Untitled

Her new nigga wasn’t someone she was serious about. Yes—he was sexy as hell, and yes—and he did whatever she told him to, but he wasn’t Smoke.

Annie had promised herself after that first time that she wouldn’t become addicted to the man. It was easy enough to say but too hard to make reality, and whenever she found her mind drifting to Smoke, all she could think about was the sight, smell, and taste of him. All she could feel was his hands roaming her body, throwing her around—handling her. It had been a long time since she was this engrossed in another person, so when he texted, she responded. When he begged to come over, she let him.

Her new nigga was an attempt to stop this obsession from spreading. He was something to offset her need for Smoke. It worked—at first—but every time she got a taste of Smoke again, she was ready to throw in the towel and run to her friend in confession.

She knew why the woman had put an end to the threesome shit just as soon as it had started. Annie and the man had went wild, and when you get completely lost the way they did, you have to nip that shit in the bud expeditiously. Her friend could see where it was heading, could tell that if they continued she would end up with no man at all—but she didn’t move quick enough.

Annie had snatched her nigga up, and if Smoke was intrigued by her before, he was damn near obsessed now.

When he yelled at her about her new man, the audacity made her laugh and boil with anger. You would think he'd focus on the more pressing matter first: they had a double date to be worried about, and there he was focused about some stupid shit. But Annie couldn’t deny that Smoke’s possessive side made her tingle. There was something about the raising of his voice, the crazy look in his eye, the way he gritted his teeth at her.

She wanted to tell him that she was all his and that she wasn’t serious about dude, but then she’d have no cards to play and nobody to fall back on.

She wasn’t that stupid.

~~~~~

Annie stared down at her phone. Smoke was blowing her up like he had been all week, but she had nothing to say to him; Nothing worthwhile, and nothing that would soothe the insane way he was behaving. She rolled her eyes as a litany of messages came through.

So you ain't gon answer my fuckin messages?

You got me textin and callin yo ass and I know you see it

I told yo ass I was serious, Annie

Im serious bout you

Bout us

Answer yo damn phone, woman

Aight

Keep playin

Just wait til I see yo lil boyfriend at this dinner then

“You ready for our double date on friday,” her friend asked, bumping her shoulder as she passed her to look at the wall of shoes in front of them. Startled, Annie immediately stuffed her phone in her purse, swiveling around with a flushed look as her surroundings came back into the forefront.

The mall was loud even though it was a week day, but her mind was still oscillating between Smoke's messages and maintaining this lie.

“Sure,” she hummed, picking up a pair of heels. “I been wantin’ to try that restaurant for a while, too.”

“Mhm,” her friend responded distractedly. Annie had stooped to try on the shoe, giving her the chance to watch her without being interrupted. Her eyes drifted over her—hot and greedy—but when Annie stood up straight, she diverted her gaze. “I’m ready to meet yo’ new man,” she lied, huffing softly. “Tryna see who takin’ all your time away like this.” And with that, the friend laughed—boastful and haughty—but Annie could tell what was underneath it.

She had suspected for a while now that her friend still felt a way about their little rendezvous. Since then, she looked at Annie with the memory of her naked body still roaming around her mind, and when Annie began to spend less time with her and more time with her new man (and Smoke), she continuously demanded to know who was taking her away from her. She played it off as a joke, but Annie could sense her true feelings.

This stupid double date was set up for her friend to finally meet her "competition", as she had put it. And while Annie hated the whole idea of it, she couldn’t fight the irony of Smoke being the real reason for her lack of free time.

She was split between three people who couldn’t get enough Annie, and she didn’t know what to do. She had a friend who was obsessed with her and secretly pining for something she had put an end to herself. She had a new man who was supposed to be a fun distraction from the bullshit, but the more things progressed with him, the more enraptured he became, too. And she had Smoke—a man as addicted to her as she was him.

It was a hot ass mess of her own making, but there seemed to be no turning back now.

"What you wearin' to dinner," her friend questioned, biting her bottom lip. She was back to looking her up and down and clearly envisioning Annie being put through the mattress.

"Girl," Annie cackled, rolling her eyes as they walked into another store. "Stop lookin' at me like that before I tell yo' man on you."

"Oh, please," she grumbled, moving to a rack of dresses. Rolling her shoulders back, her voice leveled to a tone Annie couldn't fully decipher. "Smoke be lookin' at you, too."

~~~~~

When she made it to the restaurant, Annie felt like she was walking into the lion's den. With her new nigga at her side, she only felt worse, like she was subjecting him to a violence he had no possible understanding of.

Before now, she'd felt no reason to explain the intricacies of her relationship with Smoke and her friend to him. He didn’t know about the threesome or her and Smoke’s relationship or how her friend still wanted her. It was none of his business, and they weren't serious enough for her to start divulging secrets with the man.

But it didn't make her feel any better about bringing him into the environment because she knew her guilt would only grow with time.

“Hey, sexy,” Annie’s friend shouted in greeting, standing from her seat to welcome the woman and her guest. Her arms wrapped around her waist, holding her tight as the two men beside them sized each other up. Smoke rose from his chair slowly, eyes remaining in the unfamiliar face. He disregarded the nickname, disregarded Annie’s attire. There was nothing more important than figuring out what made this nigga good enough for his Annie.

Greeting her friend back with a firm hug, the woman introduced her guest—and immediately the air turned cold.

Smoke, his girlfriend, and Annie’s man all traded looks between each other, each of them full of competition and jealousy.

“Have you all ordered anything,” Annie laughed off nervously, trepidation blanketing her emotions. She took a seat at the table, right between Smoke and her friend—across from her man. The other woman cleared her throat to speak, but Annie could only focus on how Smoke had yet to acknowledge her.

“Just a bottle of wine,” her friend offered blankly.

“Well,” Annie breathed emptily. She didn’t know what to say or how to proceed. Never once had she been in a situation such as this, but she promised herself that she’d make it out alive. Noticing that her dress had ridden up, Annie fought the fabric to bring it down to an appropriate length, but that was entirely the wrong move.

Smoke’s eyes were on her in an instant, burning holes into her body because who did she think she was wearing something that short outside the house? Who did she think she was showing off what was his? He swallowed a thick gulp of wine, gritting his teeth when it hit the back of his throat.

He’d been too distracted earlier, but Annie had Smoke’s full attention now.

Seated at the square dining table in the middle of an overly loud restaurant, the man found himself placed between Annie and her new nigga. It disgusted him to see her making eyes at the man across from her while he was completely unconcerned with his own girl. They’d had a fight before arriving. Something stupid about him being distant and not showing much affection, something about how he hadn’t initiated sex in ages; But he was really cool off all that. He wanted Annie. Needed Annie.

The past week or so without the woman made him feel like he was going to die, but now that he could see her again, he’d been restored.

Between flagged down waiters and their food finally arriving from the backed up kitchen, little words had left his mouth. Smoke watched with angered eyes as Annie talked with everyone but him. She hardly looked in his direction, but it gave him plenty of time to analyze everything else. Both his and Annie’s dates were looking at the woman as if she’d hung the stars, severely infatuated by every word coming out of her mouth.

He understood that feeling. Annie was reverent, a fucking sight to behold.

“So, how serious you and Annie is,” he interrupted, bringing tension back to the table. The other man scoffed, working his jaw, and the two women refused to meet each other’s gazes. They were both embarrassed for a multitude of reasons.

“Serious enough,” Annie’s date countered with attitude. His eyebrows were scrunched, leaning into Smoke’s personal space. “You cool wit’ that?”

The question was unnecessary because everyone could tell his answer was a resounding no. Heat rose in his body. Jealousy dripped off of him. Smoke blew from his nostrils.

“Nigga, who the fuck you thin—”

“We’re just enjoyin’ ourselves,” Annie swallowed, unafraid of interrupting Smoke’s speech, uncaring of the glare he sent into the side of her head. She knew she needed to intervene quickly because no one at this table needed to believe that she and this man were anywhere near serious. Smoke was irate. Her friend was envious. And her nigga was ready to fight the whole table ‘bout her—and she wasn’t ready to see him end up on his ass. “We just gettin’ to know each other,” she explained further, shrugging to show indifference. “Learnin’ each other. Havin’ fun.”

“Don’t sound serious to me,” her friend whispered into her glass. And Smoke grunted in agreement. He eyed the way his girl rolled her eyes at the other man, how she clearly viewed him as some sort of intruder when she sent this all up. They didn't have to be here, but now they all pissed.

Smoke chuckled when Annie’s date shrunk into his seat.

Unable to hold back from touching her any longer, the man grabbed her near bare thigh beneath the table. He needed the stability. Needed it to keep him from doing something he would soon regret because Annie’s man was on the verge of saying more slick shit and his girl had turned her eyes to him, suspicious of his behavior as if she wasn't acting just as questionable.

“You good, Smoke,” she questioned from across the table, eyes low and jaw set. Her gaze communicated a million words, and he simply wasn’t ready to deal with that tonight.

“I’m fine,” but as he spoke shortly, his grip tightened on Annie, and he felt her gasp before her fingers joined his atop her thigh.

Annie was losing her mind.

The room was suffocating her, and Smoke's hands on her body—and beginning to tighten every second—only made her want him more. She felt stupid for spending the last week not talking to him, but she needed to make him sweat. In her attempts to have him unnerved, things had backfired, and all she wanted was to be alone with the man she had been avoiding for days.

“I think I need some air,” the woman exasperated, shooting a heated glance in his direction.

Before she could even stand, both men had moved to help her from her seat, and even her friend had extended a hand in assistance as well. It was awkward. Embarrassingly, Annie declined the help, finding the nearest exit to the restaurant's private courtyard.

It was much quieter outside, and the night air had a cooling note to it that instantly calmed her body. The dress she wore clung to her in the best way, ridding up with each step she made toward the fountain in the middle of the space. She was most surprised at the fact that no one was out here, and her mind cleansed itself at that realization.

“I can’t believe you brought that nigga,” she heard from behind her, the words hot as they punctuated the air. She could feel his body nearing hers, and as she rolled her shoulders to stand up straight, she could feel the hard plains of his chest.

“What you expect me to do, Smoke,” Annie questioned, exhaustion and need in her tone. “Just show up alone?”

“Hell yeah,” he grumbled. With a hand moving to her waist, he pulled her ass to lay flush with his crotch. He laughed at the shiver down her spine. “You mine, Annie, and both of them up in there lookin’ at you like they got the right to.”

“Smoke,” the woman groaned, slowly grinding into him. She was listening, or at least trying to, but Smoke was addictive. All it took was a few short words and that damn grumble to get her going. She didn’t know how she’d survive the rest of the night.

“Told ‘em I was headed to make a phone call, so we ain’t got much time, baby girl,” he whispered headily. “What you want?”

“I need to cum,” she cried, turning around in his arms. She fisted his shirt and gave him the softest eyes she could muster. “It’s been too long.”

“And who’s fault is that,” Smoke growled. He walked her into a corner where one wall of the building met another; where dense plants created enough shadows for him to do what needed to be done; where the world could become their own.

His lips landed on her neck first; Her purse was still sitting at the table, and they didn’t need the added drama of smudged makeup to ruin tonight anymore than they were about to. He nipped at her skin with care as his fingers glided down her thighs and back up again. Smoke would never get enough of the feel of her—the softness, the solidity beneath it all.

“You out of yo' mind comin' wit' that nigga,” he argued yet again. “Even crazier for wearin' this little ass dress, but I'm gon' let you slide for now.”

Her dress hem was thrown up over her hips before she could process everything, and his hands were inside her panties just as she had demanded. Annie loved that Smoke was a man on a mission in everything that he did. If there was a task to complete, he was diligent in seeing it through. Currently, she was his task, so when his thick fingers found her wet heat, she allowed her body to settle, knowing she would be taken care of.

It felt as if she were being engulfed—by him, by her emotions, by the entire date night from Hell. All she wanted was Smoke, but as his fingers stroked her, she just couldn’t stay focused on the moment.

“Breathe, baby,” the man reminded her, slowing his hand between her legs. The pace was teasing, shallower than he knew Annie needed. Her warmth surrounded him, and her arousal dripped down his fingers with each dragging thrust.

“Please,” Annie choked out, clawing at his shoulders. Her mind was still swirling, imagining both of their dates waiting at the table, hopeful for their return. Guilt settled into her skin, but she needed this. Staring into the man’s eyes, she attempted to ground herself, slowly beginning to work her hips into his palm.

“There you go,” Smoke encouraged, increasing his speed as she rutted against him. Heat flushed his face when she grabbed his throat and held him there, but he couldn’t lie about how good it felt. The choking—along with her moans—made him feel lightheaded in the best way, urging him to bring her to her climax. But his arousal was thumping in the seat of his own pants, and every few seconds, he thrusted his clothed length against her thigh.

“Put it in,” Annie lulled into his left ear.

And how could he resist that?

Looking out over his shoulder and finding the courtyard still empty, Smoke quickly unbuckled his belt. He’d have to do a whole lot of lying when he made it back to the table after this, but all of that was a distant concern that he refused to let take precedence.

“I ain’t got no condom,” he breathed heavily, but he was quick to realize that Annie didn’t mind when her leg wrapped around his hip and her hand dragged his dick closer to her entrance.

“I’m surprised you even came tonight,” the woman at the table grinned like a Cheshire cat. Her voice was teetering on the edge of something smug, but the man beside her didn’t pick up on it.

“Why are you surprised,” he questioned in response.

“I just thought you’d have a problem with it after Annie told you,” she chuckled.

“Told me what,” he asked once more, and the woman knew she was about to be triumphant.

“Oh, you don’t know, do you,” she feigned innocence. Her eyes got big and round as if she hadn’t meant to spill the beans and saw no way out but through. “You know Annie’s like my best friend and all, and we’re so close,” she began, voice lilting. “I thought she would have told you about me, her, and Smoke since y'all are so serious and everything.”

“Y’all—”

“Fucked? Yeah,” she answered with indifference, shrugging as she beckoned a waiter over for another bottle of wine. She refilled her glass and tried her best to stuff down her grin. She so badly needed this nigga to move on—because in her mind, if she had to compete for Annie’s attention against Smoke only, she’d double her chances at winning.

Oh, how wrong she was.

But nevertheless, the man beside her only added to her overconfidence when sadness washed over his body. She watched him look down at his watch and back toward the two empty chairs at their table.

“Fuck this pussy, baby,” Annie demanded, smacking the side of Smoke’s ass as he folded her up into the corner. She adored the heat of the moment, how they were doing this in public when they had people waiting for them. She loved the seclusion of it, how it was dark in their corner, and with the plants blocking the view no one would see them anyway.

It felt right no matter how wrong it was, and with Smoke finally fucking her raw like this, she was ready to give him what he wanted. What she had been denying herself, too.

“You mine,” she slurred, drunk off of the feeling of his thrusts.

“Huh, baby,” he grunted, sweat near his hairline.

“You my only nigga,” she confirmed, moaning lightly at him faltering in shock. She grabbed his face, nails crescenting his skin. “You mine, and I’m yours. But you need to put an end to yo’ relationship. Can you do that for me, baby?”

The words were sealed with a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Smoke nodded his head profusely before doubling his efforts.

“I swear it’s over wit’ her,” he damn near cried, throat cracking around a moan.

He’d do whatever she asked because Annie was his priority. Annie was what he’d always needed.

He continued to fuck her as he felt his body beginning to succumb to their combined efforts. Annie was clenching around his length and swearing softly against his lips. She couldn’t take it anymore, the guilt turning into something that nudged at her desire. Neither of them cared about the consequences or repercussions of their cheating because they had this: each other.

As they walked back to the table, they did it together—side by side instead of hiding behind a lie any longer.

Each step sent fear through Annie's body, but as Smoke's shoulder brushed against hers, her heart rate leveled out. What they hadn't expected upon returning was for the table to be missing one of their guests. The closer they got, Smoke's girl became clearer in their view, and when her head turned in their direction, a near evil smirk lit her face.

"Where ole dude at," Smoke puzzled distantly, knowing that whenever he turned up it would be time to come clean. He sat in his seat, Annie to one side and his girl in front of him. The laugh she let out told him everything he needed to know.

"He left," she muttered, already taking in Annie's appearance: the wrinkles in her dress, the slant of her hem, the dampness along her edges.

"Why'd he go," Annie uttered worriedly, causing both of the people at the table to roll their eyes. It's not that she cared about him that much, but when she left the table, everything was fine except for her need for Smoke.

"Y'all was out there together, weren't y'all," the other woman questioned instead, completely disregarding what she'd been asked. Her gaze had moved to Smoke, and his eyes told it all. He could never lie too well when confronted with something outright. His leg was bouncing beneath the table, and his brows were furrowed in a way that said he couldn't wait for tonight to be over with. But those damn eyes lit up every time he looked over at Annie, and the way he wanted her made the other woman's heart hurt.

"I asked you a question," Annie insisted, huffing and crossing her arms beneath her chest. "What did you say to him?" Because she knew the woman had done something. Her friend had set this all up for a reason, and she never liked the idea of Annie entertaining another person. Never liked that she didn't have all of Annie's attention.

"He somehow found out about our li'l threesome," she admitted with a casualness that irked Annie to her core.

