

“I leave with intent to protect, not to kill, Yona. The Agojie are not just cold-blooded murderers, you must understand-”

You cut her off. “Save it. No words will remove that sight from my mind. How can you do something like that, then pretend it never happened? Tell me how, Izogie!”

“This is my life! I cannot change his fate, and for that I apologize, but you have no right to fault me when he, too, was rushing at me with a machete in his grip. He was trained not to stop until his target was down, as was I. Tell me, Yona, was I supposed to stand there and die? What else could I have done in such a situation?!” she raised her voice, slightly losing her breath after her statement.

She paced back and forth, her nails scratching her chin softly while she tried to think of what else to say as best she could.

“I am sorry! How many times must I repeat it until you forgive me?” she mumbled, her voice lessening to a whisper. In the short amount of time you'd been there, you'd taken note that every one of these warriors looked up to Izogie. They spoke of her as though she was some sort of unmovable force, yet you, in all your physical weakness, moved her with such ease.

“I don't know if I can.”

At your words, Izogie nodded and peeled back the entrance of the tent, clenching her jaw before removing herself. The sound of her footsteps retreating left an uncertain reaction in your body; you weren't quite sure if you wanted her to stay or not. The words she spoke to you were circulating through your mind, and you couldn't help but feel like she made a point. Before you could swim around in your mind for too long, you heard the tent open up once more. Expecting Izogie, you felt a pang of hope creep in, but it was just Desi, holding wildflowers.

“What's this?” you laughed, hands outstretched to receive the flowers she was handing you.

“I picked them myself, by the river. I figured you would appreciate some color,” Desi smiled sweetly, the new wooden beads attached to her two braids clanking in the wind. “That is very kind, Desi.”

She nodded. “The palace whispers, you know? About you.”

“Oh? What do they say?” you asked as you propped yourself up to listen better.

“They whisper that you were the cause of that cut on Izogie's leg; they also whisper that you are aiming for high ranks. They say that General Nanisca is next in your movement. Is it true?”

A snort escaped your nose; you'd never heard something so absurd.

“You cannot be serious. There is no movement, it was a simple fight,” you clarified firmly.

“I see, so you are just another palace myth?” she chuckled, but you didn't find anything funny. You shook your head and rubbed your temples.

“I am not in the mood for jokes,” you stated. You turned over on your mat and faced away from her. “You may leave, thank you for the flowers.”

“But I have just-”

Desi was interrupted by something. Rather, someone. You flipped back over to see why exactly she'd stopped talking so abruptly mid sentence. A tall familiar figure loomed over her shorter frame, its hand on her shoulder.

“I believe you were asked to leave.”

Izogie guided her out of the tent and walked to her weapon stand. You noted that her legs and hands were drenched in water as she placed her scabbard on the stand and removed her sandles, tossing them to the side.

“You are back,” you stated plainly, a pinch of relief lacing your words.

“Well yes, this is my tent.”

Facing away from you, she continued to dress down into clothing that provided more comfort for sleep. You couldn't help but watch, unable to fathom how one could be so rough around the edges, yet so graceful in every movement she makes.

“You are wet,” you added on top of your previous statement, your eyes still glued to her. She finally turned to face you. You'd never noticed how pretty she really is. You suppose nobody talks about things like that all that much in the palace unless speaking of Ghezo's wives, but Izogie was genuinely a good-looking woman in your eyes. You'd never blatantly admit that though, no.

“Any other observations you would like to voice before I lay down to rest?” she responded in an exhausted tone. She reached behind her stand and pulled out an extra mat, much more shabby than the one you were laying on.

A sigh escaped your lips before you shook your head no and spoke up again.

“Is that for me?”

“Do you really think that I would force you to-”

She stopped herself to take a grounding breath.

“I am not the monster you think I am, Yona.”

And those were her last words to you that night.

#angst #izogie x reader #the woman king #izogie

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chivgf · 3 months

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this part had me and my bsf FUCKED ALLLLL THE WAY UP. nothing can explain the feeling both of us had when we finished it. it was silent asf otp for a little bit because we were just processing everything that happened but long story short: lyric's writing brings out emotions and reactions in me that i was not aware i could show like that. when i usually read it's pretty quiet because i read in my head.. let me be reading mtis.

“oh my fucking gosh Zariyah leave me aloneeeee 💔”

“girl keem fuck you.”

“wait a minute why she touching me?”

ANYWHO... lyric this fic is my life. take your time but dont take too long now 🥰!

More Than I Should {pt. 4}

pairing: riri ✘ black!fem!reader

summary: consistency is the cornerstone of your relationships: hakeem consistently cares for you, while riri consistently... scorns you. you had grown accustomed to her disdain, even made your peace with it. but when her behavior suddenly softens, confusion takes root, unearthing feelings you thought yourself incapable of.

word count: 12.4k

chapter contents: mild sexual/suggestive content (hakeem x reader), reader is EXTREMELY repressed, flirting, riri and her unyielding staring problem, hakeem being clueless and sweet (his downfall), zariyah is messy!, reader is over riri's shit, riri is starting to lose restraint, hostile altercation with a man, riri defends reader (her girl, her girl, her girl), reader has mommy issues, riri being desperate

tags: @kisskourt @dejaonline @prettymrswright @vixentheplanet @sapphicvqmpires @astroeliza @uhwhatsay @blackgcomica @6-noir @ctrleuphoria @quintessencewrites @pvnks0ul @fentibeauty @ririshotgf @idkijjustlovethisapp @naijagrl @onyxstones-world

divider by: @firefly-graphics

note: omg we are so back! hello my lovelies, i've missed you so very much. and i am truly sorry it's taken me over a year to update this fic. i took a break because i kinda lost my interest in writing for the fandom for a little while. but it's slowly coming back! i basically forced myself to pick the pen back up, and it worked because i love this chapter a lot. and now y'all can stop yelling at me like omg i'm just a girl! remember this is a SLOW BURN, emphasis on SLOW, but things are definitely picking up lol. reader is realizing some things and she is struggling, i love putting my characters through it hehe. shouts out to my baby @kisskourt for letting me yap to them about all my thoughts and tings, i love youss! but anyway! i hope y'all enjoy and stick around for the next part! mwah mwah!

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There were fingers scaling your exposed spine, supple lips hugging your throat tenderly, leaving warm kisses in their wake as you responded with the single sound your body allowed: a meek whimper.

Hakeem's fingers; his lips.

The two of you were in his bed, your legs knotted around his waist with his back flush against the headboard. Your boyfriend was the proud proprietor of wandering hands, and you permitted their roaming about your body, allowing the pads of his digits to spike the temperature on your already searing skin.

“You don't know how much I missed this, baby girl.” He spoke into your flesh, painting your neck with his decree. It was all so intense—the pressure of his mouth on you. The licking, the sucking, the biting. Significantly more impassioned than anything you were accustomed to, the sensations arising in you as unfamiliar as they were unsettling.

Being perched in his lap made you privy to his swelling bulge underneath you, and you could clearly tell the rehearsed rut of your hips served only as an amplifier for his existing arousal.

Arousal. You pondered the word and its meaning, how you weren't sure if it was this you experienced now, or if you'd ever experienced it in the way you should have for that matter. Hakeem was panting into your mouth as he kissed you, moaning each time you brushed up against him just right. He was enjoying himself.

Were you?

You should be. You should be moaning and panting, just as he was. Feeling his breath hit your skin should be dizzying, the sounds of his grunts all consuming.

But when his hand climbed up, eager to undo the clasps of your bra, you could not combat the overwhelming need for it all to–

“Stop!” The command flew from your lungs faster than anticipated—more defensive than intended. Hakeem did not hesitate to heed though, his hands and lips levitated from your body, leaving you in a state of undress despite your clothes remaining.

His stormy eyes scanned your face, inquiring an answer you could not provide.

“I’m sor–” You began, unmounting him to sit at the edge of the bed as you chose to recoil from his concerned touch.

But Hakeem shook his head at you, he wouldn't allow that. He forced you to face him, tilting your chin ever so gently with his pointer finger. And it astonished you, when your remorseful eyes rose to catch his. There lived no hurt in his own eyes, not even the smallest drop of disappointment hidden behind his earthy brown irises.