"Why would you tell him that," she groaned. "You know I hadn't told him yet."

"I guess it slipped my mind," but as she said the words, she looked at Smoke. The darkness in his eyes. The irritation building in his bones. "What were y'all doin' outside?"

And although Smoke wanted to allow Annie the opportunity to speak her mind, he needed to put an end to this.

"We was fuckin'," he exasperated, already feeling Annie's eyes on him due to his bluntness. He continued to look at the woman he had arrived with tonight, watching the emotions pass over her face. He remembered the fight from earlier about him not being present. He remembered the days she'd come home after hanging out with Annie and how all she wanted was to fuck him with the thought of the other woman fresh in her mind. He thought back to when she had first admitted to wanting a threesome with her friend—the betrayal of it.

The look on her face now had nothing to do with her being cheated on and everything to do with the fact that it was with Annie—the woman that she wanted more than anything else. But she was his now, and that thought settled him.

"We through," he huffed, standing from his seat. He pulled out some cash, throwing it on the table. "You ain't wanted me for a long time, and I apologize for lyin' but that's all I got for you." He wanted to scoff when she looked up at him because she looked pathetic. Shoulders hunched and eyes wet, he could tell she knew this was the end of whatever fantasy she had created for her and the other woman. As much as he wanted to bring it up, it wasn't worth it.

Annie stood when his hand extended toward her.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, standing over the other woman with an honest look. "But it was never gonna work between us."

And with a promise to move out within the week and to pay his half of the rent for the remainder of their lease, Smoke and Annie departed from the double date from hell—hand in hand and with a weight lifted off of their shoulders.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

word count: ~4,200

a/n: and they lived happily ever afterrrr—-

taglist: comment HERE to be added!

A/n: Soooo uhmm.... I've said it before, and I'll say it again. I dont write, and I surely dont write stuff like this so be easy on a girl, cuz Idk what the fuck Im doing😩😭

Just know Im doing my best, lol

And if your a minor... Dont read this shit bruh.😭

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As soon as the door to the library closed behind her she moved swiftly through the darkened corridors like the devil was on her heels. Her night robe gently swayed every which way at the speed of her gate. She clutched the robe tighter to her body.

She felt off balance. Like her skin was too tight for the body it was wrapped around. She felt hot everywhere despite the chill of the night. A prickle of moisture just beneath the surface of her skin was lying in wait to eventually perspire down her body was ever lingering. Her heart was racing, and it wasnt just from the speed at which she walked.

Damn him, she cursed in her mind.

Most of the staff had gone to bed by this time. The only people occupying the halls were a sparse few royal gaurds, as most of them were concentrated on the outskirts of the property. They gave small bows to her as she passed by, she gave a brief curtsy and bid them goodnight.

She finally reached her chambers after what felt like hours, eventhough at max it was closer to five minutes. Somehow heading back from the library to her room felt longer than heading to the library to find her frustrating husband.

Despite her erratic movements from before, she closed the door slowly with a quiet click careful to not wake anyone nearby. As soon as the door closed behind her she leaned her back against its cool surface, letting out the longest sigh into the empty room. The cool wood, juxtaposed to the heat emitting off her frame had a small calming affect on her.

It didnt last long.

An irritation of two kinds bubbled to the surface. She clenched her jaw, "The fuckin' nerve on that man." Annie could hardly recall any man doing something like that to her.

But what pissed her off even more, was the fact that he had her in such a vulnerable position so easily and she didnt put up any fight. How docile she got just from a little handling from him. She just let herself land in the palm of his hand, and the things he was saying to her-

She covered her face with her hands letting out a bemused groan. Sitting right beside the anger she was feeling, was embarrassment.

The way I just asked that man to tell me what he'd do to me. That was way out of character for her. Even if it wasnt- it cut too close to begging for her comfort. It was even worse knowing that if he pushed just a little more she would've shamelessly let him do whatever he wanted to her right there in that library. Propriety be damned.

Made her almost forget herself. Something he seemed to have the knack for doing. It was getting out of control, even worse now that he now knew that she wasnt nearly as against his advances as previously let on.

He did all that, put her in a vulnerable position, leaving her wanting, just to pull away suddenly? Make demands? Talkin' 'bout how he'll keep doin' her like this 'till she confesses that she wants him as much as he wants her. If she was in her right mind she would've cussed his ass out- 'cause how dare he?

But instead she fled.

A man never made her run as much as he did. He was just so... intense when he's ready. Far from the men she was used to dealing with.

She placed a hand to her chest. Her heart was still beating rapidly, and she could feel every trecherous pulse of it beating right between her thighs. Like a constant reminder of the affect he had on her body... On her.

She grunted, pushing herself stiffly off the door and went straight to her bed, rearranging the pillows in the way she liked for sleep. She put the rest of the decorative pillows onto the ottoman that sat at the foot of her bed.

Once it was set to her liking, she grabbed her silk bonnet, turned off the singular light in the room that casted a warm glow across the room, and eased her way under the silk sheets. She shimmied her body around until she found a position that felt just right, and closed her eyes.

It seemed that the position she chose didnt sit quiet right with her. She didnt feel her body sink into the feeling of sleep like she wanted so she switched positions again, facing the curtained glass doors that led outside to their shared balcony, trying to melt into the bed and relax her body.

It didnt feel right again, her neck and chest still felt hot.

That incessant heat that settled low in her belly had not cooled down.

She was restless. She turned on her stomach, which became equally as uncomfortable after a while, her chest was pressing a bit into her ribs. She flipped over to her side again, hand tucked under her head as she stared into space in her darkened room, letting out a frustrated breath.

She flipped on to her back, eyes to the ceiling. Sleep was struggling to find her, a buzzing energy settled underneath her skin. That consistent pulse that she felt between her thighs was not going away, refusing to allow sleep to find her. The heat in her belly had not cooled down, every change of position, every movement of her legs added pressure exactly to where she was starting to ache. A temptation to touch was steady growing-

No. She refused.

He dont deserve my pleasure.

It seemed like her refusal made the throbbing worse. A budding wetness made its self known, she clenched her legs in hopes that it would stop it from getting any worse.

It didnt.

Her mind kept buzzing with the words he said, the way he touched her, wrapped his strong arms around her soft waist, how easily he maneuvered her around as she was by no means a petite woman. The feel of her body pressed against his. How for a second of insanity she purposefully brushed her hips against his when he spun her around to get an Idea of what he was carrying in those undergarments of his.

She was not disappointed... far from it as a matter of fact.

Those thick, full lips of his- She briefly imagined what they would look like between her legs- his wide callous hands wrapped around her thick thighs as he took his fill of her...

She clenched, her legs crossed between eachother tightened the slightest bit more.

A trecherous need to quench the fire that was building was steady growing. Her fingers twitched.

But once again she refused.

Like if she touched herself off the back of what just happened she would be admitting defeat of some nonsensical game they were playing with eachother. 'Cause thats exactly what it was, and thats what he was playing at. For her to give in to him. Her ego couldnt allow something like that, for some reason a paranoid, unreasonable part of her mind believed that if she touched herself to the thoughts of him, he would know in some way.

Knowing him, he would never let her have peace if he ever knew and with the last words he left her with he clearly had no intentions of coming up off from her.

She scoffed into the empty room, he has enough audacity drippin' off him to drown the whole kingdom with his annoyin' ass.

She resolved herself to simply refuse thinking about him. Veering into thoughts of duties that she had to take care of as a distraction, old wrinkled faces of the elders . In a way it did work... almost immediately dosing the fire building in her to just embers.

Her sleep was very fitful.

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Annie was not in a good mood.

Her lips seemingly stuck in a twisted in a frown as she rubbed at her puffy eyelids.

She didnt get nearly as much sleep as she would've wanted and it made her feel highly irritable. All thanks to Smoke.

The thought of his name crossing her mind made her grimace, but as always, a quiet knock at the door shifted her attention. She already had an idea of who it was before the door was cracked open.

"Goodmorning my Queen." Ruth piped cheerfully as she fluttered about the royal chambers, followed closely by Pearline, her smooth voice wafting across the room, "I hope you got yourself some good rest."

The queen kissed her teeth.

There was no way in hell she was gonna tell Pearline the reasoning behind her lack of sleep. Still, not wanting to be rude she answered anyways, prim, proper, and formal, "It was fine. Thank you for asking." Short and sweet.

The response made her friend lift a curious brow, but Pearline knowing Annie as well as she did made the choice to leave it for now. As stubborn as the queen was, trying to wrestle out what was troubling her was like pulling teeth.

She'll tell me when she's ready... Atleast I hope she does...

She made a beeline towards Anisa's closet, looking for a gown of the day.

Annie moved to her vanity and Ruth started on getting her hair in order, as the, usually, timid girl quietly rattled off about what kind of new braidstyles were in at the moment and if Annie wanted to try any. Annie let her choose what style the queen would wear for the day, " I trust that you wont have me out here lookin' crazy Ruth, go on an' choose a style for me." Lending the young girl a soft smile.

She figured giving the girl some freedom would aid in building up her confidence, make her feel more sure of herself. She could tell it was working little by little as the young girls footsteps no longer sounded like she didnt want to be heard, sounding more sure of herself, like she belonged here.

Annie turned her eyes toward Pearline sorting through her clothes and noticed the pointed absence of Mary... Once again. The last conversation she shared with her other friend crossing her mind " Why Mary aint with yall today?"

Pearline paused, before letting out an irritable huff "I dont know what's up with her, she all sulky an' she refuse to tell me whats wrong- oh, what color you feelin' today Ann'?", she added, still focused on the task at hand.

"Im feelin' red, -You know what got her down enough that she dont feel the need to show her face round here an' shirk her responsibilities?" Annie raised a manicured brow, her dormant irritation threatening to breach the surface.

"Girl, she aint tell me a thing-but judgin' by how she look at me with enough heat to set me on fire since her twin kissed my hand? I can think up a thing or two." Pearline finally wrenched out a warm red gown, just shy of looking almost orange. "How you feel 'bout this color. Its not a solid red, but I think it'll look real nice against your skin."

"Looks nice Pearl, I like it..." the queen trailed off, there was a thought plaguing her mind and she was deliberating on how much she wanted to divulge, if she wanted to say anything at all. From how things were looking there was already a simmering tension between Pearl and Mary, she decided against it for now. But she will most certainly have a conversation with Mary.

Cause clearly what I told her aint go through that thick skull of hers.

After Pearline and Ruth made their final touches on her outfit, Annie had an urge to take a stroll outside the estate walls before taking on the stress of the day.

She looked at the clock and knew forsure she'd have enough time to.

Just before the two ladies were about to excuse themselves for the rest of the morning, Annie spoke up,

"Before yall leave... would yall like to... Go on a walk with me?"

While she was met with enthusiasm with Ruth giving an immediate yes, Pearline paused for a second, face wrought with subdued suprise because, when was the last time the queen, her friend, offered to hangout outside of obligated times?

Annie's anxiety starting to bleed into her nerves as each second ticked by without a response from Pearline. She contemplated taking back the offer. She didnt want to make her long time friend feel as if she was obligated to just because she was monarch.

She didnt have to wait much longer because soon her worries were calmed when a warm smile slowly spread Pearlines lips, one that could be heard in her voice when she spoke."Which route you wanna take?"

"Let's go to some of the walkways just outside the estate, someplace I can exhale without my breath feelin' restricted. Its too stuffy up in here." Annie fidgeted around, unconsciously proving her own point.

"Girl, I thought you'd never ask- c'mon Ruth!" Pearline motioned excitedly.

.

.

.

"Im not gone lie Anisa, I dont know how you do it. Even me bein' here a few days back Im already startin' to feel stale. Like some old bread. Them few weeks I spent visitin' family- even with my ancient husband, was such a nice change of pace... You need a vacation or somethin' that takes you outta here for a little while, take a little edge off."

"I already had a vacation. I had a honey moon." Annie supplied confidently, brushing off the suggestion.

"-Which was still spent here and knowing you? A majority of that time was spent actin' like that man you married aint exist..." Pearline turned to Annie, her gaze expectant.

"I... It wasnt that bad, I allowed him to help me with my garden." The queen crossed her arms, and if Pearline was in her right mind she could've sworn it looked like the queen was pouting.

"You 'allowed' him?"

"Yeah, after I discovered he wouldnt stop pesturing me. I figured I might as well have given him somethin' to do."

"Anisa. Theres no way in hell you both felt refreshed from somethin' like that. An' seein' the way you two loom around eachother in all that loaded silence yall both walk around here with? You two carry enough tension to set this whole place on fire."

Annie stiffened, was it that obvious?

Almost as if Pearline read her mind, she Annie patted her on the back with a delicate hand, "Dont worry, aint nothin' obvious when it come to you an' that husband of yours. But I know you Anisa..." she trailed off.

A tension of a different sort say between them. One of a disconnection and a friends past unsuccessful efforts to be close once more.

Ruth, sensing a shift in the atmosphere between the two women slowed her steps giving them some space, before wandering off the trail into the long grass fields, a small movement between the blades caught her attention.

"Dont go too far now!" Anisa called, before she quieted down again, looking somewhere into the distance. She heard Ruth's response back, but didnt fully registered what the girl said.

Pearline didnt speak for a moment, panic in her mind started to set in. Feeling like she ruined what could've been a simple nice one on one outting with her closest friend that she hadnt had the chance to have in God knows how long. She should've been satisfied with just that... she shouldve-

"Hhm..." Annie breathed with introspection. "When you put it that way... I guess you gotta point. Might have to plan a vacation sometime. By myself." She asserted.

"You aint takin' Smoke with you?"

"His ass can stay here an build a damn castle from the ground up for all I care, since he got his nose stuck in all them damn architect books. He irritatin'."

Pearline chuckled, taking note of her friends stiff, closed off posture. While Anisa has been mostly herself, she could feel a buzzing energy of irritation surrounding her. She always had one, as she was having to constantly deal with egos and incompetency at times, she was always good at hiding it for the most part.

But today, she could tell Annie needed to get something off her chest, wether it was steam or something else entirely. Clearly as far as Pearline could tell, the source of her deepened ire was quiet obviously directed towards the king.

"He done anything wrong by you?" Pearline question seriously.

"No... maybe.." the previous annoyance on the queens face morphed between a strange mix of irritation and bashfulness. Her lips twinge.

Interesting

Though Anisa didnt say anything, Pearline had an idea of what it was that was bothering the queen.

"Anisa."

The weight in which Pearline uttered her name immediately drew Annies attention, she turned her eyes towards her friend.

"If this comes off as oversteppin', Im sorry but... have yall been intimate?"

"..."

"-Not that you gotta answer or anything. I just- well... I know what its like to feel a bit frustrated from the lack of, ehm..." Pearline looked towards Ruth wanting to know if she was within ear shot. Not because she felt it was a subject too grown for her ears, she was almost a woman grown and should be aware of these kinds of conversations, but because she didnt want to broach a personal subject of the Queen while others could be with in earshot.

"Hmph!" Annie let out a derisive snort, a scowl twisted her glossed lips.

Pearline stopped in her tracks, eyes widened. "Wait!... Annie" she said in disbelief. Her mind working into over drive. It wasnt an answer, but it was an answer.

Annie turned around, confused by the sudden outburst. "Huh... Girl what's wrong with you? Whatchu doin' all that for?"

"Annie... Anisa."

"Yes Pearl? You better start sayin' somethin' 'cause you 'bout to piss me off."

"Oh hush Anne, like you dont walk 'round here on the edge of cussin' somebody out all the time... as a matter of fact its only gotten worse since that Smoke of yours came along..." she stiffled a fit of laughter trying to escape.

"He aint my Smoke" she huffed, folding her arms across her chest.

"Well you sure is his Annie though..." Pearline teased cheekily, a chesire grin spread across her mouth.

That caught the queens attention, her eyes squinted, "What makes you think that?" She said it in such a blasé way, it was like she was asking about the time. She did made an effort to quiet the eagerness trying to bleed through her voice with the question... She was still pissed with him.

"Now Annie. Even if you wasnt my friend, anyone with eyes can see how that man dont play when it come to you... Now I aint seen much, but from all the whisperin' them servants do when they aint got nothin' better to do, and from what little Ive seen of that man? C'mon now."

"What you hear 'bout him from the servants? What they whisperin' about me an' him?" Annie was curious but on gaurd. Of course people talk, she didnt feel any sort of way about that, it was apart of being royalty.

"Well, when it comes to him, he's a more reserved man but he's been nothin' but kind to 'em..." she trailed off.

The queen hummed, but she could tell there was something Pearline was holding back.

"Go on" Annie prompted, "I aint gon' bite your head off or nothin', I can tell theres somethin' on the tip of your tongue you wanna spill."

"Well, I heard ol' boy came back not too long ago, Brandon. Went as soon as he came. Some said he was flyin' like a bat outta hell."

Annie tampered the smile threatening to break across her face when Pearline mentioned the speed at which Brandon got the hell on back to wherever he came from.

Pearline continued, leaning in conspiratorily, "Heard your husband had his ass cornered, bit the barrel of a gun right to his head. Scarin' the piss outta 'em. Don't help that some of the house keepers were talkin' 'bout how they could smell it off him when he left."

"Oh really?" She played, fake suprised.