Yet you studied his face still, searching, wanting, hoping to discover the slightest bit of resentment sculpted into his perfect features, because that would make the most sense to you. Hadn't you slighted him? Hadn't you deserved his anger? You led him on, for the umpteenth time, he would be justified in his upset.

But you found nothing of the sort amidst your scouring. Instead you happened upon reassurance in his stoic eyes; reassurance that only heightened your guilt the longer you stared at him.

“Don't apologize.” He sighed, large hands moving swiftly to cup your cheeks. “It's okay if you're not ready.”

“It's not that I’m not– I-I know that I told you I was, but I–”

Hakeem’s mouth twitched into a small smile, and that hurt too, more so than his concern. “You're not and that's okay.”

How fortunate were you, you thought. You had a boyfriend who was considerate about your apprehension, even though he so obviously did not understand it. Not even you understood your hesitancy. Hakeem was safe, and Hakeem was gentle. This should be an easy decision made.

God how you wished it was easy. You wanted to have sex, you were ready, you told him you were, so why couldn't you just do your part?

Why couldn't you just be ready?

“It's not fair…to you.” You confessed, frowning.

“I don't know how many times I gotta tell you it's okay before you believe me. I ain't trippin.” You watched him, suspicious as he sported an easy grin that hurried your heart, waiting for the impending snark that surely crept close behind. “I mean, I do got a right hand for a reason.”

Hakeem wiggled his fingers mischievously in your face, his action a clear attempt at lifting your spirits, and of course it worked, because why would it not?

You feigned a scoff, struggling to conceal your laughter at his predictably lewd jester, “You're lame, and you're disgusting.”

“I promise I can show you disgusting whenever you decide to let me.” His chuckle escaped him, deep and dark when it engulfed you, purposeful in its entrapping, and you felt your throat dry at his words.

His willful gaze was on you, awaiting your reaction, no doubt with a smirk tugging on his dimples. You knew his game all too well, knew his goal. Hakeem was nothing if not a tease, and he was certainly banking on his unforeseen comment flustering you. Which it did indeed, you were as stiff as the hard on in his pants right now, embarrassed and unwilling to move, but he needed not know that part.

“Oh my god, Hakeem!” You used his boisterous laughter as a means to release some of the tension in your bones, though your cheeks remained on fire, the heat lingering behind with your everlasting mortification. Who else besides yourself would react in such a way when it came to sex? Sex with a person you trusted no less.

He would never admit it, but you knew Hakeem saw you as a prude. You thought like a prude, behaved like one too, so what other conclusion was there to be drawn?

“I’m just saying.” He laughed again. You tried matching his lighthearted spirit, pressing your lips into an artificial smile, but the action proved difficult seeing as your inexperience happened to be the butt of the joke. Well, at least it seemed that way to you. But you knew Hakeem, and his intentions could never—would never align with that sentiment.

Amidst your overthinking, you felt the dip in the twin mattress deepen, heard it creek as Hakeem scooted his body fully onto the bed again, taking with him his warmth and the comfort it provided.

“You so damn–” You playfully shifted to face him, assuming you’d find your boyfriend still grinning back at you. But, the sight you happened upon was not one anticipated. “Hakeem what are you doing?”

Your widening eyes drifted reluctantly from his face, traveling down, down, down his perspiring chest, to his sculpted abs, his happy trail. Truthfully, you were attempting every tactic in the book, all in the name of avoidance. You wanted desperately to avert your eyes from their inevitable destination, where Hakeem fiddled with the strings of his sweats, for as long as time would allow.

“Bout to use that right hand I just told you about.”

“Uh, okay, but why are you doing that now, while I'm still here?” Gone was any semblance of a smile you managed to plaster on. Your body temperature spiked in tandem with your pulsating heart, and you sensed a slow panic inching up the back of your neck.

“What? You seen it before.” Hakeem deadpanned.

He was unbelievable, absolutely unbelievable. “Yeah by accident, are you kidding me?!”

“You got me all hot and bothered, I gotta do something to get rid of this.” Hakeem gestured to his still concealed erection.

“You're serious?” It took a second to overcome your state of shock, but the very instant you returned to reality, registering that your boyfriend had indeed possessed plans to pleasure himself with you still in the room, you were on your feet. You retrieved your top, preparing to book it straight out the door, your obvious discomfort a mere mystery to the clueless boy in front of you. “I-I’m leaving.”

Hakeem awarded you an unbothered shrug, almost moaning to himself as you watched his digits disappear beneath the band of his underwear. “That's fine, but can you sway your hips a lil bit on your way out? I need something to work with.”

You scoffed in utter disbelief, tossing a pair of socks at him before opening and slamming the bedroom door shut. Once on the other side, you planted your back up against the cool wood and exhaled, long and deep. You were calmer now, felt safer, with the newly established distance between yourself and your boyfriend’s manhood.

•••

Cleaning always eased your mind, existing as a necessary escape with the passing of time. This was particularly true during your upbringing. Whenever you found yourself at odds with your sister, or tormented by your mother, you’d look to elicit comfort from your chores. A manufactured method of coping, that, when compared to your many others, seemed healthy enough.

And it informed the state you stood in now: annoyed, and wrist deep in a sink of dirty dishes.

Busying yourself with your boyfriend's uncompleted housework was never a responsibility you readily took on, but it supplied a distraction from the disturbing alternative: eavesdropping on Hakeem's alone time.

Hakeem wasn't a slob, but he was still a boy, one gifted with entirely too much independence, so the condition of his apartment was not at all startling. You just wished the mess before you had been a little less obnoxious.

Accompanying the plates and cereal bowls in the sink were empty pizza boxes stacked near the trash can, crumbs occupying the stove, countertops, and kitchen floor. If questioned, he'd undoubtedly place blame on his roommate, which wasn't unrealistic, just more so unbelievable.

You held a sponge in one hand, strangled a fork in the other, and your music blasted on the tv. A desperate attempt to stifle the low grunts escaping the bedroom beside you, but alas, there was only so much drowning out Kehlani could do on their own. Her voice carried, sure, however the apartment was way too small, and the walls way too thin, so the assistance seemed to be in vain.

Maybe if you turned on the vacuum…

It wasn't as though Hakeem was loud, but his sounds were prominent enough, echoing in your ears. The simple fact that you could hear him brought you only discomfort. You were keenly aware of your habit to fixate on the little things, blow them out of proportion, and that was probably the case now. You knew you didn't need to justify not wanting to be present while your boyfriend masturbated in the next room, and yet, you found yourself attempting to do just that.

Perhaps he was right; you were not as ready for sex as you previously thought yourself to be. You just wished that you could handle the situation with some sort of normalcy, instead of drowning in the currents curating your thoughts, and viciously attacking the paint on the walls.

You huffed dryly to yourself, realizing that your chosen method of decompression and distraction was doing everything but.

“You didn't have to help me clean up baby, I was gon get it done before everybody got here.”

Your back was to the bedroom now, so the unexpected sound of Hakeem’s baritone forwarded you into a mild panic. You dropped the spray bottle you previously held and turned abruptly, becoming acquainted with his signature inviting grin.

“W-What?”

He chuckled a bit before responding, amused by your startled demeanor, “I said, you didn't have to clean up. I was planning to do it before everybody got here anyway.”

“Oh, uh, I didn't mind. I wanted to, the dishes were–” You narrowed your eyes curiously, “Wait, what you mean before everybody got here?”

Hakeem trekked over to the refrigerator that you'd just wiped down, and you watched, in utter disgust as his right hand extended for the handle. He opened the door to grab some grapes, and then he was facing you again. “I ain't tell you? I’m having some people over just to chill and stuff.”

God, did he even wash his– You decided you would sleep better at night if the answer remained a mystery, and you instead, chose to finally tune in to his words, “You're having a party.” You stated matter of factly, trying to conceal your soured expression. But if Hakeem’s reaction were to serve as any indication, it was a feat unsuccessful.

“No no no, not a party! It's like a…social gathering, yeah!” He snapped proudly, “It's not gon be like last time, I promise baby girl. And youn have to stay, if you not comfortable I mean. I know I’m still working to regain your trust, so I-I just wanted you to know that.”

Sincerity laced his words, and his smile.

All you could do was roll your eyes; you were annoyed, but your irritation could not trump your curiosity about the guest list. “And who all finna be at this social gathering?”