"Nah, dont play me Anne. You was my friend longer than you been my queen, you been known about this."

"Yeah, I knew, he told me what he did that same night..."

"Really?"

"Yeah, Im not too suprised. He almost too upfront. Not that I mind really."

"Ah... I see." Pearline nodded in some understanding.

Annie cocked her head to the side quizzically, "I know you mentioned some of the housekeepers and servants gossipin', but Im curious... How you know them kinda details? He never mentioned usin' any kinda weapon. Though I wouldnt put it pass 'em.." Her mind floated back to the time he told her about his background as a mercenary with his twin.

Pearline sneered slightly, "Well, before that 'lil heffa decided to be all weird to me all 'cause she aint gotta leash on her twin, she told me a bit that she heard a bit from Stack, probly pillow talkin' or somethin'."

"Huh..." the queen muttered a knowing look on her face. Her mind was churning,

Smoke made no mentions of his brother bein' involved... Mary steady runnin' her mouth... Stack stirrin' things up...

She kissed her teeth, I aint got the patience for this shit...

Seeing her friend visibly getting worked up over the info she just gave her Pearline tried to soothe it over. " Im sorry, -I aint meant for this to upset you-"

Annie held a hand up to stop her mid sentence. "No Pearl... You didnt upset me, Im just thinkin', I... Thanks for lettin' me know." A smile returned to her face, honestly this little walk she's had with Pearline unfurled some of the tension she didnt realize she was carrying, her shoulders loosened slightly.

Maybe Pearline wasnt someone she had to keep at arms length... Maybe she could let her in just a little mor-

"Queen Anisa!"

Ugh

She knew that shrill voice anywhere. Pearline and Annie turned towards the direction it came from, Ruth a little deeper into the field doing the same.

Councilwoman Maevis, with her ever present scowl etched upon her face made her way to the three women, with two royal gaurds in toe.

"Looks like our little walk is comin' to an end early..." Pearline sighed.

Annie snorted, "Was only a matter of time. Things were too calm...", she turned to her friend, quiet for a moment. Hesitant in what she wanted to say to her.

"Thanks for takin' a walk with me." She let out a loose chuckle, " I didnt realize how much I needed this. How much I missed this..." Annie felt her eyes unexpectedly get heavy with emotion, a tell tale sign of her eyes feeling a bit misty, just before she steeled herself from getting too emotional.

Pearline grabbed a hold of both her hands, "Anisa... Im just happy you wanted me to come with you, I know things haven't been easy. Our friendship can't be what it used to- I mean, we aint kids anymore obviously, but..." she squeezed her hand a bit firmer, Annie felt the warmth of Pearlines hands seeping into her own, a stark contrast from the cool, crisp morning air. "Thank you."

"What you thankin' me for? I didnt do much-"

"Oh girl hush all that nonsense that's bout to leave that mouth a your's an' just listen." She said sternly. Surprisingly, Annie didnt argue, patiently waiting for what she had to say.

"I just wanted to thank you for trustin' me. For lettin' me in even for a little bit, even if its just this one time."

Annie wordlessly pulled Pearline into a long warm hug, slightly rocking eachother side to side, pouring into her what words could not suffice. "It wont be a one time thing Pearline... not if I have any say in it." She could feel her friend melt into at her words, releasing a quiet exhale like a weight was lifted off of her, the both of them really.

Looks like she needs this just as much as I did...

She could tell how sad it made Pearline to see Anisa pull away as she took on her duties over the years. At the time Annie thought it was the right thing to do. The paranoia was just too high to go from having a family one moment to both taken away from her for reasons that remained unknown to having the highest seat in the kingdom. To dealing with men and women alike always looking for an angle...

But maybe... just maybe she could let people get close again...

"Your highness!" The voice got closer.

"Alright", Annie started to pull away, not before rubbing her friends forearms soothingly before she let go of her. " Time to find out what this woman wants." She turned towards the field, seeing Ruth inspecting a black fuzzy caterpillar inching away along a blade a grass. "C'mon Ruth we headin' back now!", waving her over.

Maevis finally reached the pair at the same time Ruth scrambled her way to them aswell. The older woman face forever in that permanent scowl she carries, spoke, her voice slightly out of breath "Did you not here me calling for you?"

"Mhm" Anisa hummed noncommittedly as she began to make her trek back to the estate, her long gait caused the shorter woman to pick up the pace to remain next to her. "And you're all the way out here with no security. Why didnt you respond bac-"

"-Cause last time I checked you weren't in my schedule for today." She cut in sternly, making sure that Maevis could hear that she was not in the mood for any of her nonsense today. "So now Im here wondering what has you walkin' all this way to come and bother me while Im out here enjoying nature with my ladies?"

Maevis was quiet for a moment, taken aback by how biting the Queen was being this early in the day. Today was a day for her to tread lightly, as it seemed that Anisa's fuse was shorter than it normally was.

"I- uhm, well." Maevis cleared her throat, she felt her face warm with embarrassment from her sputtering, "Councilman Cyrus called for another meeting."

"What for?"

"He wanted to check the temperature on the king, see how he's doing with the blueprints for that Youth Center."

"Didnt we just give him those yesterday? How has there been enough time to check for his progression?" A frown already taking over Annie's lips.

"Its not a check for progression, he just wants to know where the king is at with it."

Like that aint vague as hell, Annie quipped in her mind, she already knew it was some bullshit from the get go. It didnt help that she didnt want to see Smoke's ass either.

"So what do I have to do with this? Why not just meet with him yourself?"

"We figured it would be good for you to just have an ear in it, just so your up to date."

Annie sighed, If yall were competent and did good on what you said, you wouldnt need me to be around all the damn time to listen to every little ass detail.

"Alright."

_______________

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.

.

Annie stiffly took her seat next to Smoke, agitation radiating off her in waves. He already looked heavily uninterested in this last minute meeting that he most likely thought was bullshit too.

The only good thing to thos was the fact that Maevis and Obidiah were more subdued in their demeanor this go 'round. No doubt they could feel that she was not in a very patient mood today like she normally was.

All that ire she was carrying in her chest; Mary, Stack, the Council, the whispers, Elijah without allowing much to spillover thanks to that much needed outting with Pearline was beginning to ramp back up. Especially now that she was right between two of the culprits that were part of the reason.

She spared no greeting, no aknowlgment whatsoever of her husband. He had the nerve to look put off by her restricted demeanor.

He needa fix his damn face, lookin' at me like I done him wrong or somethin'

Luckily her thoughts didnt show up on her face which remained neutral and stoic.

No one spoke, they all were looking to her to say something to get the ball rolling.

Already on a short fuse, Anisa broke the silence, voice low and clipped, "Well Im hear now. You dont need to wait on me to start."

All but Smoke fidgetted uncomfortably in their seats, the jingle of jewelry chiming together with each stilted movement with some quiet grumbling from the council.

It was a very clear sign to the elders that she was not having it with them today. Hell, she'd probly fire them on the spot if they said one wrong thing trying to push their luck like they would any other day.

Cyrus, sensing some of the mounting tension lightly coughed in his hand to add a break into an ever mounting tension. "Ehm- first I want to say thank you your majesty's for coming to this meeting on such a short notice... It is greatly appreciated. I assume Maevis explained the nature of this meeting my queen?"

She hummed in agreeance. It was the most aknowlegment he was going to get out of her today, so he went straight into the order of business.

"So... My King, how are you finding the planning for that youth center? I take it you been hard at work?"

Smoke gave a distracted hum, he had not taken his eyes off the Anisa from the moment she entered the councul meeting room all while she was pointedly not meeting his eyes. "Seein' as I only got the blueprints yesterday there aint much to report on, but its been goin', kinda wanted to rework the orginal build so Its been keepin' me busy."

"I bet it has" Anisa muttered under her breath. Smoke no doubt could detect the sarcastic haughtiness in her tone.

"Yeah. The library damn near became my second room right behind my bedroom." He grunted.

She stiffened a bit at the mention of the library, but her face gave nothing away. She hummed, choosing to ignore his goading, "Is that enough of an update for you? Councilman Cyrus?".

The older man seemed caught up in trying to piece together what was being said between the royal spouses and what wasnt said at the same time. "Cyrus-" Her stern voice cut through his wondering.

"Oh- uhm, yes my queen?" He sputtered, unsure and a little embarrassed to be caught not paying attention while simultaneously being the one to call this impromptu meeting in the first place.

"I believe, as you can see Cyrus, the king has everything under control, Im sure he'll ask for your aid should he he need it immediately." And with that, as far as Annie was concerned her part of the meeting was over, she shifted in her seat, ready to make her exit as soon as possible.

Luckily, for once in their old incompetent lives the elders got the hint and swiftly and quietly exited the room.

'Cause what she was not gonna do is play along with what Smoke was trying to get at. Tryna be lowkey slick mentionin that damn library. Let alone at a council meeting infront of company. Granted it was such a subtle comment, given the nature of the discussion, that no one would piece together an idea of what he was implying underneath, but still. It was already taking all of her patience to hang onto (barely) some form of politeness with everyone. That was not reserved for the man that was the aided in her being this prickly in the first place.

Once everyone left, Anisa fixed her skirts before getting up. As she did Elijah wrapped his strong fingers around her wrist, her bangles jingling at the motion. "You aint gotta be all snippy with me, the day just started and it look like you startin'."

This man-

She roughly wrenching her hand out of his firm hold. "Dont go on touchin' on me. I told you before already, you been lost your damn mind." She was out the door before he could get another word in. The skirt of her dress fluttering about with the speed she exited the room with.

It was like being brought back to the beginning, with the queen having this seemingly magical ability to dissappear from him again.

.

.

.

She didnt make an appearance at their shared balcony that evening, what had steadily become their ritual spot of quietly sitting with eachother before going to bed. Whether in shared silence or small talk.

Oh she real mad.

Elijah folded his hands behind his head staring up into the night sky. Watching the thin string of smoke from his cig curl amongst the numerous stars.

He let out a long exhale.

Maybe I pushed too much... He could feel something almost close to regret lightly hold around his chest. Not quiet a squeeze.

No... He immediately shut the thought down. With a woman like that, he'd have to draw it out of her, 'cause if he left it up to Annie, her stubborness wouldnt allow shit to happen whatsoever even if she herself wanted to. She'd just run all over him.

As fucked up as it was he couldnt find himself to fully feel bad about it. Not like she hadnt been teasing him all this time to get a reaction out of him.

And seeing how she reacted when he wrapped his arms around her... Elijah closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. That glimpse of her showing how she desired him- He shook his head, softly chuckling to himself before putting out the cigarette and heading to his bed.

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_________________

The next day didnt prove much difference.

Anisa was still holding out on him, avoiding him when she could, and when she couldnt she was being snippy with him, appearing to always have something to say whenever he spoke. She mostly did that when there weren't other people around, keeping things tense but still respectful infront of company.

It was amusing at first, but after a while Elijah was starting to get annoyed, already over the attitude that she was constantly, unrelentingly, giving him.

.

.

.

He managed to catch her walking down one of the outside corridors where there was always a pleasant breeze blowing through its columns.

He walked up next to her, discreetly folding his hand in hers. She must've been deep in thought because she jumped in suprise at the unexpected touch and proximity from him.

On realizing who had a hold on her arm he saw her face makeup almost instantly, she tried to pull her hand from his, but this time he was prepared for her to do something like that. He firmed his grasp on her hanf preventing her from leaving, "What are you?-",

"Just what do you think you doin'?" He grunted, eyebrows furrowed.

"Huh? What I think Im doin'? Tryna stay the hell away from you is what. Which you like to make impossible for me the way you chasin' me around like you some unruly dog with nothin' better to do."

"You better watch yourself woman." He warned.

"Or what?" She stopped and turn towards him, pushing into his space, puffing her chest out against his. "Whatchu gon' do Smoke? Huh?... Run your mouth some more? Talk about how you mean whatchu say? Drone on 'bout how you not like them "other" men?"

"Nah, you dont get to do me like that."

"Boy if you dont leave me 'lone-"

He firmed his grip on her arm and pulled her right back to him, "Uh-uh, Now what you not gon' do is start sayin' shit that aint true. You know what kinda things Im willin' to do for you. Things Ive already done. I even left that lame ass friend of yours live instead of just killin' his ass 'cause he made you upset in your house."

She paused, he saw her eyes flutter, she faltered slightly.

"Oh so you quiet now? Seemed like you couldnt run outta shit to say to me these past days."

That quickly broke her out of her little quiet spell she just had. At first she looked angry for a split second, before it quickly dissipated, replaced by a cool expression.

She hummed thoughfully, though the silence she held was charged.

"You know... not too long before I came to get you again from that meeting. The one where Cyrus first gave you those blue prints, I talked with Mary."

"..."

"She havin' some problems with that crazy twin of yours. Think he cheatin'."

"Hm." Smoke felt himself increasingly become more apprehensive, unsure of where she was going with this.

"Mhm. Said she wanted to switch twins cause he givin' her a headache... Maybe she's right."

She felt Smoke stiffen next to her

"The fuck you mean by that." His anger flared.

"I mean exactly what I say."

He kissed his teeth, " If you were in your right mind, you wouldnt take half the words that girl says out her mouth."

"And what? Im supposed to take your word over her's?"

"If you know whats good for you"

"If I know whats good for me?" She reiterated, incredulous. "You think just 'cause you been here a lil while as King and I give you some projects means you must know everything then huh?"

"That aint what Im sayin'. You need to watch that friend of yours."

"Mary? The woman thats been one of my closest friends since I was a child?" Her eyes turned to slits. "You gettin' way too comfortable to be sayin' shit thats not your place to say."

"Not my place? Im your husband, the one you married an' said all them vows to, so- I'd say its definitely my place to say that. You need to get rid of her ass."

"Why?"

"Cause she aint no good to you."

"How?"

Elijah paused, mulling over whether he wanted to tell her about the fact that she'd nearly slept with every past suitors of hers. Shit for all he knew those could've aided in her broken betrothals.

"She been sneakin' behind your back."

"Sneakin' doin" what exactly?" She folded her arms across her chest. Still agitated, but holding enough space to hear him out.

"All them past suitors of yours? The broken betrothals? She slept with a good amount of those men behind your back."

She froze as if she was put on pause, air didnt even stir from her. She held her breath altogether at the new information, digesting the bomb he dropped on her. She was quiet for what felt like hours before she finally spoke again, her voice quivered slightly but otherwise remained even.

"How do you know this? Where'd you hear that from?"

"Stack."

Her eye twitched. "Stack." She deadpanned.

"Mhm."

"An' Im just supposed to believe that? Comin' from the twin that like to stir up trouble?"

Elijah felt a flare of defensiveness over his younger twin but he kept his voice even, "You aint gotta believe it for it to be true, you cant keep someone around that moves like that. Its bad for business."

"Just bad for business?"

"Nah, it aint just that. She a shitty friend too."

Annie stared at him blankly, face unreadable, completely shut down from him. The change took him aback, loosening his hold on her. Her anger he was used to, her passion he was used to, and in small little pockets her joy as well, but this? The complete lack of reaction took him off gaurd.

His lax hold on her gave her room to slowly turn around and leave. Leaving him alone with nothing but an empty hall way and the gentle wind brushing against his clothes, and the ever growing distant clicking of her heels against the pavement.

.

.

.

She puts him on ice for several days after that. It wasnt like the previous times when she avoided him because he got on her nerves. This was pointed, overtly so.

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________________

Smoke ventured out the estate again, but instead of his usual trek around the perimeter he took a detour. Walking through the dense, thick foliage-covered narrow path. The path he first walked through when he came here.

Damn, havent even left this place since I won that tournament...

Annie. His wife was the reason he was walking around in the middle of the forest.

He would never admit it, but her silent treatment was getting to him.

Regret that had been hiding in the shadows of his mind were trying to make itself known, and not for the first or second time either. His earlier bravado and confidence he carried was starting to flag and doubts started to seep through.

He took a deep inhale of his cig, head tilted up towards the sky, watching the dappled rays of sunlight flash through the thick canopy of trees overhead. The air here was thick and humid with the type of warmth that sits and doesnt move. He'd only been walking a few minutes and there was beads of sweat cascading down the sides of his temple.

He exhaled, watching the smoke dissipate into the air, mind in deep thought.

Maybe... I should just leave her be... Give her space...

It was obviously the best thing to do.

The sane thing to do in a situation like this...

But Smoke was anything but sane when it came to Annie. The very idea of accepting her distance made his stomach churn, as if his body rejected the very thought of doing something like that despite his wife's very obvious attempts at keeping things like that between them.

"Shit dont even sound right." He said outloud to nobody but himself.

He knew that speaking on Mary would only drive a further wedge between them but he couldnt bring himself to regret that either. She needed to be aware of some one that moved with that kind of specificity in her circles.

The way Mary moved was pointed, a pattern...

Elijahs mind started thinking of all the possible motivations for Mary doing what she did, what for?

Did she want to be Queen? Was there hidden animosity on Mary's side? Is she just plain stupid? An adrenaline junkie that gets off on the idea of doing things she wasnt supposed to be doing?

After watching how Mary moved for a while he was inclined to believe that the girl was plain stupid and just loved trouble... Maybe she did want to be queen, but as far as he knew and what Stack ran his mouth about her, he didnt pick up on her making moves that could lead to that kind of conclusion.

Didnt hear about or see Mary communicate with the councilmembers or show any initiative in taking on responsibilities, quiet the opposite actually. She seemed to like to lounge around with nothing much to do and just enjoy the lavish lifestyle of the uppercrust. Then again, maybe she wanted to be queen from the little power trips she seem to like having, as small as they seem to be.

But she made no moves to network, or make friends or acquaintances with any of the staff and servants. Not even visiting lords or ladies...

Unless she tryin' to sleep with they asses too...

She seemed to isolate herself in all aspects except between herself and the Queen, and their friend Pearline. But even that is getting shakey now, seeing how Stack's interaction with the woman pretty easily drove a wedge between the two, judging how she was huffing and puffing and ready to blow the whole damn house down, when his twin kissed her hand.

Either way it didnt matter. If it was up to him, he'd get rid of her ass in anyway he could just cause. He knew Annie would hate him for it... Probly Stack too. Lord knows what the fuck they got goin' on 'tween them two...

He had no idea what the hell was the nature of the relationship between his twin and that girl. Either way he was gonna have to have a serious talk with Stack eventually. He could sense all the moving parts leading up to something. Whether it was good or bad was anybodies guess.

Smoke hummed, "Man... you really know how to pick 'em Elias..." He said sarcastically to no one in particular, it was just him and the trees and their roots there to offer him a listening ear.

"Damn..." His cigarette was already finished. His mind must have drifted longer than he thought. He couldnt help but laugh at himself, the irony of it all. One of the first things he told Stack before going through this crazy plan of his was that he wasnt going any Politicking. And now look at him, tryning to piece something together.

He knew the reason behind this change of heart. It was that frustrating woman he couldnt get enough of, the one currently driving him insane with the way she snatched her presence away from him, and how determined she was in keeping it that way. "Tch." He crushed the butt of his cigarrette before flicking it into the brush. He turned around, heading back to the compound, whatever was happening the fuse had been lit a long time ago. It was only a matter of time before things would blow up. It was anyone's guess as to exactly what that would look like.

Soon as he reached the front gate he saw his brother waiting for him, gesturing at him with his hands animatedly. "Man what the hell? You know I been lookin' for you? Where you been?"

"Took a walk, needed to clear my mind."

"An you just left by yourself? Don't no gaurd come witchu or some shit? Whatchu need to clear your mind for?"

"They seen how I fight, I dont need no gaurdin' I tell 'em when their needed an' when their not, and in this case Im still in the front yard of the property." He grumbled impatiently, his own fuse was getting shorter each day. Not like he had a long one to begin with.

"I aint never seen you walk off that far, what had you runnin up an' down the jungle cause it was botherin' you that much?..."

Smoke didnt answer. Something Stack noticed he was starting to do more and more these days. He didnt like it. This new found distance that he was starting to feel grow between them.

Stack stopped talking for a moment. There was only one other person on earth that he knew would have Smoke moping around like this.

"Damn, you walkin' around tense as fuck. Got your shoulders damn near scrunched up to your ears and walk all stiff like you got a stick up your ass or somethin'. If you dont go an' put it on her good, all this bickerin' you two be doin' might be the end of all of us". Despite light hearted manner in which he spoke, he couldnt help the slight frustration he was starting to feel with his older brother leak through.

Smoke breeze right on past him without another word.

.

.

.

He set out looking for her.

He checked the gardens, she wasnt there.

The council room?

Not there either.

The kitchens?

Nope.

Library?

Hell no.

He chanced their shared balcony, thinking maybe she retired early in her efforts in avoiding him the whole damn time.

He was tempted to ask one of the servants on her whereabouts. Maybe Nina? Probly not, she was damn near like a daughter to Annie the way she worries about her. Maybe Damian? He was damn near becoming a mini Smoke the way the young boy would shadow him at times. It didnt help that Elijah always seem to have his favorite sweets with him whenever Damian scampered about, most likely doing what he wasnt supposed to. The boy stayed getting in trouble with the head maid.

Nah...

Not only would word of him looking for her reach Anisa before he could ever find her with the way word travels fast through the halls, (probly why shes been so good at avoiding him so far.) he didnt really want to involve anyone in their petty little spat they were having, let alone the younger ones.

Pearline and Mary were out of the question.

Smoke left the balcony, then his chambers. Once again found himself wandering the the hallways until he walked past the central courtyard again, irritated and somewhat aimless. The rush of the garden waterfalls did nothing to calm his agitated nerves.

Until he heard the sounds of footsteps approaching him from behind at an increasing pace. His body tensed immediately. The feeling of being snuck up on made his body pull tight, ready to spring into action at a moments notice, but he had to remind himself that he shares a space with multiple people, and he wasnt in the mercenary business anymore.

A feminine voice, one that most definitely was not Annie, obnoxiously cleared her throat behind him. An indication that the owner of the voice was expecting a response from him.

He turned, a scowl firmly fixed to his face, to see who it was. He was met by the pissed off form of the very last person he wanted to see right now.

Mary.

In another slim pink gown, brunette hair perfectly curled, and the incessantly tapping of her foot echoing across the expansive corridor. She was close to wearing her heel down to the sole at the rate she was going.

"Now, I don't remember exchangin' any kinda of words with you, but just who do you think your clearin' your throat at?" He rasped warningly, low and quiet

Mary looked slightly taken a back. His tone sounded different, but she quickly gathered herself, eyes narrowed. "Just who you think your talkin' to Stack? I been lookin' all over for you-"

"Who do you think your talkin to?" He cut in, "For how you stay up under his ass you should be able to tell the difference 'tween us."

"Smoke?..."

"Mary"

Her previous bravado deflated almost instantly, realising she was addressing the wrong twin. Drawing into herself, becoming almost meek.

"Well- um... have you seen 'em? Your brother I mean."

"Yeah, just passed him at the front gate." He tileted his head in its direction. "That's where you'll find 'em if he aint move from now."

"Oh- ok..."

She stayed rooted to the spot.

Smoke turned to continue his search, but he felt Mary's hand grab his wrist before he could fully walk away, "wait!-". He turned towards her, and she let go of his wrist just as quickly, as if she unkowingly put her hand on a hot stove top and burned herself.

"Whatchu want girl, I aint got all day."

"You lookin' for Annie?"

His ears perked, but he had his reservations still, especially with this woman right here... But it had been several days since he last talked or seen Annie. Still he didnt respond. Not that he needed to anyways, as Mary continued talking even though he didnt say anything back, just stared at her with the same scowl he carried everywhere with him.

"She always dissappearin' it seems..." she trailed off.

Hm...

Smoke wasnt a stupid man, running the streets as long as he and Stack have. He had an inkling of where this was going, but he needed confirmation of something. 'Cause if there was one thing Annie pointed out that he couldnt blame her for being suspicious of, is the fact that the info he got from Mary primarily came through Stack.

A man that at this very moment, the queen trusted as far as she could throw him, which wasnt much at all.

And all Smoke had besides that were assumptions and suspicions. Nothing concrete.

Shit- this was more of Stacks area of expertise, but as far as he was concerned Mary was a liability to Anisa, to his brother. And for that simple reason he wanted her ass out of here.

"Is that right?..." he didnt like the idea of having to seem intrigued by this kind of gossip, but he needed to give her rope, and if his assumptions were right, it would be just enough for her to hang herself with...

"Yeah. You aint gotta say nothin' shes my friend, known her since we was kids and could barely string words together." Mary breathed out a light chuckle, filling in the uncomfortable stretch of silence, as Smoke remained stone still. His unwavering eye contact made her feel slightly uneasy, but she pushed on. "I know she aint always the easiest woman to deal with. Seein' whats been goin' on between you two its not hard to assume that it's somethin' your already aware of."

"What makes you say that? What's a 'lil bickerin' gon' do to me? That shit dont bother me none. I like a woman with a 'lil bite." He shrugged.

"Yeah, but all the time though? I cant recall a long enough period where yall two went without there bein' an issue. You dont crave a 'lil peace?..."

Oh she bold.

"An' whatchu know 'bout peace?" He grunted, like you dont do shit but carry trouble an' cause problems. His patience for this was already ticking with each second he was spent hold up by her and hearing how Mary was speaking of Annie was not helping.

He saw a flash of movement from the corner of his eyes. His sight briefly flitted to a shadowed hallway.

"Oh I know plenty 'bout it... Know enough to see that, that aint what you gettin' from her-"

"You betta watch that loose mouth a your's, talkin' bout my wife like that." He stepped to the woman, his presence looming over her slight form. Her eyes widened for a split second, her stance faltered.

Smoke didnt let up, "Dont think I dont know whatchu tryna do. What you've done already- goin' 'round behind her back, fuckin' the scraps she wouldnt give the time of day to."

She was taken aback, her body jerked as if he'd just slapped her. Her face heated with embarrassment, a ruddy pink marring her cheeks as she began to sputter, " I- wha? Where you hear that from?!" She hissed.

Not a denial. Not a defense. An accusation that carried venom and a silent vow to poison whoever leaked such info and allowed such a thing to spread.

"Dont matter." He gruffed, his words final.

"You tell anyone this?"

He remained silent, it was the loudest silence Mary ever heard in her life, her body language screamed of agitation. The way her fingers started fidgeting. That mouth of her's that always put on gentle smile contorted into a deep sneer. Until suddenly she stopped fidgetinf, he could see in real time the gears turning in her head as she was caught red handed.

Her light unbothered tone contrasted the twisted look on her face. "I find out anyone else know about this... find out if they heard it from you? If I Annie hear about this, Imma bury you. Ruin this shit for you an' your brother quicker than you can reach the end of this damn hallway, your asses will be gone 'fore the sun even get a chance to set the same day..."

He leaned away, a cool mask of indifference took over his expression, folding his arms across his wide chest. He cocked his head to the side, looked her up and down and it wasnt in a suggestive manner. He was analyzing her, deliberating.

"Im gone' tell you somethin', an' Im only gon' say this once. You can go head an' do whatever it is you do, just know this... You out here threatin' me... Threatenin' my baby brother, sneakin' my wife. Ill make sure your ass is buried 'fore the night ends whether they send my ass away or not. Shoot, I might even put your body beneath them pretty flowers beds by the fountain or maybe Annie's 'lil herb garden. 'Least that way you'd be some use to her, returning her kindness to you by bein' fertilizer for her lemongrass or her ginger root that she put in them little healin' remedies of hers..." the casual tone of his would've fooled someone into thinking he was discussing something as inoffensive as what the time was.

He scoffed, "Only thing savin' you from me gettin' rid of your 'lil pasty ass is that Annie would hate me for it." And with that he breeze past her unfazed, his path took a detour, fillowing the hallways where he could've sworn he detected movement.

Leaving a behind a speechless Mary rooted to the spot, her heart in her throat. A part of her wanted to retaliate, call his bluff but...Something about the older twin made her stop herself. If even half of the things Stack said to her were true about what he and Smoke did to make Brandon tuck tail and scurry on outta here... Then he wasnt a man that made empty threats, he made promises.

A shiver went up her spine. The chill that came over the intimidating man when she threatened him was unlike anything she experienced.

Mary resumed walking, her movements stilted and akward, as if in a daze. Her mind was a maelstrom with this new revelation that he knew of some of her escapades with the queens ex suitors which meant there were more than a couple of people were privy to the "rumor".

She was determined to find out how he found out. She had an inkling of who it might be...

_________________

.

.

.

Smoke walked towards the hallways were he swore he could sense movement. He didnt know why but something in him told him to follow. He thought he was going crazy cause there was no noise to accompany the idea that someone was there, until he reached the open mouth entrance that led into an interior of the main building. A flash of a deep Azure hemline skirt disappeared around a corner before he could fully catch whoever it was.

He followed, his feet picking up the pace to catch up to them. Clearly the person heard him trailing because he could hear the click of their footsteps quicken, aware of the fact that they were being followed.

He bent another corner, almost crashing into Nina, "-Oh! Greetings your highness is there something going on? You look to be in as much of a rush as-"

"''Scuse me, sorry Nina- cant talk right now. I'll get back witcha'." Manuervering around the young lady without a hitch, just in time enough to catch more of the skirt of a royal blue dress dissappear around the corner.

The closer he got, he could hear the soft chimes of delicate jewelry brushing against one another. There was only one person that it could be walking around with that distinct noise.

He was increasingly closing the distance following through the maze of hallways, each turn getting closer and closer. Until one final turn had him able to see her fully before she turned another corner. The swiftness in which she moved was starting to make him dizzy and the constant evasion was starting to piss him off.

"Annie"

He heard her footsteps falter at the mention of her name... Right before she picked up the pace again.

Luckily for Elijah, that slight falter she made allowed him time to close the distance she was keeping between them just a bit more. When he his the next turn he was able to fully see the back of her. Her deep blue gown fluttering just above the ground, making it look as if she was floating across the stone floors. Her smooth, deep brown skin looked radiant even in the diffused lighting of the windowless hallways of the interior. Even now the glint of her ever present golden jewelry caught in the low-light like a beacon.

He drank the image of her in, like a parched man stumbling upon an oasis after wandering the desert for many days.

"Anisa."

She ignored him.

"Annie! I know you hear me callin' you-" he grunted.

She walked up some steps, the light of the sun coming back in full force. His eyes squinting against sun light peaking through the pillars of the second floor of the estate walkways.

He knew exactly where she was headed, as it was mostly royalty and their guests were stationed on the second floor of the main compound. She was heading to her chambers. No doubt to lock him out. Literally.

Just as he passed the door to his own room, Annie had her hand firmly wrapped around the door handle to her Royal chamber ready to twist.

"-You better come an' talk to me. I know you heard all that."

She opened the door with a little more force than necessary. He expected an immediate slamming of the door in his face as she physically communicated how much she did NOT want to talk with him.

She stormed past him but unexpectedly left her door completely opened. A silent invitation, albeit a tenuous one.

He slowly walked in, realizing in all this time he never been in her room before. It felt cozy, the warm, spiced scent washed over him like a phantom's touch. Cinnamon? Her room was an array of earth tones. He could see it having a calming effect on anyone embraced by the space. But at the very moment, it felt as unwelcoming as the woman who it belonged to.

"Well?..."

A dry, humorless laugh escaped her. She shook her head, her back still facing him. "Boy you... you REALLY got alot of nerve."

"Then tell me. Tell me how I got a lot of nerve then." For as deceptively calm they both sounded, there was an ocean of unresolved tension, things left unsaid, and an undercurrent of emotions in its depths threatening to spill over, like a fractured dam whose faults only grew bigger, and deeper overtime.

Annie let out a tired, frustrated sigh. "You... you just-" she turned, facing him. Her brows furrowed, face full of displeasure, her full lips turned up in a frown. None of it took away from how beautiful she was.

"You know what? Nevermind, I dont know what I was thinkin'. Leave." She waved him off.

"No."

"What?"

"I said no. I aint leavin' this here room." He said with an edge of stubborness, promising to be just as difficult as her in this moment.

"If you dont leave I'll-"

"You'll what? You been avoidin' for almost a while week now without another word. Were going to talk."

"There aint much to talk about."

"The fuck you mean there aint much to talk about?"

"Well, there aint. You proved your point. Heard it straight from the horses mouth that my friend I've known for almost my whole life been on some back doorin' shit. You happy now?"

When He didnt respond immediately Annie continued,

"For all I know she might be part of the reason for my reputation being known as being "difficult" to be betrothed to. The reason my council came up with makin' a whole fiasco of a tournament just to get someone to marry me, like Im some unruly, desperate woman whose unfit to be a wife. Shit- they probly makin' me look like Im unfit to be a damn ruler." Her breathing became slightly elevated, she was getting worked up.

"After all the things I gone through..." she locked eyes with Smoke. "She was right along with me, seein' all the moments where I started feelin' like I was inadequate. As a woman... As a potential wife..." her voice becoming uncharacteristically small, a crack in her vulnerability.

"An here I was, isolatin' myself from her an' Pearline, thinkin' it was the right thing to do. Maybe somethin' in me felt that things were off. I was just too distracted." She brought her hands to her face, covering it as she took a deep breath.

"Now Im here feelin' like a damn fool after you told me what she was about. An' I refused to listen...Is that what you wanted huh? To prove a point?" Her temper flaring back up.

"No thats not-"

"Maybe you shouldnt have turned her down. Since she seems to know so much about bein' a mans peace, seems like its worked for her so far, I aint built for that shit."

"You aint even makin' no damn sense right now woman. How much you heard?"

"I heard enough. I aint gotta make sense to you, you stay talkin' bout how you not like them other bums I dealt with before and you know what? You right. You way worse then any man I had to deal with, you just wanna prove a point, thats all you wanna do." She hissed at him, pushing at his sturdy chest.

"Now get the fuck outta my room Smoke, I dont know what the hell you thought you was gon' accomplish followin' me all the way up here." She turned her back, pointed letting him know that the conversation was over and she would ignore him beyond this point.

Wordlessly, and not for the first time either, Elijah grabbed a hold of her arm, spinning her around to face him, his eyes so heavy on her, she swore she could feel the weight of his gaze. "How many times you gon' grab me?!-"

His voice came quiet, low and raspy, " As many times until you remember that, that aint the name you call me." He walked her backwards, firm but not forcefully, his grip loose enough that if she wanted to escape she always could.