Hakeem began listing a slew of vaguely familiar names, but you; you were only concerned about one name in particular.

“My roommate Callum, one of his friends, can't remember his name, Riri, obviously, and…”

And at the ring of it, your ears perked, your cheeks flamed, and every other sound faded into the background.

Once again, that internal battle arose inside you, that incessant need to rationalize your reaction. You were still mad at Riri, you didn't wish to speak to her, and surely she possessed no desire to speak to you, especially considering that her last attempt to do so failed oh so miserably.

You were probably the furthest thing from her deeply complicated and tortured mind, so why had she been at the forefront of your own?

You sighed, not only were you meant to sort out your conflicting feelings about the intimacy issues you faced with your boyfriend, but now, your brain was also making it difficult to ignore the confusing ones pertaining to his best friend.

•••

You don't have to stay. Technically, you weren't even invited, so why would you want to stay? You do not have to stay. The mantra you repeated in your head, a mantra that would perhaps become your reality the longer Riri took to walk through that front door.

People began arriving about two hours ago, and from the looks of things, each foretold guest had already been in attendance. All except the one you anticipated the most. Riri's tardiness was not unlike her, in fact, it was rather predictable, and at this point you weren't even sure she would still be coming. She despised parties, from what you gathered. And besides, why should her absence be a concern of yours anyway? She still hadn't awarded you with a proper apology.

Did you even still want one? What good would it do? It wasn't like an apology would erase all the terrible things she's said and done—it wouldn't make you friends. Riri didn't like you, that was still a known fact, was it not?

You wished desperately for your brain to shut up. All these thoughts, each and every one about a girl not worth your time. Why? Why must she remain a plague—contagious and inescapable—infecting each corner of your mind?

You stood in the kitchen, expecting eyes trained on the door, widening each time it would open. Only to be showered in shame and disappointment each time a new arrival proved not to be Riri.

She wasn't coming, and that was to be a good thing. If she were, she’d be–

“Shit Ri, I thought you wasn't coming no more.” They were Hakeem’s words, his voice, yet you couldn't seem to place him in the apartment, though, you weren't trying to.

Your focus had been entirely captured by the massive head of curls strutting through the front door. You blinked, certain your eyes were deceiving you, only to find out that the image before you was in fact not one conjured by your imagination.

Riri had taken her braids down, making her fro impossible to miss.

Her curls were untamed; ferocious; practically swallowing her whole. So big, so bold, so…beautiful. They demanded attention—your attention—and you agreed to their command, bereft of demur. Your eyes stalked her as she maneuvered deeper into the apartment, committing every aspect of this new look to memory. Red looked good on her, you thought. The color of her Bulls jersey, combined with the cascading rays of the setting Sun, enhanced the deepness of her complexion.

You couldn't take your eyes off her, not for a lack of trying. But Riri, she had not noticed you, or perhaps, it was her plan not to acknowledge you even if she had been aware of your presence. Typical. Yet still, you found yourself holding your breath hostage as her head began a slow turn, and her curls bounced, seemingly in your direction, hypnotizing you.

You ignored your chest's tightening, bracing yourself for the impact that was Riri’s hot gaze, anticipating its linger as it often did.

But it never came.

Riri’s eyes flew past you, almost intentionally, and over her shoulder to the long legs making their way past the threshold.

“My bad Keem, it's my fault she's late.” And before your brain had time to place the voice, your eyes landed on a crown of flames resting atop a dazzling face.

Zariyah.

“Cause yo ass can't never just be ready on time.” Riri deadpanned with an annoyed eye roll.

Zariyah was quick to retort, “Riri, ima need you to shut the fuck up before you make me embarrass you in front of your friends.” She concluded with a tight lipped smile, adjusting her top in the process.

The base in her voice echoed in your chest, overpowering the music playing in the background. Truthfully, you were shocked. You’d never heard anyone speak to Riri that way, even more baffling, you’d never imagine her innate reaction to be compliance. It was kind of unsettling, seeing her so unperturbed by Zariyah's belittlement.

This version of Riri was unrecognizable, and frankly, you were offended for her. But, as you panned the room, it seemed as though you remained alone in those feelings, to your dismay. Not a single face contorted in shock or surprise.

You were still scanning the room when you sensed it, a stare easily identified. Gradually your eyes began to wander, in search of the pair currently fixated on you. Riri seemed taken aback when your eyes locked, as though she had not expected you to notice her staring. To be fair, you did not want to notice, but she wasn't exactly being discreet about it, and once you felt her stare on your person, ignoring it was akin to setting yourself ablaze.

So you gave in, and you stared back at her from your planted post in the kitchen. Riri had her arm snaked around Zariyah's waist, utterly uninterested in the conversation happening around her. At the moment, you seemed to be her only focus, and mutually, she was yours.

You could never get a read on her. Each of her actions contradicted the ones preceding it. Like now, she tugged Zariyah in closer, all whilst continuing to inspect you. You couldn't tell if she was checking you out, or showing off her girlfriend.

Seeing them this close took you back to the day you were first made aware of Zariyah's existence, and the onslaught of thoughts and feelings the imagery brought on, feelings that were far too intrusive and confusing to unpack.

Zariyah was speaking to Hakeem about God knows what, never leaving Riri’s side for the duration of the conversation. Whatever they were talking about must've been engaging enough, because she remained entirely unaware of the ongoing staring match happening between you and the shorter girl attached to her hips.

The longer you kept watch of the pair, you began noticing similarities in their outfits. Zariyah’s top had accents of red that complemented Riri's jersey, and she wore a gold necklace that mirrored Riri’s, but with a “Z” instead of an “R.” They were matching, in such a subtle way. The coordination only made obvious to one paying the utmost attention, which apparently you were.

“So you not gon introduce me to yo girl Keem?” That statement knocked you out of your head.

You blinked, declaring your defeat in the competition, and upon reopening your eyes, you found there were two new sets focused on you. Riri hadn't looked away—and now—her girlfriend—and your boyfriend had joined in on the ogling.

You felt as though you were on display, like a brand new exhibit being unveiled to the public. You didn't know what to say, what to do as they continued to stare. So you stood there, awkwardly praying someone would speak first before you had to. Riri was smirking, acutely aware of the discomfort you felt, holding zero plans to ease it.

“Aww, she's shy.” Zariyah cooed, like you were some sort of child in need of encouragement. “Come over here cutie.”

And before you had a chance to protest, you were walking towards the three of them with haste. You thought back to the way Zariyah spoke to Riri earlier, understanding now, that her adherence was indeed not a choice—the red haired girl was simply entitled to obedience—yours included.

“You don't speak?” Zariyah questioned, with a curious head tilt, her tone made sultry on purpose. She peered over at you through dramatic lashes, and you choked embarrassingly.

Your lips were agape like a fish. You were floundering, praying your brain would stop short circuiting long enough to provide the skills necessary to hold a conversation. How was it that a girl so foreign to you, held all the power to render you speechless?

“Any other time she don't know how to shut up.” Riri muttered. That fucking smirk, were you the only one seeing it, oh my god.

Your eye roll was unavoidable, which your boyfriend caught. “Aye Ri, chill.”

“Yeah Ri, chill.” Zariyah echoed mockingly with a smirk of her own. They both had their eyes on you now, watching you intently with similar intensity, and your body knew not how to respond.

“Come here, sit next to me, let's chat.” And Zariyah took your hand, guiding you to the couch. You still hadn't spoken, but off you went with her, unwilling to look behind you. You already knew the sight you would be greeted with: Riri, fuming as she was made to watch the girl she arrived with saunter off hand in hand with you of all people.

The thought made you smile a little. You still had the upper hand. Truthfully, there was no reason for you to think otherwise. She sought you out last week to offer an “apology”, albeit a garbage one. And you didn't accept, which in the moment, seemed to stump the young genius.

Now, you held the attention of the girl she most revered. You were winning. Fantastic, you thought—it was time Riri Williams learned you were not one to be fucked with.

•••

“So you're an engineering major too?” Riy (she insisted you call her that) asked, tucking one of your crimson locs behind your ear.

You bit your lip and nodded, “Mhmm. I’ve always liked to keep my hands busy, started when I was a kid as a distraction from life and shit. The math I just picked up along the way.”