She never did.

The back of her knees met the side of her bed and he continued to press until her back met her bed. Her soft body jostled slightly off the springy mattress.

A sharp breath escaped her, completely caught off gaurd as Elijah loomed over her, strong hands still wrapped around her wrists. Her eyebrows creased together, nose widened in anger, preparing to curse him out or slap the hell out him, maybe both. "If you dont get your sorry ass-", he grabbed her face, pulling towards him, searing her lips with an almost bruising pressure. Teeth almost clacking together in the heat of it. As if he was trying to pour out every once of anger and irritation he was building towards her in that one kiss.

Disappointingly she feels her own body yield slightly. Feeling her shift in demeanor, he softened, with her now able to feel the plushness of his own lips fully as he switched to lightly nipping her own, before he pulled his face away from hers. His breath newly labored from him kissing her, his face showing only mild irritation. "You dont know what you do to me? You piss me off like nobody else." He moved his face to the side of her neck, she could feel the vibration of his voice rumble against her own chest. The warmth of his breath ghosted across the nape of her neck, " An' nobody put a fire in me like you do." He lightly kissed her neck. She instinctively moved her head to the side to give him more access letting out a soft sigh, before he started to travel a little lower. "If you aint have a heart for her ass, I woulda done her the same way I did your other "childhood friend, 'cept I would've finished the job" His voice rough and gravely, juxtaposed to how he softly nipped at her collar bone.

"Dont say them kinda things. You dont mean that 'Lijah", she groaned. Her jewelry chimed with every slight squirm she made.

There it was, the way her rich soft tone wrapped around her little nickname for him. He pulled back, "when you gon' learn woman? How many times imma have to tell you I say what I mean..."

His hands that rested at her wrists started to move. Gently grazing across her smooth skin with the delicate lightness of a feather, a sharp contrast to his earlier handling of her. Wherever he touched he left a trail of heat and goosebumps in its wake. Distractingly making her hyper aware of the position they were in now. That intensity in his eyes never changed, as his hand settled on her waist briefly.

"I know what gotchu more upset, you bein' more vicious than usual... Its my fault aint it?" He cooed softly.

His warm callous fingers lightly fanned across her body. His hands traveled up, brushing over her sides, chest, barely grazing her peaked nipples as he brought both hands to either side of her neck. Leaving a trail of heat in their wake wherever he touched, before he seared his lips across her own once more, this time much more gentler than before. Her breathing deepened and her body became restless.

He didnt linger too long, she felt his warm hands start to travel lower and could feel her body start to heat up in anticipation, her body kept the score from when he last touched her. When he set a fire in her so deep it refused to cool down since. Distance just made the ache worse.

She was so keenly aware of his touch as one of his hands traveled lower, brushing past her hips, Annie could've sworn she could feel every ridge of his fingertips prints through her dress.

She held her breath, body taut, wordlessly shifting her legs, slightly parting them. A silent invitation. One he took graciously.

His hand traveled up one of her plush thighs, before reaching its destination at its apex. He cupped her, resting his hand against her panties. Feeling of soft, warm, and undeniably wet she was, if the dampness he could feel there was any indication, before shifting it to the side, feeling the heat of her flesh underneath. Only a slight hitch of her breath was the only sound she made giving away how much his touch was affecting her.

"Looks like 'lil miss down her got more sense than you" he murmured. He held his hand still, barely applying any of the pressure Annie really needed as she'd been incessantly aching.

She shifts her hips, attempting to push herself onto his hand, but feels him pull back again. She let's out a sound of pure frustration mixed in with desperation, she was starting to ache just shy of being uncomfortable.

Elijah's voice roughly cut through, "I already told you what I wanted to hear from you Annie. I need to hear it straight from your lips-" she lifts herself up from her lying position, her elbows digging into the mattress. She was already at her wits end with want, and he just set her off with his demands of her.

"What the hell is wrong with you? Your dick dont work or somethin?" She hissed.

"Whatchu just say?"

"You heard me." She responded, defiant.

As defiantly as one could look with his hand beneath her skirt. He froze, his face blank aside from his blown out pupils, eyes almost black against the diffused sunlight that flitered through the sheer curtains against the windows of her room.

She almost regretted what she said until he felt his hand move, applying morr pressure to where she was silently begging the most. She lets out a light puff of breath at the change, becoming very still as she leaned back down.

"You angry with me baby?..." His hands start to gently caress her folds, fingers grazing her clit with lightness of a feather, more pressure than he applied before, but not nearly enough as she needed.

"Smoke-" she gritted her teeth, the feeling of desperation was slowly starting to rear its ugly head.

"That aint my name- and I asked you a question." He berated roughly.

"Yes! Im angry with you" She hissed, but there was an unmistakable whine saturated along the edges of her tone. She turned her head to the side, as if she wanted to bury herself away somewhere. The admittance making her oddly feel vulnerable. A small part of her wanting to escape the unwavering focus of Elijah's dark eyes. Until she faced him again, her doe eyes boring into his before allowing herself to release her unfiltered frustrations.

"You comin' and tellin' me that my friend that I've known for almost all my life, been sneakin' behind my back with men that were courtin' me, just for me to come and see her try that with you- and then you-." She stops herself mid rant, letting out a harsh exhale as Elijah started to add more pressure, circling her clit gently before sliding his hand further down to where her she was yearning for the most. He slightly pushed one of his fingers into her wet opening, not enough to penetrate, but enough to feel its promise.

"Elijah..." she quietly groaned, it wasnt enough.

"I dont give a shit 'bout that lil heffa you call friend, an' whatever the fuck she up to. Im talkin' to you, about you." He grunted, "Its a part. But that aint all why you angry with me." He rasped, he grabbed one of her legs, lifting it slightly and pulling it to the side, spreading her open a bit wider to give him some more room for his fingers to work, one of them inserting itself deeper into her

"Ah- I-", Annie turned her head to the side, eyebrows scrunched together, eyes screwed shut. She felt more wetness pool out from her, her kneejerk instinct to close her legs were blocked by his body being in the way, leaving her open at his mercy.

"That dont sound like nothing to me, use your words woman. You aint have no problems usin' em' when you was lashin' out on me. Like Im some aint shit bum on the street that you can talk any which way to, like I aint your husband. What else are you angry with me about?" He pushed, his smokey voice wrapped around her like his namesake.

She was soaking so much so from all the pent up sexual frustration she was feeling that she could hear how much noise her pussy was making. Even the intrusion from his finger had her walls fluttering, desperate to pull him in further, hungry for more

"Im mad at how... how you left me." She rasped. Anticipation was starting to kill her.

"How I leave you?"

"You already know how you left me-"

"Nah Annie, I already told you. You better start usin' them words or I swear 'fore God Imma stop right now."

Annie felt her temper flare "how 'bout you leave me the fuck alone then If you aint gon' do shit"

He pulled away taking her undergarment with him, the heat of his hand leaving her where she craved most had her ready to properly cuss him out.

"You-"

"Hush up all that damn noise" He barked, "You sittin' here yellin' at me, talkin' to me any sorta way- all while you leakin' like a faucet up under me, messin' up these nice 'lil expensive sheets of yours an' I barely even touched you yet."

He roughly grabbed her hips pulled her towards his. Resting her now bare pussy onto his clothed manhood. She unashamedly tried to grind herself onto him, just to seek some kind of release, any. But the infernal man firmed his strong grip on her hips, restricting her movement. She almost let out a sob, biting her lip to prevent such a pathetic sound from escaping.

At this point she didnt even understand her stubborness, her refusal to give him what he wanted, but he was really starting to wear her down. Little cracks were beginning to form in her previously iron clad resolve. She wanted him. Bad.

As bad as he wanted her.

Just as she was about to throw caution into the wind and take pleasure for herself she felt him starting pull back slightly again, to deny her again. Her thick thighs that were previously laid out to either side wrapped around him, preventing him from fully leaving.

"You talkin' 'bout how Im crazy an' you over here makin' no kind of sense. You tell me to leave you alone and then you got your legs wrapped round me like you aint ever want me to leave. Which is it huh? You want me gone, or you want me to stay? I already told you what I want from you."

"..."

"You better say somethin' Anisa or I'll leave you as is." He warned.

"I-...", She fell silent giving no answer.

Smokes patience was wearing thin, unexpectedly he grabbed Annies hips, tilting her pelvis slightly upward with her legs spread. She let out a startled grunt. He grabbed one of the pillows that was strewn about the bed in all the rustling they were doing and placed it under her hips. He leaned back slightly drinking her in, eyes half-lidded.

The skirt of her dress had ridden up past her hips, fully exposing her lower half. Her upper half was askewed, no thanks to his earlier ministrations. One of the sleeves of her dress hung off the sides of her shoulder, her generous chest threatened to spill out of her top, her body completely lax, her hands splayed to her sides. Her beautiful piercing eyes almost arrested him on the spot,

Fuck. There aint no one on Gods green earth that deserves to see such a sight. Hell, he didnt even know what good he did in his fucked up life to deserve to see such a thing...

He quickly regrouped himself, focusing on the task at hand. He hadnt said a word.

Eventhough just moments ago Annie wrapped her legs around him to keep him here this new position felt deeply vulnerable and exposing as from where he situated her, he was looking directly at her fluttering pussy.

Oddly enough, the need to cover herself never came, the new position allowed her to melt into the soft mattress, even with the intense scrutiny Elijahs hooded eyes were giving her. A quiet, maybe equally insane part of her loved when all of his focus was directed towards her. However intense it was, she consumed it all like an addiction.

His raspy graveled tone cut through the breathing silence between them,"You dont wanna tell me? Fine... but you better show me."

"Show you?" Her voice breathless.

"Mhm..." His voice low, eyes lowered.

She didnt know what possessed her, but she reached down between her spread legs, parting her lower lips and started touching herself.

Circling her stiff nub, before flicking it side to side, she needed more. She released a sharp exhale, not realizing how long she was holding her breath.

Elijah locked in on her hand, watching as it gradually became more and more covered in her own arousal, the glide of her fingers becoming smoother as she continued to play with herself.

"When's..." he trailed off at a loss of words. He was in a trance. "When's the last time you touched yourself?" The words came out uncharacteristically strained.

"I- It's been a while... I almost did..."

"When"

He watched her hand intensely as she moved it lower, cirling her entrance but never penetrating, not only could he see how wet she was getting, he heard it. Everytime she brushed her opening it was as if he could hear her pussy trying to suck her own fingers in.

He was impossibly hard, he was almost suprise his dick didnt just burst open through his trousers.

"T-that night after the library... When I left you." Her breath hitched, she fucking herself with her fingers slowly.

"Why didnt you?"

"I- ah, I didnt think you deserved it." She whined.

"Didnt deserve what? Your pleasure? Your pussy? You?" He asked, stern, but an edge of desperation. His control was wearing thin, fraying at the edges.

He grabbed one of her legs in an almost vice-like grip, lifting it up resting it against his shoulder, parting them wider, just shy of uncomfortable.

"Ahn-" The unexpected shift made her fingers plunge deeper than she anticipated.

"Im waitin' Annie."

"Yesss..."

He hummed.

"You didnt..." she paused, "you aint made no good on your promises. You left me..."

"How I leave you?" He mummured softly against the skin of her ankle, restrained but anxious to hear what truth would leave her trembling lips.

"You left me aching... I-" she sped up her pace, fingers working furiously, her thumb brushing back up against her clit as she fucked herself with her fingers. Her head tipped back, exposing the line of her neck, necklaces sliding against each other at the action, no longer nestled between her breasts as they pooled against her neck and collar bone. "Ugh..." she groaned, low in her throat.

Elijah felt the muscles in her legs tense up, her hips twitched, simultaneously lifting and pulling away, as if they were unsure whether they wanted to move away or towards the release she was chasing.

Elijah quietly watched her, watched as her fingers moved in and out of her pussy, the closer she got to her peaked the wetter she got. The wet, squelching noises emanating from between her legs were down right filthy. It was music to his ears.

Her whines reached a fever pitch. He watched as her walls clenched around her digits then released. Then clench again, then release. She was close, her face twisted in a grimace, biting the bottom of her full lips. Breathing heavily, concentrated on reaching her peak.

Just as she felt her release coming, Elijah grabbed her wrist, stilling her movements.

A sob escaped her lips, "Lijah please-!" She almost thrashed herself around the bed. He lowered himself, pressing chest to chest watching as she squirmed. Her eyes were wet with desperation, she looked close to crying.

"Annie... look at me." he cooed quietly, calm in a way that commanded her attention. "You let me take care of you. Ya' hear me?"

She nodded her head so slightly, he wouldve almost not registered it. "Elijah please... I want more... I want you, please... take care of me. 'Lijah." She begged quietly, she couldnt take anymore, she felt like she was about to explode.

He kissed her softly, before pulling back "Thank you mama. Thats my good girl..." he spoke softly against her lips.

He knew how much weight those words carried for her. It was more than just to satisfy her, he wanted her to let him take care of her in anyway he could. If she allowed.

He gently pulled her hand from between her legs, making her whine softly at the loss. "Shh... Dont worry, Imma make it all better. I know you achin' baby. I know its my fault." He brought her hand towards his face, her fingers coated in her essence, before he brought them to his lips, getting a taste of her on his tongue. He stiffled a moan that threatened to to make itself known. He needed to taste her, needed it more than anything right now.

He replaced her hand back with his own, she was soaking. It made it easy for him to glide his fingers through her lips before inserting his fingers into her heat, all the way down to the knuckle with almost no resistance. She clenched around him in a vice grip. He couldnt help the groan that escaped his mouth. Her pussy held on to him like she never wanted him to leave her.

The noises coming out of Annie grew in volume, stiffled moans and choked off whines were the only things she was could manage. Her body was vibrating.

He slid against her body, removing his hand while he was lowering himself until she could feel his cool breath ghosted across her heated center. It made her shiver in anticipation, her already elevated heart rate sped up just a bit more. She lifted her legs, wrapping them around his shoulders. In turn he wrapped his strong arms around her thighs, anchoring him to her, leaving no space for her to run if she wanted to.

He didnt let her wait before he went straight to it. Dragging his tongue across her slit, before thrusting it into her opening, licking on her like he was trying to swallow her whole. The sensation coupled with his nose bumping across her clit in tandem had her groaning, long and low.

He felt her fingers card through his curls, her nails scraping across his scalp, just shy of pain. It sent a shiver down his spine. He traveled up, focusing his attention directly on her nub, flicking it side to side. He moved his hands, one thumb sliding across her slit before it crooked, pushing one of her pussy lips to the side, exposing her innerlips to the cool air of the room before he shifted his hands once more putting his fingers back where she needed it most, steadily thrusting in and out in a come hither motion.

He didnt stop his onslaught of him tonguing her down, like he was making love to her pussy. "Ugh... shit, Smoke- 'Lijah, fuck. Dont stop. Please ah-!"

He could her walls rhythmically spasming, she was getting close again. He sped up his efforts. The grip she had on his gair tightened, every part of her body pulled taught like a drawn bowstring ready to snap. Annie' legs started to quiver, until they tightened around his ears, her hips working in tandem with him, grinding back and forth. She was damn near impaling herself on his hand like it was his own dick in her chase for her release that had been denied from her so many times

She let out a low, desperate keen before her body locked up, keeping Smoke in place as he felt her inner walls spasming and tighten, and she damn near drenched his hand with a new wave of wetness as her orgasm finally hit her in waves.

He never stopped stroking and licking her through, riding each wave until she tugged on his hair. Silently letting him know it was almost too much, she was starting to get overstimulated.

He finally eased off, his fingers pulled out of her with a wet pop. Her legs went limp at his sides as she was still catching her breath.

Annie watched him with blown pupils, her mouth slightly agape. Elijah couldnt recall a time she was ever as subdued as she was being now. She moved placing her hands on both sides of his face, one of her thumbs caressed his lips, her eyes half-lidded, looking at them intently before she moved it to his cheek, gently moving her thumb back and forth. She had a look on her face he'd never seen before.

Open... The quietness she carried wasnt one thick with tension, but one that carried a delicate vulnerability she rarely showed. She almost looked like she didnt know what to do with herself in the aftermath of something like this. In the quiet.

Any previous fire from before was snuffed out. He shifted, laying his body next to her on the bed looking at eachother. Elijah's chest felt weird with the way she was looking at him. Warm from the inside out.

He didnt realize that the thought to get himself off didnt cross his mind. Just her pleasure. He wanted her to feel good, in the moment, it was all that mattered.

He saw her eyes droop slightly she was tired. It was more than just the fact that he wrung the pleasure out of her, but relaxed sleepiness that came with a release, sexually, emotionally.

He knew everything was laid out in the open, it was still an unfinished conversation. But looking at her heavy eyes, they could get to that later.

"C'mere go head an' rest some." He pulled her to his warm chest.

"I cant it's only the middle of the day, I got things I have to do..." she trailed off, her voice getting heavy with sleep.

"The kingdom wont fall if you take an afternoon Anne'" he mummured quietly. He felt her body melt into his, her breathing deepened, tickling the skin of his neck

She was already gone.