“You and Ri are so alike, she's good with her hands too. Building shit I mean.” She giggled, deliberately glancing over at a stoic looking Riri. “But, her hands ain't as pretty as yours.”

Zariyah reached for your palm, threading her fingers through yours with zero effort, and you forced an exhale. You admired the way her sharp stilettos looked wrapped around your own, reveled in the feel of her hand in yours. The more she spoke, the more enraptured you became with the curves of her perfectly lined lips. Seeing her tattoos up close seemed otherworldly, and it took fighting every muscle in your body not to reach out and touch.

“You think so?” You responded, head cocked to the side.

Her teeth; so perfect; so straight, and that golden bead sitting pretty in the center of her tongue. What on earth were you to do with the excitement elicited by that?

You loved getting to know her, even if the act had begun as a ploy to get under Riri’s skin. A ploy that proved fruitful, might you add.

She was ducked off in a corner of the living room: silent, still, watching. Though the Sun had begun a sluggish decline, a glow was still present enough for you to see her in the room, and Riri most certainly saw you.

You kept hold of Zariyah’s hand, allowing your eyes to glance Riri’s way. Her face remained expressionless, but her disposition was very discernable. Uncertainty was simmering in your gut, reminding you of your ongoing trudge through uncharted waters.

It would be unwise to continue testing Riri in this way, yet despite your apprehension, you could not locate your actual desire to stop. So you didn't. Riri was already reacting; the damage already done, what sense would it make to retreat now? Clearly, your only option here was to best her, right?

Her anger was nothing short of tangible, and by the way Riy leaned in closer, it was evident she felt it too. “Yup. Yours are way softer too.” Zariyah blinked. “I like that.”

Large, dark eyes fixated on your face, holding your stare, causing you to shudder inwardly. Her face was mere inches away, the heat radiating off her creating a desperate union with yours. You were going to keep it together, you had to, despite your incessant desire to crumble the longer Zariyah kept watch of you, because—you still remained the main focus of Riri’s death glare.

“I’m happy to know that my soft hands have your attention, Zariyah.” You bit your lip again, eyes flickering briefly to the seething scientist, “I am intrigued as to why that is though.”

Your confidence was nothing more than a performance. God, you barely recognized yourself now. Truly, who were you? Antagonizing Riri by undeniably flirting with her girlfriend, all whilst your own boyfriend remained clueless in the same room.

Hakeem wasn't even a concern in the forefront of your mind if you were being honest; your previous engagement made an afterthought the second his best friend waltz through the front door. It all seemed so insignificant now, your obsessing over your sex life, or rather the lack thereof.

What did concern you though, was the ease in which you were able to keep up with Zariyah's flirting, and the magnitude of which you enjoyed it. You’d barely flirted this much with Hakeem throughout the duration of your relationship. The incentive was never present.

Riy leaned forward, her full lips dangerously near, the disappearing distance between them and yours sure to crack your façade. She was so close now, so determined as her eyes drifted Riri’s way.

She turned her attention back to you with a sly smile. And her mouth kept coming towards you until it met your ear, then she exhaled, the lusty blow of air sending a tingle up your spine, and you froze. “You tryna find out?” She whispered without skipping a beat.

Her voice was low, an intrusive murmur that sent you spiraling. Zariyah's breath caressed your ear willfully. If your brain had been short circuiting before, the poor thing must've been utterly destroyed now, far beyond repair.

You swallowed, “A-And what if I am?” You did not intend to say that out loud, but your thoughts seemed more in control of your body now than you were. Yet still, you did not feel the need to take it back.

You had to remind yourself; you were only doing this to spite Riri. You wanted to piss her off, because she deserved it.

But if that were the case, why did you feel so alive right now? Why were you still holding tight to Zariyah's hand, with no plans of letting her go? Her lips hovered in front of yours minutes ago, a moment suspended in time, and you'd managed to convince yourself a kiss was afoot. What reason did you have to believe so? And why had you been prepared for it to happen?

Riri was pissed, your plan worked, so why were you finding it difficult to give Zariyah up?

You were only managing to steer yourself into a state of panic. All these impure thoughts—they were not natural—they were not you. Your heart pounded in your heated sternum, like a runaway train with no breaks, threatening to derail itself the longer you were made to sit and process what you felt.

Zariyah’s hand had become an unpleasant weight in yours now, sweaty and sticky from the prolonged grip. And she was aware of it, cocking her eyebrow to the ceiling when you yanked yourself free of her with defensive gusto. She only smirked, so maniacally, so swiftly, causing you to gulp. She knew the effect she had on you, your body and your mind, and she was aware of your internal struggle with resisting her.

You were slowly learning that everything about this girl's existence was intentional, simply from the way she looked at you now, wordless as she peered deep into your cowering soul with those shadowy, seduction stacked eyes. Zariyah could destroy you, here, now, if it were her wish. And God help you, you would permit it.

Her eyes pandered to Riri, and so did yours, not without reluctance of course. Her curls shielded her eyes, but you could tell the straight line across Riri’s face had been one constructed to convey ennui. Zariyah did too, which was why she cracked a smile, biting her lip triumphantly when finally, her actions bullied Riri straight out of Hakeem's apartment.

And it all clicked then, just as Riri slammed the door shut. You were too distracted to recognize what was happening before, by Riri, by her girlfriend. But now, it was made obvious. Whilst you played a pathetic game of checkers, Zariyah played chess, and both yourself and Riri were her pawns.

She was meticulous in the way she manipulated you, which explained your behavior, and your confusing feelings. She possessed the strategy you lacked, subtly guiding you into her traps, orchestrating your responses, all for the same result you wanted to garner. She wanted Riri snarling, and how silly were you to believe you were the one responsible for evoking that emotion out of the Chicago native?

There was a clear winner here, and she knew it was her title to claim. Zariyah noted your frown of comprehension, “Aww, cheer up babe, you really helped me out today. I really appreciate that, y’ know?”

As if you needed more reason to feel utterly embarrassed.

You watched her fix her hair next to you, and reapply her lip gloss in her camera. She was so unbothered by everything around her, whereas you couldn't help but hone in on it all. The betrayal you felt, it cut you deeper than it should. You seriously believed Zariyah sought friendship from you.

“You used me to make Riri jealous? Why?” You asked, genuinely wanting an explanation.

She shrugged, “To get my lick back.”

“But why me? You don't even know me. A-And Riri doesn't even care about me.”

Riy laughed, placing a hand on your shoulder, “You're funny. I knew I actually liked you.” She twirled one of your locs around her finger before looking you in the eye, “Look, I really am sorry I got you mixed up in my shit with Riri, seriously, but I saw an opportunity and I took it. Nothing personal. Besides, not like you wasn't doing the same thing, right?”

Your eyes widened, dumbfounded by her very…true accusation. Was this girl indeed all knowing? You stuttered, searching your brain for a believable response, but Zariyah put a stop to that with a single finger pressed to your lips. “You're stuttering, which makes me think you're gonna lie, and although I do think you're cute, I don't think you know how to lie very well, so let's save it, hmm? You had your reasons, I had mine.”

She got up soon after, alerting you she was headed to the bathroom as you sat there, defeated.

When you looked up, Hakeem was walking your way just as Zariyah began her departure, his previous engagement with a game of beer pong long abandoned. “Riy, Ima need you to stop flirting with my girl, Ion like that shit.”

“Why? You scared Ima take her from you?” Zariyah stood behind the couch, her wink kick starting the engine in your chest.

By this time, Hakeem was plopped beside you, arm around your exposed waist, snaking you closer, the position much similar to the hold Riri held her girl in when they’d first arrived. “Yes nigga. I know the typa time you be on.” His tone was light; playful; but for some reason, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was to be legitimate concern on his part.

“This bathroom better be clean when I go in there Hakeem, I ain't playing with you.” Zariyah sing-songed, purposefully disregarding your boyfriend's remark. She strutted away so gracefully, and you found it impossible to rip your gaze from her sculpted hips as they jumped.

He only laughed before returning his attention to you, gently tilting your face to meet his. “You okay baby girl?”

You nodded, still distracted, still overwhelmed.

“You sure? I saw you talking to Riy, she ain't say nothing weird right? I know she can be a little…”

Huh, apparently he had not been as oblivious to your whereabouts as you previously thought. Certainly offering you far more regard than you'd offered him all night. “Intense?” You finished for him.

“Yeah.”

“She didn't say nothing…too weird.” You faked a laugh. “I think I just need some air. No shade, but I been in your apartment since last night, and now there's niggas here…I, I just need to step out for a bit.”

Hakeem's laugh was one of authenticity, far more passionate than your own as he agreed with your statement. “Okay, okay, I get it. No problem with that. I am sorry for not telling you people was coming over sooner.”

“You're sorry for not telling me you were having a party, you mean.”

“Social gathering.” He corrected coyly, and his dimple edged smile helped free one of your own, a real one this time, perhaps releasing the only real sense of joy you’d felt all day.

He got up, outstretched his arm, and you took it, allowing him to guide you to the door. “Promise you’ll come back?”

Damn him and those puppy dog eyes, and that lip bite. How were you to deny him? “I will.”

“Good.” He pecked your cheek, reluctant to let you walk out the door. “Oh! And if you see Ri out there, tell her to get her lil ass back in here, we finna hop on the game.”

You were already halfway down the hallway before he finished his sentence, harboring no intentions of fulfilling his request.

•••

The gentle night air greeted you with a soft caress as you stepped outside. You exhaled, breath synchronizing with the rhythm of the breeze. Each inhale brought you a sense of solace, and you were finally able to quiet all the noise in your head. This was the escape you sought, from Zariyah’s mind games, and your boyfriend’s insufferable friends.

However, your serenity was short-lived. It would be just your luck to run into Riri within seconds of entering the parking lot. She had yet to detect your presence, too preoccupied with the happenings in her phone. She looked visibly calmer now, though her brows remained knitted together as she sat passively on the hood of her car.

You shouldn't stare; staring was impolite. But, the sight of her leaning against that muscle car, scowling at the world, was irresistibly captivating. Encountering Riri with her defenses down, oblivious to your observation, was a rarity. Only those closest to her got the privilege of witnessing her so relaxed, people like Hakeem, like Zariyah—not people like you. So you allowed yourself to appreciate, and get lost in this version of her.

“Man, what the hell do you want?” Riri’s voice was a distant echo, drowned out by the mesmerizing dance of her curls wafting in the wind.

You shook your head, “Huh?”

“You can't hear or something?” She huffed, rolling her eyes. “The fuck is really wrong with you?”

Apparently, you were incorrect about her new found state of relaxation, because it took only the sight of you to get her worked up again. You were used to her harsh tone when addressing you, but honestly, you were over this pattern of undeserved verbal abuse.

“Excuse me?” Ice coated your voice, its chill serving as a warning she deliberately chose not to heed.

Riri continued behaving in a disinterested manner, her small body still slumped against her car, face splashed in annoyance. Yet, a spark ignited in her eyes, one that invited a challenge as she opened her mouth to mock you. “That's all you have to say? Excuse me?”

“Yeah Riri, that's what I have to say. Because I’m giving you a chance to clarify what the fuck you just said to me.”

“So I guess I should give you a chance to clarify what the fuck that was upstairs then, right?” She sniffed, “Since we being generous and shit.”

You deflected, though you were fully aware of her implication, “Who the fuck do you think you be talking to sometimes? Like honestly?”

She chuckled sardonically, glancing around the empty parking lot before her eyes returned to where you stood across from her. “You see anybody else but the two of us out here?”

What an infuriating little human she was. She had an uncanny ability to wind you up, a skill unique to her alone, and knowing this only fueled your anger further. “It's really sad that you don't got no regard for the way you treat people. That shit ain't cute, it's childish as fuck.”

“Maybe you're just too sensitive.”

“And me flirting with your girlfriend, was that too sensitive for you?” You snapped furiously.

You’d received the don’t play with fire talk as a child. Fire was catching, and prior to now, you’d abided by this teaching. But Riri possessed an unyielding power to make you do things you’d never previously done—feel things you shouldn't possibly feel. The inferno she unleashed within you was inextinguishable, leaving you with no other fate than to burn. And you’d ensure it was to be hers as well—you'd make her burn alongside you.

It would be worth it, to see that look on her face, the one she struggled to make disappear before you could notice.

But she was not swift enough.

Moonlight washed Riri’s face, accentuating the glint of irritation swirling in her pupils, and you knew you had her.

“And what, you think you special or sumn cause Zariyah gave you a lil attention?” Though she feigned nonchalance, jealousy weighed heavy on her words, enticing you, persuading you to fan the flames of Riri’s fury. “Cause you not. She probably already forgot your name, and that's if she even bothered to ask for it.”

You opened your mouth to speak, “I–”

Riri pushed herself off of the hood of her car. She was standing in front of you now, eyes narrowed, seething. “But while we on the topic, let's talk about you flirting with my girlfriend. How you go from ignoring me one week, to flirting with Zariyah to get a reaction out of me the next? You so damn inconsistent.”

“I’m inconsistent? Have you even met yourself, Riri?! I knew you was full of shit, but god fucking damn!” Your voice was climbing in volume, but you couldn't bring yourself to care; This eruption was months in the making. “Everything about you is inconsistent, and confusing, a-and fucking maddening! Can't even be in the same room with you without worrying about breathing too hard, or-or thinking too loud!”

An identifiable twinge of hurt flashed in Riri’s irises, stirring up a momentary rush of remorse within you, that was until, she began to speak. “And you're just sooo fucking innocent, right? It's always ‘woe is fucking me’ with you, and I’m just the asshole who always got a problem with you. That's what you believe, right?”

“What else am I supposed to believe, Riri?”

“You still ain't answered my question. What the fuck was all that shit with Zariyah about? That shit was innocent to you? I know why she did what she did, but what reason did you have to be doing that shit in my face? How you gon spin this to make yourself the victim now? Huh?”

The wildness in her eyes terrified you. You were unable to refute her accusations. Yes, you wanted to get her to this point; angry; jealous—you wanted to hurt her—and you did. But at what cost…

Your spitefulness towards her was causing you to lose sight of yourself. This wasn't you, standing outside your boyfriend's building, in a screaming match with his best friend…

You made eye contact with her, shaking your head, “Before today, I’d never done anything other than try to get you to like me.” You admitted.

“I know you’d like to believe that.”

“Then oh my God, fucking tell me! Tell me what I did to you so I can apologize, and we can move the fuck on! Cause I’m tired Riri, I’m fucking exhausted, aren't you?!”

“You wanna know what you did?”

You nodded, arms crossed, “Yes.”

“You exist!” A whisper spat with stinging venom. “You existing is a problem for me. I can't fucking escape you. It doesn't matter what I do, or where I go. You're always gonna be in my head, and you're always gonna be with him. Nothing I can do about that though.”

Stunned into silence, your body housed only the ability to stare.

She stared back at you, wordless for a while, intensifying the insanity taking place in your head.

You studied her face as though it were a lesson you were learning for the first time, memorizing the striking beauty written into her visage. Her undeniable comeliness was greatly unsettling, and it overwhelmed you.

“But fuck…” She exhaled, stepping in so close, your chests collided. Her heart’s presence was palpable, its rhythmic beat calling on the echo of yours. But this proximity did not seem enough for Riri. She breathed you in, deep, eyes fixated on your parted lips before forcing them to discover yours again beneath the celestial sky, “I guess you're right, I am full of shit, because as much as I complain, I-I still want you–”

“Fuck! What is wrong with me!” She cursed herself out loud, pulling at her roots. “Just go inside bruh.”

You blinked for the first time in minutes, “What? Riri what– I–I”

“Go inside.” She repeated. It was more of a demand than anything else, and it seemed most logical to acquiesce to it.

Your mind was in complete disarray. How were you supposed to think straight right now, with a racing heart chasing a finish line that existed outside of your bosom?

What the fuck was all of that? What were you supposed to do with Riri’s words?

There was absolutely no way you would be able to handle this—whatever this was—on top of everything else hammering away at your brain. Your head throbbed violently, and you could feel the vein in your forehead bulging from beneath your skin.

So you slowly began to back away, eyes locked on Riri’s pleading ones. Her eyes… it seemed an invasion to witness them so…soft, and filled to the brim with vulnerability. The sight broke your heart.

This was too much.