He tightened his hold on her before settling, her drowsiness contagious and the warmth of her being in his arms was all he needed to follow her. Closing his eyes, the afternoon breeze caressing the room, calming the heat that was once there.

Elijah couldnt recall a moment in his life where he felt this content in someone's presence.

But she wasnt just anyone, she was Annie.

His Annie...

_____________

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.

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A/n: I dont even know... Just a whole lot going on, sorry for the wait🥴

Fuck- I hate being shy, lowkey wanted to blow up writing this and not even post anything.😭

Just fade into obscurity, all dramatic an' shit.

*Im so sorry Annie, I dont know why I had that man torture you like that😭*

Theres still alot of things left unsaid, conversations that need to be had so... Its only gonna get more convoluted from here, just lemme cook, I know where Im tryna land this plane🙃😤✈️

*thats all im gonna say about that

“She was one of those languid women made of dark honey. Smooth and sweet, and terribly sticky, who take control of a room with a syrupy gesture. A toss of the hair, a single, slow whiplash of the eyes—and all the while remain as still as the center of a hurricane, apparently unaware of the force of gravity by which they irresistibly attract to themselves the yearnings and the souls of men.” Perfume - Patrick Süskind

Annie stared out the kitchen window of Nellie’s home, the pad of her thumb caught on the tip of an empty pea pod. She could see Nellie’s mama in the yard hanging linens from the clothesline. Beyond that, the hum of Fourth Street crept through the backyards and alleyways of the neighborhood. Smoke rose from the railroad depot a street over, coughing thick black puffs into the air that looked like a blemish against the bright blue afternoon sky. And somewhere in the distance, the sweet, rotten smell of the Sunflower River floated its way through the cracks of the modest shotgun off Ashton Street.

“Louisiana?” Gigi asked. She shelled a pea with quick hands, dropping the pod in the waste bowl. “You over there daydreamin’.”

“With a big ass grin on your face, too,” Verity chimed in.

Annie blinked twice. “Yeah. Just thinkin’.” 

Nellie grinned. “Mhmm. She thinkin’ about her man.”

Annie rolled her eyes but her mouth twitched. Her man. Her mouth felt dry, words trapped in her throat, but she didn’t dare swallow. Not with Nellie sneaking glances at her, Pearline watching her closely out of the corner of her eye, and Gigi eyeing her curiously. Eventually the conversation folded back into itself. The phonograph skipped to a new song, shells hit the bowl in the middle of the table with a hollow tap, Verity started talking about living in Bronzeville. But desire bloomed under Annie’s skin like a bruise the more she thought of Smoke, spreading through her veins like a whisper of lightning before a storm. 

“So are you gonna…you know…” Pearline started. “Give him your virgin?” she whispered.

Annie turned her head to Pearline.

“Uhh, I-I think so.”

“You think so? Or you know so?” Gigi asked.

“Don’t do it if you ain’t sure,” Pearline added.

“I am sure.”

The answer settled into the room.

“You scared?” The question came from Verity.

A beat.

“Yeah.”

“Of what?”

Before she could answer, another question followed, this time from Gigi again. “You scared of what it’s gon’ feel like, or how you gon’ feel after the deed is done?” 

Annie hummed in thought. 

“Both,” she said finally. “But mostly what it’s gon’ feel like.” 

She fiddled with her fingers. “Do it hurt?” 

She looked up then, avoiding the direct gaze of the faces staring back at her.

Verity spoke up.

“At first, yes,” she said honestly. “Then it feels good. As long as he know what he doin’,” she mumbled under her breath.

“Mhmm.”

“Oh,” Annie trailed off. She rubbed her arms, looking down at her work. Their pile of peas was dwindling down as the day dragged on.

Pearline placed a hand on Annie’s forearm, the touch reassuring. “I feel like you in good hands.”

“‘Specially since he snatched you up so quick,” Nellie added. “He ain’t waste no time.”

“None.”

Annie chuckled. She rubbed her arms again. “Yeah, I guess so.”

She shifted her weight on the chair, her chest tightening. Her heartbeat thumped loudly in her chest, and she tried to ease it by taking deep, controlled breaths. As the conversation in Nellie’s kitchen turned into something lighter, Annie’s thoughts drifted back to what she finally admitted out loud.

The next day…

A bloody sludge of gills and guts covered Annie’s apron. Her fingers, the edge of the kitchen counter—coated in it. She cleaned and gutted catfish, then skinned, trimmed, and sliced them with a thin, sharp knife, separating the scaly skin from the fillet after removing the entrails. The heads sat in a corner of the countertop, where Felix sat on the kitchen floor just below. Tail swinging, eyes wide, he looked like he was ready to pounce.

Annie watched him out of the corner of her eye. 

“Aht aht!” she scolded, pointing the tip of her knife at him. “Don’t even think about it.” 

Some of the gunk from the knife flew onto his paw, which he looked down at like he was personally offended by its presence. He looked up at Annie and meowed, a short trill of frustration. 

She talked back like he could understand what she was saying, looking up from scooping the kidney out of a fish. “What?”

“Mrrp,” he meowed.

Annie rolled her eyes. “That ain’t my problem.”

“Mrrrrrrrrp.”

“Since when you scared of a lil’ blood?”

Felix yawned and rubbed his head with his clean paw, licked the blood off his other one, then meowed again.

“Le pauvre,” she teased.

He whipped around, slipping out the back through the slightly cracked door. Just then Aunt Della walked through the same door, a basket at her hip full of root vegetables. Her hair was pinned back and kept in place with a lavender headscarf, her temples displaying hues of vivid black and silver kinks, coils, and curls that spoke to time and memory. She set the basket and her gardening gloves down on the kitchen table next to the chipped ceramic bowl of onions.

“What you do?”

“To who?” Annie wiped the sweat beading on her brow with the back of her arm.

“Felix.”

“I ain’t did nothin’ to that boy,” she huffed. “He wanna stand in the rain and be mad he got wet.”

“Figures,” Aunt Della chuckled. “You almost done?”

“Almost done, auntie,” Annie answered. “Got two more left.” 

“Lemme start heatin’ this oil up then.”

Three knocks on the front door interrupted their routine, causing both ladies to turn their heads. Loretta Hightower stood at the door, visible through the front window in a tailored three-piece set and matching hat. The vibrant green suit dazzled under the sun that cloaked the porch in a veil of honey-gold. Annie, elbows deep in fish guts, turned back to the catfish while Aunt Della walked over to answer the front door.

“Delilah!” Loretta squealed. 

“Loretta!” 

They embraced. A long, familiar hold that spoke of history and friendship. The low murmur of their conversation carried into the kitchen as Annie stood facing the large back window. Felix was bathing himself with his tongue, staring at her like he had an attitude. She stuck her tongue out at him.

Soft footsteps and the click-clack of heels approached the kitchen. 

“Annie! Loretta got somethin’ for you.”

Annie gasped softly, turning and wiping her hands off on her apron. “What is it?” 

“You got a letter back.” 

Annie jolted and hurried to the wash basin. 

“Oh, let me just…” She submerged her hands down to her forearms in the soapy water, picking up a brush to scrub under her fingernails. “Just gimme a second. Thank you so much, Mrs. Hightower.”

Aunt Della and Loretta chuckled. 

“It’s not goin’ anywhere, baby,” Aunt Della assured her. 

“And it’s a thick one, too, Annie,” Loretta added.

Annie’s heart went from leaping, to soaring, to beating so fast it almost bolted out of her chest. She scrubbed death off her hands until they started to prune. They shook gently underneath the water, vibrating the basin and splashing droplets onto her apron. Aunt Della and Loretta could both hear the soft sniffles she tried to hide underneath the sounds of splashing water. Aunt Della approached her and Annie felt a hand on her back as she whispered something that made her calm her frantic movements.

Annie slowed her motions, dried her hands, and took the envelope, holding it like she held the world in her palms. She brought the paper to her nose, inhaling the familiar scent of her mother’s perfume and her father’s aftershave, breathing it into memory. She gently detached the adhesive of the envelope with wobbly fingers, her heart thumping in her chest as she removed a stack of thick, wide paper folded delicately from the envelope, taking care to notice the flower petals that were packed along with it. 

Blue lobelias. 

They were her favorite.

It was a visually striking perennial that grew in clusters in the field by her great-grandmother’s shack. She remembered hiding behind them when she played hide-and-seek with her brothers as a child. 

Annie wiped a tear that threatened to fall down her cheek carefully and unfolded the letter. The first thing her eyes ran across was her mother’s beautiful cursive that filled the page with soft, whimsical strokes.

Our dear Annie, was all she read at first. Then she reread it. And read it again. 

The words hit her right in the gut. Homesickness burned deep under her skin, hotter than the afternoon sun that hung large and heavy and beamed through the kitchen windows. Deciding to read the letter later on, she tucked it back into the envelope, careful not to spill any petals. The thick envelope went into her apron pocket. 

“Thank you, Mrs. Hightower. Thank you so much.” 

Loretta took a step towards her, then widened her arms, bringing her into a hug. She rubbed her back with a soothing, maternal warmth.

“Lemme know if you need anything else, okay?”

“Yes ma’am.”

Annie felt the long tail of Felix tickle the side of her calf as he contorted his body around her ankle and tilted his head up at her.

“Mrrow,” he purred.

“Guess you ain’t mad at me no mo’, huh?” Annie pursed her lips at Felix as he stared at her for a moment before disappearing into the front room. 

“Well, I better be goin’,” Loretta said. “Almost supper time at the restaurant.” 

“Thank you again,” Annie said.

Loretta nodded, gave Aunt Della a hug, then walked towards the front, the floorboards groaning under her heels. She hesitated at the door, looked back and gave another winsome smile, then slipped outside without another word. 

For a moment, the cool air that crept in made the room feel less stuffy, like the crack of the door let something slip out with it. 

Annie exhaled, her shoulders relaxing.

“You okay, sugar?” Aunt Della asked.

“Yeah,” Annie looked around, rolling up her sleeves. “Just need to do somethin’ with my hands.” 

She crossed the room to the woodstove and scooped a heaving amount of lard into the cast iron pot to heat up. She checked the pot of beans on the back burner, stirring it once before covering it back up. Aunt Della moved to the counter, rolling her own sleeves up and cleaning the catfish filets while Annie mixed the batter together.

The scent of frying oil filled the kitchen even as words didn’t. 

The two women worked together quietly preparing supper as the shuffle of boots became louder, attracted by the smell of spice and fried cornmeal. 

Annie stood at the stove frying fish in batches, watching the corners curl up and waiting to feel the underside was the perfect shade of golden before it was ready to flip.

Annie was in her head.

Because that’s where the letter lived. Not the words. Not yet. It was the smell of her parents soaked into the paper. The flower petals that brought her back to her childhood. 

She didn’t hear the door creak, the screen door slamming shut in that playful way. Didn’t notice the floorboards acquiesce under the weight of his soldier-like footfalls. Didn’t feel the air in the room shift. Didn’t hear him greet Aunt Della in the background. And definitely didn’t hear him approach her.

Two large hands gripped Annie’s waist. The scent of tobacco and peppermint, potent and personal, floated over her shoulder eclipsing the smell of hot grease.

Annie smiled. “Hey.”

“Hey.” 

Smoke set his chin on her shoulder, his hands firm on her hips. “How you be?” 

“Good,” she hummed, the answer an affirmation that settled deep in his chest. 

Better now, she thought to herself. 

The homesickness—gone. Thoughts of the place she called—used to call—home, all melted under his touch. It soothed her somehow. The way his grip was firm but gentle on her waist. Possessive when he pulled her in tighter and rested his chin on her shoulder. Restrained when a shaky breath hit the delicate skin of her neck.

Smoke noticed it all. 

The way her shoulders slackened when he touched her. 

The little jolt that ran through her body. Barely noticeable, but there. 

The way her breath hitched. 

The way she tried to hide it all. 

That was his favorite part; the way she tried to mask her reactions. 

Then she did something unexpected.

Before he knew it she reached behind her, her fingers finding the shell of his ear. She grazed it just once with her fingertips, the touch barely there. But still. He couldn't help but shiver. It was a full-body one. His grip tightened on her waist, fingers twisting the fabric of her skirt for a second before relaxing again. He watched the corner of her mouth turn up as she turned a fish filet in the cast iron pan. Then he grinned too. His lips twisted playfully, the dimple in his cheek caving in.

“Y’all lookin’ mighty cozy over there.”

Stack. 

He walked in, brows high on his forehead when he saw Smoke behind Annie like a vat of hot oil wasn’t bubbling right in front of them. Steam rose slowly from the pot, beading sweat on both Annie and Smoke’s foreheads. One bad decision and a body part could end up with a third-degree burn.

But neither of them seemed to care. 

They didn’t seem to notice he or Miss Della were even there.

Annie swayed a bit as she flipped and dipped fish. And Smoke moved with her, a hushed conversation taking place between them as he rested his head on her shoulder. 

Stack looked at Aunt Della like “you seein’ this?” She shrugged. He walked over and gave her a hug as she prepared sides with serving utensils, all the while eyeing the perfectly golden-brown catfish strips piling up on a platter next to the stove. 

His mouth watered at the smell of the crispy fried crust and the spice of the batter—and he just knew once he bit into it, it’d steam and flake just the way he liked it.

So he took a chance.

He reached for a piece at the edge of the platter and two heads snapped towards him.

“You tryna get popped?” Annie asked.

Stack pulled his hand back. “I’m tryna get some fish, actually.”

“You’ll get some when it’s ready.”

“It looks ready.”

“I mean during supper. At the table.”

“I just wanna taste.”

Annie smirked, her chin tilting up playfully. “Later.”

Stack reached again.

“Boy!” She pointed her tongs at him.

Smoke watched the whole thing, amused. He didn’t move from his position.

“Girl!”

“You tryna get burned? Stack, you too close to the stove.”

Stack blinked. “Y’all basically knee deep in oil.” He smoothed out his shirt. “Besides. A lil’ burn won’t hurt me, woman.”

“You gon’ get popped with more than just oil if you don’t move,” Annie said with a grin. 

“Make it worth my while then,” he teased back. “Lemme get a lil’ piece.” He was relentless. He eyed a strip with a crispy end that he could break off easily. He reached out for the third time. 

Annie sighed. She had turned back to watching the pot now, but still caught Stack out of the corner of her eye. “Don’t move that hand.”

Stack smirked.

Annie rolled her eyes, breaking off the end of the piece Stack was eyeing. Steam curled into the air as the fish broke apart in flaky, white pieces. “Here, greedy!” She placed it in his palm before turning back to the stove.

“I’ll be that,” Stack teased. He hummed as soon as the savory spice of the fish hit his tastebuds. “Thank ya kindly.” He swaggered into the front room satisfied.

Smoke finally moved. 

“I’ll let you get back to it,” he said. He rubbed her shoulders and kissed her cheek before following his brother out the same way.

Annie chuckled to herself, shaking her head as she finished the last pieces she had left to fry. 

“I reckon everything goin' well between you two.” Aunt Della said.

Whole time, Annie had completely forgotten her great-aunt was even in the room. Her cheeks warmed at the thought of a moment—any moment with Smoke, really—being watched.

“Uh yeah,” she replied. That familiar tingling she only got when she thought about him spreading across her skin like wildfire. “We are.”

Annie felt Aunt Della’s smile from across the room, even with her back turned. She left the kitchen to ring the supper bell, the fabric of her skirt fluttering around her. 

Men made their way into the dining area one-by-one, fresh from cleaning their hands. They carried with them the smell of musk, turpentine, and a hard day’s work. It was heavy. Masculine. 

The twins walked in last.

Stack came in first, all dimples and bright eyes.

Smoke walked in behind him still sporting that same dimple that showed up earlier when his eyes found hers.

He didn’t hurry to sit at the table. Didn’t hurry to grab a plate. He stood at the edge of the room, waiting as Annie and Miss Della brought in the food. A large platter of fried fish, a steaming pot of beans and rice, skillets of cornbread, and a large pot of greens went to the middle of the table. 

The dining area filled with rising steam, watering mouths, and low conversation as the lodgers began to devour their supper.

Annie dropped her arms and stepped to him, the faint smell of pipe mix and soap clinging to his clothes.

“You not gon’ eat?” she asked.

“Was waitin’ for you.”

“You ain’t gotta do that.”

He grabbed her hands. “I do.”

Annie tipped her head towards the kitchen. “Lemme go wash up first.” 

“I’ll fix you a plate. Before these niggas eat it all.”

Annie giggled softly.

“Whatchu want?” 

“Just some fish…,” she said, walking backwards to the kitchen, “and some beans and rice.”

Smoke nodded once. “I got it.”

Supper was spent at the high-top four-seater table in the corner of the dining area. Smoke and Annie sat next to each other, Stack and Aunt Della directly across from them. They talked. They laughed. They ate. They drank. 

Every so often, Annie’s shoulder would brush against Smoke’s. She’d reach across the table for something—her glass, the saltshaker. When she pulled back their arms would press against each other and they’d stay there. Close. It felt like both of them were waiting for the moment something would force them to pull away from each other. It didn’t. 

Occasionally, Smoke would brush lint from Annie’s clothes or thumb a crumb from her cheek. His fingers would linger for a second too long, like they were waiting on her to pull back. She didn’t.