You stumbled slightly as you turned away from her, speed walking back towards the door after tossing one last glance Riri's way. She appeared far more frustrated than how you first met her out here, but said frustration was geared toward herself now.

What the fuck?

Each step forward was heavier than the one prior, as though your body wanted to combat Riri’s command for you to flee. You weren't even sure leaving was the right thing to do. But what would you do if you stayed? What would it mean if you wanted to stay?

Your thoughts were a web of questions, with each answer producing truths and realizations that seemed too frightening to disentangle. You were so far removed from everything happening outside your head that the footsteps imitating yours went undetected. As you moved to pull the door open, the person quickened their pace, finally closing the gap between you and them.

“Hey you!” The blonde boy slurred, his voice reeking of inebriation. “Hold that door open!”

You flinched at the sudden intrusion, but you never stopped walking to acknowledge his request.

The footsteps kept coming though, apparently he’d gotten in, and was continuing on your tail. “Didn't you hear me back there? S’was the guy asking you to h-hold the door.” He laughed halfheartedly.

Yet still, you refused to respond, mind set on reaching the elevator.

“Oh, okay, I get it. You're one of those ‘play hard to get’ types.”

That remark made you roll your eyes and you muttered to yourself, “I don't got time for this shit.”

Irritated by your lack of response, he grew impatient. “Hey what's with the attitude? M’just making conversion. I-I mean con-ver-say-shun.” He chuckled , sounding out the syllables of the word.

“Can you leave me the fuck alone?” You barked, “I don't wanna have no damn conversation with you.”

But instead of backing off, your dismissal seemed to only infuriate him more, “Why you gotta be a fucking bitch?” He gripped your wrist before you could push the elevator button, the contact sending a jolt of panic through your body. “I just wanna talk to you.”

“Get your fucking hand off me. Now.” You repeated calmly, pulling yourself free from his hold.

You were all geared up to knee him in the balls, just as Riri’s voice came wafting down the hallway. “I know you heard her say get your hand off her? Or are your ears still fucked up from the last time a girl had to beat your ass?”

And it was instant, the way he dropped your arm, freezing right where he stood. “This doesn't concern you Riri.”

“If it concerns her, then it concerns me.” She stood slightly in front of you now, eyeing him. She shielded you from the boy with fierce protection, well, that was if your deduction of her stance was indeed a correct one. “You don't even live in this building Matt, get the fuck on.”

You took back the opportunity Riri’s emergence had stolen away from you when she moved, lifting your knee until the joint connected to his groin. You slammed into him, hard, relishing the visual of him tumbling to the floor in agony.

Riri said nothing, she only smirked as she pressed the elevator button for you, allowing you to step on ahead of her.

When the doors shut, the two of you were standing shoulder to shoulder. Silent. Unmoving. The tension you had momentarily escaped now surged back, saturating the atmosphere with an oppressive weight, and you found yourself anxiously counting each floor as the elevator ascended.

It dawned on you then—you were more terrified of being alone with Riri on this elevator than you had been of being accosted by a stranger.

“You okay?” She finally asked, sounding sincere.

You nodded, “Yeah, I’m, I’m good.” You cleared your throat. “But don't tell Hakeem, okay?”

Riri’s bewildered eyes made it seem like you had two heads. “Some random nigga just basically assaulted you and you don't plan on telling your boyfriend?”

“I just don't want any more unnecessary drama.”

She laughed a little in disbelief, “If you was my girl… and some shit like that happened, I’d wanna know.”

If you were her–

You shook that blasphemy from your thoughts, opting to address her previous statement instead, “He ain't seem that random though. Seemed like y’all knew each other.”

“Something like that, yeah.” She chuckled to herself.

When the doors opened on Hakeem’s floor, once again, Riri made space for you to walk ahead of her. And she trekked close behind, obnoxiously so.

“Promise you won't say anything?”

She scrutinized you with mirthful eyes, scanning your face for something you were unaware existed there before agreeing. “Aight.”

And then she opened the door, stepping into the apartment ahead of you this time.

“Baby! You're back!” Hakeem greeted, a little too excitedly. “And you found Riri!”

It took absolutely no effort for Riri to disappear into the crowd with her best friend. And you envied that, because unfortunately for you, her words were not so easily evaded.

•••

For the rest of the night Riri kept her distance, sticking to Hakeem’s side like glue. She casted covert glances your way, believing you oblivious to her scrutiny, but beyond the stolen stares, she behaved as though you did not exist in the same room as her—as though she hadn't confessed to… Well, that was the part you deemed most maddening—the way Riri’s confession left you grasping for clarity in the shadows of her words.

I still want you–

Her declaration stunned her more than it did you, this truth made evident by the instant regret following the spitting of her unfinished sentence. Part of you felt indebted to Riri’s restraint, because had she completed that thought, you were certain your worlds would implode.

You weren't ready for that.

But, unfortunately for you, your brain did not concur. Your ongoing headache worsened as you sat on a bar stool, thinking, weaving your own narratives about the remark Riri chose to swallow, none of them quelling.

You twisted the stool from side to side, wishing desperately to be home in your bed, peacefully getting lost in the labyrinth of your own mind without the presence of unknown onlookers. Luckily, Hakeem’s guest list began to dwindle, with only a few stragglers refusing to go home.

“Uh-oh, I know that look.” You didn't need to turn to know it was Zariyah addressing you.

You didn't answer. The decision to ignore her came with no challenge, a quiet act of self-preservation. You allowed the chatter and animated conversations happening around you to capture your attention; a focal point; a place to designate the frustrations aspiring to swallow you whole.

But your silence did not deter her. “I promise, I come in peace this time.”

Still, your refusal to respond stretched on. It wasn't difficult to identify the smile in her voice, but it only made you wonder how much it was to be trusted.

Your eyes fanned the mostly sparse living room, defying your want to concentrate on anything that wasn't Riri. You located her with ease, her small figure lodged beside Hakeem's on the couch. They were playing Mario Kart, with Hakeem leading the race and Riri throwing a tantrum because, “Bruh, the only reason you winning is cause you stole Princess Peach when you know I was finna pick her.”

In any other circumstance you'd laugh at her misfortune, but your misery refused to allow simple pleasures. For she was lonely, and she sought company in you.

“You know, whatever Riri did, she's not gon apologize.” Zariyah stated knowingly, her stare traveling in the direction yours resided. “It's like defiance is hardwired into her DNA or something.”

“Riri didn't do–”

“Does your face know that?” She laughed.

Finally, you turned to face her, meeting her far too wide, far too practiced knee-weakening smile. It was genuine this go round, no ulterior motives behind it. “I’m gonna offer you some advice, because despite what you might think, I actually kinda like you.”

You weren't sure your body bore the capacity to handle any more unthwarted information, but as you’d learned today, Zariyah wasn't keen on awarding choices. “Don't let Riri suck you into her shit. It's tempting, I know, but it won't end well for you.”

You swallowed, actively forcing your brain to mull over Zariyah’s counsel. She was like divinity personified, and it was fucking freaky. You were silent as the pair of you continued gazing in the direction of your respective partners, but Hakeem was not the one your eyes vied for. From your position, you were only able to identify half of Riri’s face, the other half sheltered by her curls, protecting her from your ridiculing glare.

How was she able to present so together after everything that passed between the two of you outside, when your internal turmoil was plastered all over your face?

You envied that, and said envy birthed bitterness.

“Is that what she did to you? Suck you in?” You inquired after a while.

“Mmm, I wouldn't say that, everything I’ve experienced with Riri has been of my own volition. But, I do think it was hardwired into my DNA to fall for her.” A manicured hand climbed her bosom, reaching to fiddle with the golden “Z” sitting pretty on her chest, “Honestly I think it's impossible for anyone to know Riri and not fall for her in some way.”

Zariyah was like a bug in your ear, vaguely suggesting, subtly guiding, whilst still purposefully withholding. Here you were believing her to be done with the games—silly you. “Why are you telling me this?”

She bit her lip suggestively, “Because, like I said, I kinda like you. And I think you're in over your head. And at the rate you're going, you're bound to land flat on your pretty face. I’d hate to see that.”

Involuntarily, your head sprung to the side, allowing for a puzzled expression to appear on your face.

She sensed your confusion, your hesitancy, much like she detected each of your previous emotions. Zariyah moved her body so she would loom before you, instead of beside, acting as a barrier between you and the object of all your abhorrences. “You should listen to me.”