By the time supper was long over, the heat still lingered. 

It wasn’t from the food.

Even outside where a cool breeze swept through the night in broken intervals, pulling a delicate, melodic sound from the windchimes that reached back into the yard where Smoke and Annie stood. A fading oil lamp hung up high, casting gold across the backyard and leaving the rest of it in shadows. 

Annie didn’t know why she pulled Smoke to the side of the lean-to shed. Or maybe she did and she just didn’t want to admit it to herself.

She stood by it, back pressed against the wooden siding, hips tilted out slightly as her fingers twisted in the fabric of her skirt. 

Smoke stood in front of her, jaw tight, hands at his sides. They flexed periodically, twitched like he was fighting something. 

Nature’s soundtrack felt even louder tonight. The chirp of crickets shuddered in the grass. The deep bellow of a bullfrog echoed in the distance. And somewhere down the block, a harmonica played a gritty blues bend that floated down the street like smoke curling from a cigarette.

But the moment Annie shifted, the sounds began to slowly fade away. 

She moved in one smooth motion. Her hands rose to the collar of Smoke’s shirt, fingers twisting around the edge. Then she tugged, just once. The movement pulled him in until his hands bracketed her on the shed. 

She didn’t hesitate. 

The kiss started softly.

The slow smack of lips drowned out the crickets first, then the bullfrog. Then the metal-on-metal tapping of the water pump, its handle moving stubbornly with the wind. Smoke pulled Annie towards him as their mouths moved against each other. His hands found the small of her back, making it bow into him until she wrapped her arms around his neck and gave in to his pull. He sighed as the feeling of soft, plush curves met a hard stomach, strong arms, and broad shoulders carved by war and Mississippi cotton fields. 

They kissed slowly. Like they were savoring the taste of each other. Their lips met and released, connecting in a slow dance that was all their own. Then the kiss deepened, their tongues coming out to play as they twirled around each other.

Annie’s hands moved from his neck to his shoulders to steady herself as their heads swiveled and they explored every corner of their mouths. She gasped, then groaned, when he pulled her bottom lip into his mouth. Biting, then soothing the sting with a lick.

Their tongues flicked against each other, slow and nasty. Like the harmonica still playing down the street. It had slowed down its tune, the legato wailing all sultry and soulful through the night. 

Even that sound disappeared after a while. It was quiet in the bubble they created when it was just them two, just shared breaths and gasps for air. 

Annie tasted like pot likker and the peppermint stick she sucked on after supper. Like home on a quiet winter evening in front of a fire. Smoke tasted like tobacco and grass from the cigarette he finished right before Annie pulled him into the backyard when she thought nobody was paying attention.

Her hands fell from his shoulders to his chest, rubbing her palms against the solidness that sat underneath the cotton. His hands traveled south from her back to the curve of her ass, his calloused hands smoothing over all the thickness that sat back there. 

His blood sparked hot. 

His hands itched to grip, wanted to grab—but he pulled back instead.

“Annie,” he rasped, his voice low and rough.

Their breaths were heavy, lustful. What began slowly was quickly turning into something more gluttonous than supper. He felt it in him. He saw it in Annie.

He pressed his forehead to hers. Her eyes widened as the noise from inside swelled abruptly. She turned her head towards it as her pulse sped down and her breath came out slower. When the noise dimmed down again, she turned back.

“Why’d you stop?”

The question cut through the silence. 

Smoke looked at Annie, her brows knit, her eyes searching his.

The oil lamp above them crackled one last time before completely snuffing out, leaving them with just the dim light that pooled outside from the kitchen window. A large wax candle sat on the sill, its fire burning dimly through the window. Annie looked at Smoke. Even in the near darkness outside, she could feel the hunger in his gaze. 

And she felt the same way. 

Famished.

Smoke lifted a hand. His fingers brushed the side of her face, grazing the smooth skin of her cheek. Annie’s eyes fluttered under his touch. Her hand grabbed his wrist and his hand stilled, but it wasn’t to stop him. It was to hold him there. 

“It’s okay,” she whispered, gulping when she saw the darkening of his eyes.

“I ain’t never…” was all she got off before the words disappeared in her throat. 

She didn’t finish her sentence. She didn’t need to.

Everything in Smoke went still except the muscle of his jaw that twitched once then stopped.

He looked away.

He wasn’t surprised. That was the thing.

Her words were confirmation of something he’d already assumed about her. 

But there was something about the way she said it that he filed away for later.

She’d never been touched. 

Not like this. 

And while he stood breathing desire down her throat with his hand on her ass, he felt something twist in his chest.

Guilt.

It moved in quickly, crowding his thoughts. Guilt for moving too fast. Guilt for letting his want for her carry him far enough that he had to stop himself before she did. 

“I know,” Smoke said finally. 

Annie looked away.

“Look at me.”

She couldn’t look at him at that moment. 

Not because she was embarrassed, ashamed, or insecure. Not really. She just felt inexperienced. Young in a way she hated feeling in anybody’s eyes. 

Her eyes traveling up his chest to his collar where she picked at a loose thread. “I want you,” she whispered, “to be my first.” 

The words were so quiet that the night almost took hold of them. 

Smoke’s eyes closed for half a second. He pulled her close, pressing his forehead to hers. 

“You ‘sho?”

For a split second, his words sounded like a plea to Annie rather than a question.

“Yes,” she said, grabbing onto the folds of his shirt. 

The backyard held its breath. Here in their little bubble, the only thing that existed was Smoke, Annie, and this moment between them. Smoke took Annie’s hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles, keeping his eyes trained on hers.

“You mine?”

Annie grinned, nodding once. 

“Nah,” Smoke gripped her chin again, tracing her bottom lip with his thumb. “I wanna hear you say it.”

She lowered her head, then looked up, her big brown eyes certain and glittering in the sliver of moonlight that peeked out from behind the clouds. Her lips parted. “I’m yours. Tout.”

“Creole?”

“Mhmm,” she grinned proudly.

Smoke hummed— a deep vibrating sound that shot up Annie’s spine. Her words were a soothing balm, loosening the hooks of guilt lodged in his back.

“Good,” he said. He rubbed her back with wide strokes, holding her close as the nighttime settled around them, comfortable and warm despite the November cold. 

“Ou m’ap pèm?”

“What’s that?”

“You mine too?”

“Teach me how to say it back.”

“Mwen se ou.”

“Mwen se ou,” he repeated back.

“You gettin’ better,” she gasped, her whole face lighting up. 

Smoke smirked smugly. “Gotta good teacher.”

“Mwen se tout ou.”

“That too,” he grunted.

Annie snorted, turning her head briefly. “Don’t be makin’ fun of me.”

“I ain’t,” he shrugged. “That’s what you sound like.”

He gave her a real smile then, dimples deep in both his cheeks. He couldn’t hide it.

“I was so nervous,” she admitted, her grin wrapping around her words despite herself.

Smoke raised a brow. “Nervous ‘bout what?” 

“To tell you.”

“That you a virgin?”

Annie nodded, hand finding that loose thread again. Smoke grabbed her hand and kissed it.

“You ain’t gotta be nervous to tell me stuff, you hear?” 

Annie sighed, pressing her palms to his chest. “I know.”

Smoke stared down at Annie. Her soft, panting breaths, her heart beating against his own chest. He raised his right hand to hers, covering her right palm that lay directly over his heart. His thumb brushed over her knuckles. The gesture—the warmth in it—made her look at him. Their eyes locked and held, the look between them speaking louder than any words could at that moment. 

“I’m scared,” she said quietly. 

“Scared of what?” 

Their mouths moved but their bodies were still. Smoke’s hand sat over Annie’s on his chest like it was frozen there, his heart beat steadily under her palm. 

“What it’s gon’ be like,” she mumbled, barely a breath, “the first time.”

“What you think?”

Annie shook her head, unsure. “I don’t know.”

Smoke ran his tongue along the back of his teeth.

“How you want it to be?”

Annie’s lips twisted in thought as Smoke’s eyes pinned her in place. Their hands stayed where they were, his thumb tracing circles on the back of her hand. 

“Don’t be scared.”

Annie said nothing. Her lips parted like she wanted to speak but decided against it.

Smoke’s voice dropped low and deep, rough with something—but not sultry. He wasn’t trying to make her shiver or choke on a gasp. Not right now. Right now he wanted—needed—to assure her. He needed her to feel the promise in his words. Needed her to know he meant it.

He looked Annie in the eye, the weight of his hand pressing harder against hers where it rested on top of his heart. “I’m gon’ take good care of you, Annie.”

The words were simple, but she felt them in her core. Her skin lit up with that familiar tingle, her heartbeat thumping hard against her ribs. 

Annie looked down at her hand, shifting it slightly under his.

She could hear the promise beneath the words.

And something in her—something that felt older than her—told her to believe it. So, she did.

“I ain’t even thought about it like that. Not for real.”

Lie.

Smoke raised a brow. “Never?”

Annie shook her head once. Then she nodded, pursing her lips so the corner of her mouth would stop twitching. 

“Well,” she breathed, the gust of air warming his collarbone. “A little.”

She rolled her lips inward and finally looked up at him. 

The heat that had reduced to a simmer sparked up again. Smoke’s eyes darkened at her words, her curiosity, her comfort. Her closeness felt like second nature to him, but her vulnerability hit something deeper in his chest.

“What you was thinkin’?”

Annie’s eyes trailed from his eyes down to his lips. They sat perfectly on his face— thick, plump, and so soft against her own.

“Tell me,” he insisted, voice low and coaxing. 

“I had a dream…” She looked away. Her eyes went to something different now since she felt his gaze piercing her soul. She focused on a bush of moonflowers by the fence, their wilting petals fluttering in the breeze like little ghosts. “About you.” 

“‘Bout me?” he drawled. Smugly, almost. “And what happened in this dream?” His hands traveled up and down her spine.

Annie fidgeted nervously.

“I don’t remember.”

Smoke tilted his head. “How you know it was about me then?” 

She hesitated. 

“‘Cause….”

“‘Cause what?”

“How I felt.”

“How you feel?”

The flashbacks came in waves. Along with a feeling she couldn’t find the word for until now. 

“Full.” 

The word came out so tiny, it sounded accidental. It was barely a word. More like a faint expulsion of air that drifted through the seams of his mouth. But it was raw, and it settled like a presence in his chest, latching onto the corners of his soul that housed devotion and something deeper. 

Restraint pressed against every instinct he’d ever possessed and the inside of his slacks. 

This woman had no idea what she was doing to him.

“We should go inside,” he muttered. “Befo’ your aunt come lookin’ for us.”

Annie giggled softly, his shoulders relaxing at the sound. 

“You scared of Aunt Della?”

“Yes.”

Annie laughed for real this time, the tension loosening just enough to let them breathe again. They walked towards the back door and Smoke held the door open for her to fully step inside. 

The moon hung high above the rooftops, cutting through the inky black sky like a blade of silver light. It poured through the windows of Annie’s bedroom, making the lobelia petals that were scattered across her covers glow around the edges like they were suspended in a dream. 

Annie unfolded her letter, her eyes scanning through the words briefly, but she was only looking for one thing. Something she’d been holding in since Loretta first placed it in her hands.

The end.

The signatures.

She read it with shaky hands.

All our love,

Papa & Maman

Nana

Junior

Vernon

Leroy

Raymond

Maurice

They were all there.

Except one.

Uriah. 

He was her closest brother.

Annie didn’t know why she expected his name to be scrawled among the signatures, his chicken scratch inked deep into the paper. He’d been dead over a year at that point. But the absence felt worse than accepting he was dead.

She still felt him, like him slipping through the cracks of the earth didn’t necessarily mean he would be missing from a letter sent from home. 

She knew it wasn’t really his missing signature that made tears pool in her eyes, it was his soul. 

Since the government refused to send his body back from France after the war, his spirit had been unsettled. Restless. 

She felt it the most when she took her ilekes off. She always covered them, sandwiching them between two thin, white cloths that belonged to her great-grandmother, then set them in a drawer taking care that they didn’t touch the surface of the wood. 

She’d say a prayer for him at the tiny altar in the corner of her room that sat on top of a warped, lopsided, low table. It smelled of old wood, herbs, and dust.

Salt for protection and peace of mind.

A pinch of soil.

A Mississippi river rock.

His name written on a piece of paper. Pinched and folded in half towards her. 

A half-burned taper candle.

Blue cloth. A snippet from his baby quilt, stitched from her mother’s, grandmother’s and great-grandmother’s hands.

Molasses chews. Because those were his favorite growing up.

She lit the candle, the flame catching blue at first before bleeding orange. When it steadied, she bowed her head.

“Uriah Silas Antonio Royal,” she said. Her voice sounded tiny and helpless in the confines of her room. 

“Blood callin’ you even though your bones ain’t make it back.” 

She paused, taking a shaky breath. 

Then she laid her offering.

“Water for the journey. Salt for your peace. Light so you can see. A piece of home so you remember. Think of us, and remember where you belong.” 

The candle flickered violently. 

“Ancestors, please,” she said, looking out the window to the moon. “Don’t let him cross alone, he scared.” 

Annie swallowed hard to clear the lump that swelled in her throat, a tear drop falling directly onto the flame. It flickered and smoked, but the amber light held the line in the darkness of her room.

She bent over, crying quietly into the fabric of her nightgown, her tears dampening the delicate white cotton. She closed her eyes and the present slipped into the past, seamless and real. She could see it all— the draw, the aim, the shot. The scream she could feel in her bones, muffled by wet soil, quicklime, and tarp. 

Annie opened her eyes and the scent of graveyard dirt and saltwater hung in the air. The silence that came after wasn’t peaceful. It was eerie. 

After a while, she spoke again.

“Ain’t no guns tonight,” she said. She cleared her throat to silence the tears and took a few deep breaths. “Ain’t no shoutin’. Ain’t no mud in your mouth. Just light. Just a way home.” 

The flame flickered again, its shape bending against the darkness like someone was pushing on it. 

Annie wiped the grief that lay wet tracks on her cheeks. 

“It’s okay,” she rasped, catching her breath. “Come on home.”

The flame finally settled into itself. 

Only then did she blow it out. 

The next morning felt like a slow exhale. Annie moved around the boarding house with a lightness that felt like the rainbow after a thunderstorm. Morning duties went by smoothly, followed by breakfast, chores, lessons, and a quick lunch. By the afternoon she was tying bundles of roots in the kitchen while Aunt Della sat in the front room writing a letter at her desk. The house groaned around them as cool air settled into its bones. The phonograph was playing low in the background when they heard a knock on the front door followed by two impatient honks of a car horn.

“I’ll get it,” Annie called from the kitchen. 

She wiped her hands and walked towards the front.

“Hey Pea,” Annie said when she opened the door.

Pearline frowned as she laid eyes on Annie. 

“Annie girl, why you ain’t dressed?”

Annie looked at Pearline. Then she looked at the car idling on the street. Then back to her, confused. 

“Dressed for what?”

“Your fittin’ today!”

“Oh my Lord!”

Aunt Della shook her head as Pearline stepped in, watching Annie trip halfway up the stairs.

“How you doin’, Mrs. Clark?”

“Doin’ fine,” Aunt Della responded. “How you?”

“Doin’ mighty fine myself.”

“Glad to hear it.”

Aunt Della put her pen down and looked at Pearline as she stepped further into the front room. She pulled a small drawstring pouch from the pocket of her dress and placed it on her writing desk. 

Pearline took it and quickly stuffed it in her purse. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

“You welcome.”

Aunt Della's eyes flicked down to Pearline’s stomach before she turned back to her pen and paper. 

Twenty minutes later, Pearline and Annie were on their way to Issaquena Street. The ride was quiet, with Pearline staring out the passenger window while her husband drove. Annie sat in the backseat, lips rolled and hands in her lap. 

“I’m so sorry, Mr. George,” Annie said to Pearline’s husband. “It completely slipped my mind.”

Mr. George grunted as the car came to a slow stop in front of the shop. “That’s alright.”

The girls climbed out of the Model T Ford. 

“Pearline?” He called after his wife.

She looked back as she stepped on the curb. “Yes?”

“Six o’clock.”

“Alright.”

The sign for the shop hung overhead as Pearline and Annie inched their way toward the door. As they walked down the steps and down the short, covered walkway to the modiste, Annie’s thoughts drifted to the excitement waiting for them next week.

The Harvest Party.

LUELLA’S DRESSING ROOM & ALTERATIONS

“Smoke gon’ forget his own name when he see you,” Pearline teased Annie. 

Luella smirked, adjusting a corset frame where it was pinned to one of the Dressmakers’ mannequins. 

Annie blushed where she stood barefoot on the platform in front of the three-way mirror, knee-length robe wrapped around her thick frame, long hair braided into a coily crown. 

Sunlight came through the curtains in golden slits, turning the dust motes suspended by the window into glitter. The click of heels and the low hum of sewing machines faded away behind the damask velvet drapes that separated the private alcove from the showroom. It felt cozy back here— like warmth, perfume, and whispers. Gloves, hair combs, purses, and other finishing touches were lined up on a table on the side where the crystal jars filled with candies added to the plush decor. 