You watched as Zariyah puckered her glossed lips, her action going unrecognized until her sticky mouth had already left your cheek. “I’m usually right.” You felt the lastings of her lip gloss lingering on your hot face, and you sat frozen, watching her strut towards the distracted scientist.

“Ri! I’m ready to go, can we leave?” She whined, tossing her body over the back of the couch.

Riri waved her off, “Yeah, in a lil bit.”

“I’m ready now, I want to leave now.”

“I said in a lil bit, damn.” Her eyes never left the TV screen, oblivious to Zariyah's materializing fury.

Hakeem glanced over his shoulder, taking note of the visibly pissed off girl posted behind him, and he smirked. “Maybe it is time for you to take yo sorry ass home Ri, you already losing, listen to yo girlfriend and call it a night.”

That tone his voice carried, it was one easily deduced. He was baiting Riri.

“Man how many times I gotta tell you, Zariyah ain't my motherfucking girlfriend. Stop saying that shit.”

And regrettably for her, she took it.

A slew of uncomfortable gasps blanketed the room as Riri’s assertion permeated the air. Her words remained an echo in the disappearing crowd, silencing the buzzing hive of chatter and laughter.

Every eye turned toward the couple, stunned.

Zariyah's vibrant afro seemed to mirror her escalating rage, each curl igniting like a matchstick, fueling the furnace crackling within her. Her anger, hot and unmistakable, radiated outward, making her hair appear almost ablaze under the lights. Gone were the mischievous eyes she regarded you with moments ago. Now, they glinted with the intensity of flickering flames.

The onlookers, captivated by the spectacle, watched silently as Zariyah’s fury reached its zenith.

That was until, she shattered said silence entirely. “Fuck you, Riri.”

Unable to bear the humiliation any longer, she turned on her heel, her scarlet fro bouncing with the ferocity of her movements. Each step she took towards the door left a trail of scorching anger in its wake, like falling embers landing in a bed of ashes. The door slammed shut behind her with a resounding thud, punctuating her departure.

And by the time Riri finally realized the damage she'd done, it was far too late. You noted her shame as she panned the watching room; she felt exposed; inspected, and although it was difficult to pinpoint your own emotions pertaining to the situation, you knew you harbored no sympathy for Riri.

If this moment of public dissection was to present self reflection, she should welcome it. You wanted her to bake in her embarrassment. It was about time she got a dose of the medicine she dished out.

“Nigga!” Hakeem's screech brought you back to reality. He was on his feet, dragging Riri to the door. “Go after her, the fuck is wrong with you?!”

His outrage was ironic, considering he practically coaxed Riri’s reaction out of her.

Riri scoffed, “Nigga the fuck is wrong with you? Why would you even say that shit to me when you know she in the room? Fuck!”

She appeared acutely aware of her fuck up, vexation tensing her strong shoulders.

“What if she don't want me to come after her? She literally said fuck you to my face, she don't wanna see me.”

For a girl, Riri’s logic resembled that of a man’s. How could she possibly question if following after Zariyah was the right thing to do? You’d only known Zariyah for a few hours, but after your shared conversation earlier, you were pretty confident in the assumption that she would eventually forgive Riri. She’d undoubtedly make her grovel, which would be deserved, but she should want to grovel, if she were truly remorseful.

It's what you'd do if it were you in Zariyah's position. Riri would have to plead, be so desperate for absolution, that she would be willing to do anything to have it bestowed upon her.

And it sounded like Hakeem agreed, “Of course she don't wanna see yo ass. But that don't mean you don't still go. You fucked up and you gotta own that. How you think it's gon look if you don't go? You tryna make shit worse for yourself?”

Riri’s eyes traveled past her best friend, on an urgent quest for you. Her gaze, intense and unwavering, spoke to you with words her lips could not. In the dim light, those deep browns, framed by long, dark lashes held a longing that was both familiar and haunting.

For reasons unbeknownst to you, Riri was after your opinion—your permission.

You’d think yourself delusional for even drawing such a conclusion, if you hadn't instantly recognized her body language. She stood there, almost trembling, the tension in her body a testament to her internal conflict. It was the same demeanor she held when she pleaded with you earlier, the same vulnerability filling her yearning eyes.

Her plea was an absurd one, in what world would Riri Williams need your permission to do anything, especially this?

Terror grew in your gut the longer you watched her watch you. In those brief, silent moments, her eyes reached out, desperate for the allowance you felt disinclined to give.

Why did you not want her to have it? Why did you not want her to go?

Nevertheless, you granted her request, nodding in her direction as you ignored the stinging burn starting in your chest. You watched Riri’s face contort, displaying a myriad of emotions before settling on one: acceptance.

And then she glanced back at Hakeem, who looked back at you. You noted his confused expression, feeling caught, and a rapid panic began to spread throughout your limbs. But your boyfriend didn't acknowledge any suspicion, he turned his focus back to his very flustered looking best friend, addressing her sternly this time. “Ri, get the fuck out of here and go get your girl.”

And that's exactly what she did, leaving you and your aching heart behind.

•••

The morning Sun showered you in its golden rays, excited to greet you as you arose. But you, on the other hand, did not see it fit to return the warm welcome, because unlike Hakeem, sleep refused to take you last night. You tossed and turned, eluding your dreams and the ghostly figure that haunted them.

Whenever your weary eyelids began to fall, you were bombarded by flashes of defiant curls, a knowing smirk cemented on a far more defiant face, and dark, cavernous brown eyes constructed solely to dissect and pick apart your innards. Typically, you coveted your time spent slumbering between your boyfriend’s arms. Hakeem held you steadily as you two slept, providing unwavering security and comfort, and you often looked forward to nights at Hakeem’s for this reason.

But last night held a different feel to it. Rather than supplying the comfort you were accustomed to, Hakeem’s tight embrace was suffocating, so when you were certain he’d drifted completely, you wiggled yourself free of his hold. Guilt was eating you alive. Sprawled on your back, gazing up at his star covered ceiling, you listened to the whispers echoed by your turbulent conscience.

There was no silencing the noise—there was only endurance.

You endured your brain's obsession with the way Riri looked at you with those fucking eyes that knew no bounds. You endured the way she spoke in riddles, her words and tone conveying two entirely different things, and she made it your responsibility to decode them.

It angered you that she possessed such power to steal your sleep from you without even being physically present. Zariyah tried warning you about the dangers of entangling yourself with the likes of this maddening girl, but it was too late—it seemed there was no divot inside your mind that could armor you against the wrath of Riri Williams’ infiltration.

So you remained awake until the Sun came up, eager to get your day started and over with all at once.

It was Monday, and contrary to the general consensus, you loved Mondays. Mondays brought with them opportunity, a chance to leave the weekend behind, to leave Riri and all her demons behind.

She wouldn't ruin today for you, how could she if you harbored no plans of running into her at all? You exited Hakeem's apartment hastily after he went for his morning run, leaving a note for him to find when he returned.

Your goals for this forgiving day: Complete your two classes, then spend a few hours studying before heading to work. You also planned to text your boyfriend later in the day, with a makeshift excuse as to why you couldn't see him; there was no chancing a run in with his best friend.

You knew that Riri’s classes were on the other side of campus, but the extra precaution grounded you as you strutted up the library steps, draping you in the sense of control you’d been lacking lately. You waved to your classmate Whitney as you walked to the study room you reserved, mind clear and goal oriented.

You were only struggling with one class: Thermodynamics. Truthfully, the only reason you were behind was because you tanked your last quiz, which coincidentally happened on the exact same day your mother called. Four months of radio silence after your refusal to attend a school closer to home, just to call out of the blue. For the sake of your mental health, you opted to let the phone ring, unanswered. She didn't get to do that; you wouldn't allow her pathetic attempt of weaseling back into your life.

But that decision sort of ricocheted, because instead of moving forward with your day, you spent hours obsessing over the voicemail she left, an obsession that interfered with your performance on assessments.

It was just like her to do this. Your mother wasn't a planner, but there wasn't a task she performed without intent. And you harbored no doubt about this impromptu phone call being intentional. Her goal was to fuck with your day, and although she was unaware of exactly how her actions would do that, she was confident in the mere possibility.

A possibility turned reality, as she'd accomplished exactly what she'd set out to do.

Today was the day to rectify that though. You weren't exactly failing the class, but you were not satisfied with your current grade. So, it was time you familiarized yourself with the four laws of thermodynamics. You sat down, pulled your laptop out of your bag, and got to work.

However, it appeared that your body had its own agenda, defying your intentions with an unwavering resolve.

You were jolted from your slumber by an insistent tapping on the study room window, and you sluggishly peeled open your eyes, struggling to shake off the heavy veil of drowsiness.

A groan flew free as your eyes followed the impatient rapping. There were two girls peering at you through the glass with wide eyes, one tall and dark, the other shorter with a more tan complexion, but despite their differences in physical appearance, they both wore the same perplexed look on their faces.

And it was then that you glanced at the clock on the wall.

3:46 pm. Shit.

The sleep you fled the night prior, had finally caught up to you, assailing you amidst your dedicated study time. You managed to barely reach chapter three before dozing off completely, and now, your time in the study room was over. Embarrassingly, you began packing your things, mumbling to yourself as you made your way to the door.

“I am so sorry, I lost track of time.” You apologized, tossing your backpack onto your shoulder.

They assured you it wasn't a problem, and you stepped out of their way hurriedly so they could take your place in the room, tossing one last “Sorry,” their way.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” To add insult to injury, you were also late for work, and Benny had been on your ass about your tardiness over the past few weeks. “I’m definitely getting fi–”

It was immediate, the collision between shoulder and forehead, a halo of curls blinding your vision, the same halo that haunted your dreams, turning them into nightmares. The impact sent your binder tumbling to the ground, sheets of paper fluttering down like delicate leaves across the library floor. A few curious heads turned in your direction, and you felt the heat rising in your cheek. Determined to minimize the spectacle, you hastily gathered your belongings, intent on making a swift exit.

But Riri’s voice halted you dead in your tracks, “Ion like that you're making a habit of walking away from me.” She was behind you now, the proximity of her voice a clear indicator. “The fuck is up with that?”

You felt that inferno crackle awake inside you, rousing your growing irritation, and you cursed the way it took only words for her to rile you up. You whipped around to face her, your crimson locs slithering behind your back like seething serpents.

She was smirking, hand outstretched, clutching a worksheet you seemed to have missed. “And your handwriting is still ugly as hell.”

“Fuck off Riri, I’m not dealing with your bullshit, not today.” Your eye twitched.

“Damn, who pissed in your cereal?”

You were halfway to the door when nimble fingers strangled your wrist. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry.”

Surely you didn't hear that correctly. “Did you just say the words ‘I’m sorry’ without suffering a cerebral hemorrhage?”

Riri scratched her eyebrow, eyes hitting the floor as she averted yours. “Yeah, uh… that's kinda what I wanna talk to you about. I wanna apologize, officially I mean. I was actually gon head over to uh, Freeda's in a lil bit, I know your last class ended already, and I figured you were already at work, but I had to stop here first to get a book for class, and then I saw you, and I thought, no time like the present, I mean why not just do it now…”

You couldn't believe it. Was Riri really rambling to you right now?

“…so I started walking towards you and–”

You cut her off, “Stop. You're saying way too many irrelevant things.” You were still in disbelief, still guarded as you eyed her suspiciously. “What exactly are you apologizing for, Riri?”

“For, um, all of it. Everything.” Her chocolate tinted eyes melted before you, “I'm really sorry for the way I've been treating you ever since you started dating Keem. Actually, I'm sorry for how I treated you even before y’all got together for real.” Riri paused, clearing her throat awkwardly, waiting for an interjection on your part.

But truthfully, you hadn't one to give. You were so blindsided by her apology that you found words hard to come by.

Once she realized you weren't planning to reply, she continued, shoving her hands into the pockets of her shorts. “I know this is too fucking late, and I been bullshitting you, but I’m being serious this time. You uh, you ain't deserve none of that. You're a good person, and it's not like I didn't know that this whole time, I did. I don't know why it's so hard for me to admit that. I guess I was just intimidated by the way it takes no effort for you to be kind, and welcoming, and understanding… I– I’m just really fucking sorry, okay?”

Her fro barred her eyes, but it wasn't difficult to detect the candor in her cadence.

“And what am I supposed to do with this apology?” Truly, what did she expect your response to be? “Am I expected to just fucking forgive and forget?”

You regarded her with a blank stare, watching as she battled with her knee-jerk reaction to respond with snark and disrespect. Her body stiffened, but only for a second before she released and relaxed her muscles. “No! No. I don't expect that at all. I'm not apologizing because I want absolution, I’m apologizing because it's the right thing to do.”

“And all of a sudden you're concerned with doing the right thing?” Your patience with this conversation was thinning, and you no longer wanted to be an active participant.

“I’m just as surprised as you are.” She laughed nervously, “I don’t expect automatic forgiveness, I know I’ve been a dick. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, you can quite literally spit in my face right now, and tell me to go fuck myself, and I’d accept that, I’d understand. B-But I wanna earn it.”

Riri inched closer, wrapping her hot digits around your perspiring palm. She trapped your eyes in a longing, hopeful stare, lips quivering as they parted, “Make me work for it… please?”

It was a breathless whisper that made her voice crack pathetically. Heavy words, with veiled connotations that you absolutely refused to decrypt.

So you nodded, agreeing to her request without words, allowing the soft rustle of turning pages to fade into the background. Riri’s eyes scoured your blown features curiously before she smugly flicked the corners of her mouth, and you quite literally felt your brain combust inside your skull.

You cleared your throat, “So uh, how’d it go with Zariyah, after you know…” You felt your curiosity was warranted, given Riri’s reaction to all of it last night. Honestly, you still didn't know what your reaction to that should be.

“Next question!” Riri chuckled, scratching the back of her neck.

“She really cares about you, a lot.” You expressed, shocking her.

“And you got that from talking to her for five seconds at a party?”

You prepared to walk away from her, but Riri grabbed your waist unabashedly, with those same scorching fingers, yanking you toward her, preventing you from leaving her presence. “I’m fucking with you, relax.”

“You just can't help yourself, can you?”

And she shrugged, broadcasting a toothy grin. “I really can't.”

You weren't even sure she was aware of how blinding her smile was; how genuine; but knowing you were responsible for its appearance coaxed out a similar grin of your own. “Thanks, for apologizing I mean. That was very big of you, considering you're like three feet tall.” You giggled.

“Oh, so you got jokes, okay.” She laughed along with you.

You crossed your legs, gripping your binder with both hands, watching Riri, witnessing her smile expand the longer you two spoke. You captured pictures of this moment with your mind, noting the way her eyes crinkled at the sides when she laughed, the way she constantly fidgeted with her pendant, and her flexing abs beneath her crop top.

Your shift was a distant priority now, you thought, it wasn't like Benny would actually fire you anyway.

It was nice, seeing her this open, with you of all people, and in public. Maybe you two could be friends after all, in a perfect world.

“Like I said, you're a good person. And I don't like knowing you think I don't notice that. I notice a lot about you.” She reached up, tucking a stray loc behind your ear, and you felt your heart stop entirely. You could tell—from the way she took you in—Riri heard it flatline.

She bit her lip, gaze locked on yours and you gasped audibly in the silent library. This action called on Riri’s signature smirk as she backed away from you, examining your disheveled demeanor. “I gotta go though. Ima see you.”

It was then that you felt the visceral blow, a gut punch that left you reeling, as you watched Riri walk away. Her coy wave felt like a taunt, and as she broke into a slow, confident trot, a knot began to form in your stomach. It tightened with an unbearable intensity, threatening to snap at any moment. Realization was beginning to creep in as Zariyah’s words reverberated in your eardrums.

You felt way more than you should for this girl, who up until now, made your life a living hell. A crushing shame accompanied this epiphany, gnawing relentlessly at your core. And you were left with a terrifying question that you wished could live unanswered: Were you falling for Riri Williams, your boyfriend's best friend? Or, worse yet, had you already plunged headfirst into those feelings, oblivious until this very moment? The gravity of this realization left you feeling exposed and vulnerable, standing on the precipice of an emotional chasm.

#more than i should #mtis pt 4 #INMYHEADIMOBSESSED #lyric i love you

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