Pearline sat on a velvet ottoman, one leg crossed politely over the other. Her gloved hands came together in her lap, her fingers mindlessly playing with the lace trim at her wrist.

“I can’t wait to see it,” she said. She smiled at Annie through the mirror—but it was bittersweet. Pensive. 

Annie’s brows knit together. “What’s wrong?” she mouthed. 

Pearline just shook her head and looked down. Annie tilted her head at her friend.

Just then, Luella’s assistant walked around the corner with a garment bag. She handled it carefully, hanging it on the clothing rack before rolling it from behind the seating area to rest at the side of the viewing platform. “You ready?” 

Annie turned, her face lighting up, but she still watched Pearline carefully out of the corner of her eye. She had a melancholic aura to her even though she tried to cover it with excitement for her friend. Her spine was snapped straight, her legs politely crossed— but something hung in the air between them.

Annie nodded, signaling she was ready. Luella stepped to the clothing rack and unzipped the garment bag as her and assistant removed it from its cover. She gasped when the rich, deep green velvet bodice caught the dim light of the alcove, then hopped off the platform, padding over to the rack.

“Wow,” Pearline stood up in awe. “It’s beautiful, Annie,” she whispered. She ran her gloved fingers down the sides of it, skimming over the delicate beadwork and fringe. 

It was a one-of-a-kind piece, made to stand out and be seen through the low lights and smoke in the juke. 

Luella and her assistant went over accessory ideas with Annie— purses, coats, shoes. Even some hair ideas. They talked to her about pressing her hair and wearing it pinned back into a chignon with a side part. Her excitement grew by the minute until she looked to the side and saw Pearline. The teasing from earlier was gone. Now she was quiet.

Polite.

But barely there.

They finally got to the jewelry options. Lightweight earrings, delicate necklaces, beaded bracelets. Luella held up a thin silver chain for Annie to look at, but Annie almost winced at the idea of wearing anything but her ilekes. She ran her finger over them.

“You can’t wear that necklace with,” she pointed to it, then to the dress on the rack, “that dress!” Luella’s assistant exclaimed.

Luella quietly agreed. “She’s right, sugar.” 

“But, I always wear my beads,” Annie rubbed one, taking a small step back from the accessory table. 

“Every single day?” Pearline asked.

“No,” she shook her head. “Not every day.”

Pearline shrugged. “So you can go one night without ‘em,” she trailed off as a hand reached over to touch them. 

She stopped herself when she saw Annie’s eyes grow wide.

“I can’t touch ‘em?”

Annie shook her head no.

Pearline crossed her arms, putting her weight on one hip. “Why not?” 

“Cuz they blessed.” 

Pearline scrunched her nose up. “What you mean, blessed?”

Annie looked towards the window, then back. “I don’t really know. But my great-grandma told me I can’t let anyone touch ‘em, or she gotta bless ‘em again. And she dead, so...”

“Annie,” Pearline pleaded quietly. Her face relaxed like she recognized this wasn’t a conversation to have here. Not while they were surrounded by pearls and sequins, lace, leather and perfume. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

Luella and her assistant sorted necklaces while they continued their conversation in hushed tones. 

“She gave ‘em to me when I was seven.” 

Pearline’s eyes softened.

“Told me never to take ‘em off.”

“Have you?”

“No,” Annie sighed. “Only on certain days.” 

She exhaled again, her lips curving up into a sly grin. “But I guess I can go without ‘em…for just the night.”

Pearline smiled. 

Luella’s assistant came over and squealed with glee while Luella picked up a long silver necklace with a small diamond pendant that hung like a teardrop in the center.

Luella’s assistant pointed at it. “Annie, what you think ‘bout this one?”

Annie’s eyes lit up, intrigued. “I like it.” Her hands fingered the delicate chain. “A lot.”

She turned to reach over and rub Pearline’s shoulder as Luella and her assistant continued to talk her ear off about her jewelry options. 

“Wanna get a soda after this?” she asked.

“I’d love to.” Pearline couldn’t agree fast enough.

The walk back over to Fourth Street was brisk. Annie and Pearline walked the streets, arms folded across their chests, wool overcoats wrapped tightly around them. 

The sidewalks were even busier today. Despite the unusual cold front that blew into the Delta, most sharecroppers were stuck in limbo waiting on their settlements to come back from the plantation owners. Which means they’d make their way to town looking for some way to entertain themselves.

Besides the cafes and jukes, Fourth Street Drugs was a popular spot. It held a soda fountain on the right side of the store with ice cream, soda, and other fizzy drinks.

Step through the narrow wooden door that separated it from the drugstore and it felt like you were stepping into a different world. 

The space was a haven for young folks—swirling on lacquered stools, sipping sodas, floats, and malts. A polished oval countertop ran along the mirrored wall, a bar-like soda fountain directly in front of it. Ice cream, fruit, and syrups stood in a line up for the soda jerk to easily mix flavors. Light snacks sat in glass displays at each end of the countertop. 

The bell above the shop dinged twice as Annie and Pearline stepped through. 

They made themselves comfortable at the bartop, unwrapping scarves and taking off their hats. Annie ordered an ice cream soda from the soda jerk and Pearline decided on a cherry phosphate over ice. 

They enjoyed the live music— an elderly man in dark blue and black checkered shirt and overalls playing his harmonica and singing. He was tall, dark-skinned, and lanky, but his eyes were warm. His harmonica sat between his hands like a silver smile.

🎵 Don't get mad at me, boys, if your buggy don't ride like mine

I said, don’t get mad at me if your buggy don’t ride like mine

'Cause it's an easy-ridin' buggy, rarin' to go all the time* 🎵

Annie didn't recognize the song, nor the man. But she recognized the sound of that harmonica. The way he bent his notes felt familiar to her, like it was the soundtrack to something special.

The memory hit like a freight train.

Her and Smoke in the backyard after supper.

She barely heard, let alone remembered, anything from that night. Not besides the sound of Smoke’s voice. But she remembered that harmonica playing while they kissed slow under the moonlight.

She instantly got chills.

“That’s my time for today, my name is Delta Slim and I thank ya for listenin’.”

The whole room exploded with applause as Delta Slim slipped from the stage to the backroom. 

Annie watched him disappear down the hallway, then turned to Pearline.

She could tell she was only halfway present.

She tried to be cheerful while sipping her drink, but every time the shop bell rang her eyes would drift towards the entrance. Annie watched her out of the corner of her eye, wiping the corner of her mouth when a drop of ice cream landed on her chin. 

“I can’t go to the party,” Pearline admitted. 

“Why not?”

Pearline sighed. “My husband.” 

Annie’s lips pressed into a straight line. 

Pearline’s husband was an older man. Good bank job. Well-maintained house in a decent part of town. He was respected in the Black community of Coahoma County. 

He was protective over Pearline when it mattered. 

She found it sweet at first. Endearing. 

But that protection started to feel like a suffocating control.

And Pearline was starting to feel like a fish out of water. 

Annie shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. 

Pearline looked down, swirled her drink, and took another sip. 

“He's a good man, Annie,” she said, staring into her cup like that would make it true.

Annie felt skeptical but she was unwilling to push her friend into feeling uncomfortable.

“You happy?”

Pearline took a full minute to answer. 

“Yeah.” 

“Well,” Annie grabbed Pearline’s forearm, stroking her skin. “That’s what matters then...that you happy.”

Pearline gave her a weak smile.

A Few Nights Later — Moon Lake, Mississippi

Smoke and Stack stepped foot into the building, overhead lights so bright they had to blink so their eyes could adjust. It was something Smoke never got used to—the lights. He’d seen the Mississippi sun become a furnace in the sky— but this new, artificial shit? It was stronger. Blinding.

He didn’t like any of it. 

Stack was prepared. He always was when it came to his twin.

He handed Smoke a pair of American Optical aviators that they were fitted for during the war. They had smoked out dark lenses, a thin metal frame, and a double bridge that sat comfortably across his nose.

The twins walked through the casino like men on a mission. Smoke kept his hands in his pockets, but he still met eyes. A bootlegger on a craps table. Another man in a fancy pressed suit, elbows deep in a blackjack game to the right. 

They made their way to the side of the room, shoulders squared, eyes sharp, steps measured, cutting through a maze of fumes, lights, and laughter, until they were standing in front of the walkway that led to the private gaming salons. 

A narrow, low-lit corridor loomed in front of them. Dark green doors stretched down the hallway lined up like little soldiers. The walls were covered with patterned maroon wallpaper that looked like old blood dripping slowly from the panels. Smoke hovered overhead, suspended at the ceiling like a thick, tobacco-filled cloud. Floorboards groaned underneath heels and two-tone spectator shoes while furniture legs groaned under men all looking to play the long game with duffel bags full of cash.

Door 14. The Roulette Room.

Laughter slipped out the open door. 

The room was cozy but not small, decorated to feel expensive with its soft lamplight, burgundy wallpaper, velvet drapes and deep mahogany woodwork. 

A large roulette table flanked by carved wooden chairs with upholstered seats sat in the middle, the dealer leaning over the table with practiced focus. Framed paintings hung high above tall wooden panels, fireplaces, and wall sconces that divided the space. 

The room wasn’t full but wasn’t empty either. 

And most people present weren’t there to play. 

Not really.

Members of Clarksdale’s fraternal lodge were scattered around the room—Pythians with their ceremonial hats and others in regular suits. Smoking, fraternizing, throwing drinks back. Women in sequined dresses, strappy shoes, and pressed waves socialized among them.

Clay stood in the middle, leaning against a fireplace with two fingers of something dark in his hand. Maybe whiskey. Maybe brandy. A crystal glass decanter sat by his elbow. He swished his drink around, taking small sips while he listened to a man speak, voice low under the soft clatter of chips and murmured bets.

It was a white man. Rotund build. Dressed in a white single-breasted suit jacket and trousers, white shirt, and striped bowtie. He had a thick unibrow and mustache, and a hearty laugh that echoed off the walls but a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He didn’t look flashy; he looked comfortable. Too comfortable. 

And that was just from a distance. 

Smoke’s lip curled up instantly. 

Stack elbowed him in the arm when he saw the raw expression on his brother’s face. 

“Chill out, nigga.” 

Smoke grunted.

When Clay saw the twins across the room, he didn’t flinch. He just waved them over, setting his glass down on the mantle.

They split up like they always did when they first entered a space, Smoke rounding left, Stack circling right. 

It was part of their routine. A twin language developed from survival and war. 

They didn’t discuss it. They didn’t need to. 

They orbited the room. The movement looked casual, but they were quietly filing away every detail. Every glance meant suspicion, calculation, or warning. Nerves that had nothing to do with gambling. Shifty eyes. Hidden weapons. 

Smoke was the quicker draw of the two, and he always rolled deep. Two pistols. Bolo knife. Always tucked away but easily accessible.

Stack was slower to draw but had a way of disguising danger as charm before anybody realized it was danger. He kept a colt .45 and a brass knuckle knife hidden seamlessly in his clothing.

When they reached Clay, he already had two cigars cut for them. 

“Jim—” he said with a wide grin. “These the two gentlemen I was tellin’ you ‘bout earlier.” 

“Ah, the twins!” this Jim character said. 

He tapped ash from his own cigar on a lacquered tray and looked between Smoke and Stack who flanked him—one twin on each side.

“You fellas ever think about comin’ up North?” 

Stack answered. “We been up North.”

“Where to?”

“Harlem.”

“New York...What about Illinois? Arkansas?”

Smoke spoke up. “Arkansas ain’t up north.” 

“I know,” Jim replied.

“So why you askin’?” he asked flatly.

Jim shrugged. “Just curious.”

“Nah.” Smoke turned his head. “We don't go up North much.”

“But it depend on who askin’,” Stack added. 

Both twins looked at Jim.

Smoke with his head tilted downwards and his hooded eyes that could look up through a man and pierce his soul. 

Stack stood with his head tilted up so he was always looking down at someone, eyes twinkling, smirk wide, golds flashing.

Jim chuckled once, amused. At least on the surface. 

The ice in Stack’s cup tapped against the glass as it melted, sitting completely untouched in front of him. Smoke had already smoked his cigar down to the nub and sat with his elbows on his knees. 

Jim and his posse were long gone by now. 

Smoke, Stack, Clay and two of Clay’s men sat around a small round table that was polished to a shine that caught the lamplight in amber streaks. They talked routes, distribution, provisions, collections, hidden shipments, payoffs. 

Stack’s eyes sparkled every time someone mentioned Little Rock or Chicago. 

Smoke’s eyes held an unimpressed dullness even under the golden pools of lamplight.

Clay noticed, his eyes flicking between the two of them, subtly eyeing the difference in demeanor. 

“What you think?” Stack whispered to Smoke.

Smoke frowned then leaned over. “‘Bout what?”

“Big Jim.”

“I ain’t.”

Stack sucked his teeth loudly which earned a stare from Smoke.

Stack grumbled under his breath. 

“Shut up, nigga” Smoke gritted. 

“Just think about it,” Stack pushed. “Me. You. And Little Rock.”

Stack finally picked up his drink and took a swig. “You can bring Annie, too.”

Smoke just shook his head. Leaving Clarksdale was the last thing he was thinking about. 

The casino carried on in the background. Jazz, smoke, and the sweet-sharp smell of corn liquor spilled from the large double doors every time a patron stepped out. 

Smoke stood outside, the orange ember of his cigarette burning bright behind his palm. 

He didn’t come outside for quiet. The casino wasn’t quiet. Moon Lake never was. 

He stood at the dock and took a long drag of tobacco. It burned his chest. The cherry, spice, and the faint trace of lake humidity calmed the dull throb of a headache that sat behind his skull. 

“People done carved out every corner of Chicago. Whole lotta money there. But Arkansas….” 

Big Jim’s words echoed in his head. 

And Stack’s. 

He was always hyped about something. A scheme, a trick, a scam. 

And Smoke would always be caught up right along with him. 

But this one—

“Know a couple call houses in Little Rock need fixin’ up,” Big Jim said between puffs. 

A member of his posse, another white man with olive skin, a stocky build and a scar on his left cheek spoke up next.

“Bathhouse in Hot Springs. Y’all would do good up there, too.” He took a swig of his whiskey. “Real good.”

Smoke pushed the thoughts away before they could take root in his mind.

His thoughts turned to Annie instead.

To the confession she made.

The thought he filed away for later resurfaced while he looked out at the water. Night blanketed the cypress trees and the shores and the forest beyond it while the twinkling lights of the Moon Lake island helped soften its edges. 

Annie never shrank herself or made herself smaller for other people’s comfort. That’s one thing Smoke noticed the most about her. She was like him in that way. 

But something was different about the look on her face when she said those three words.

I ain’t never…

She looked vulnerable. Timid almost. 

His chest tightened at the thought. 

Something flickered in her eyes that night, just for a second before it disappeared. 

It wasn’t from the moonlight, from the candle on the windowsill, or from the oil lamp that hung above them on the shed.

It was deeper than that.

It was fear.

Fear of how he’d take it. Fear it would change his mind about her. 

He could see it in how she rushed to cling onto something. The loose thread on his shirt, something in the backyard. 

She showed him a part of herself. A part nobody else got to see. 

She gave that to him. 

And for just a second, she was scared of what he’d do with it.

Smoke’s jaw clenched.

He never wanted her to feel like that. He never wanted to be the reason she felt like that. Not again. 

Because that softness, the most tender part of her that she revealed to him in a whisper, barely a breath—that was his to protect now. 

Reeds danced with the current as it drifted downriver. The blades flitted across each other in the breeze, the low, whispery rustle felt gentle and soothing compared to the harsh sounds of the casino.

It felt like Annie.

Her scent arrived like a memory carried over water.

The lake carried the smell of some woman’s perfume. Smoke wouldn’t have noticed it, but the smell of lavender carried something sharper underneath that made his head snap around. 

Night-blooming jasmine. 

That sun-drenched, heady lushness that lingered on Annie’s wrists, behind her ears, and on her necklaces. 

That combined with the smell of something brackish made him feel like she was standing in front of him, those soft arms wrapped around his neck while his head tucked into her chest smelling like a midnight garden.

It cut through the harshness of the casino. The haze, the booze, the sweat. 

Moon Lake smelled like vice and pressure.

Annie was the opposite of all of that. 

While moonlight turned lake waters into glass, Smoke closed his eyes and made a decision.

Then another one.

He showed up at Della’s a few days later when the house had lulled into its afternoon pace.

“Got somewhere I wanna take you.” 

Those were the only words Smoke muttered before he whisked Annie out of the boarding house and into his truck. He wouldn’t tell Annie where they were going. All she knew was that they were heading north, the sun just starting its slow descent to the left of the road. 

The fields were empty this time of the year, of both people and cotton. The bare stalks stood tall and rigid like silent witnesses.

“I got a letter from my folks back home,” Annie said, looking out the window.

Smoke kept his eyes forward. “What they say?”

“Everybody doin’ good.”

“Good.”

Annie went on, talking Smoke up about her nieces and nephews, cousins, aunts and uncles. By the time she stopped to catch her breath, she was beaming with pride. Smoke listened to her talk with a lopsided grin of admiration. Then she started talking about her immediate family. Her mama. Her daddy. Her brothers. Her words got slower. Her breath hitched a few times like she was choosing her words carefully. 

Smoke noticed and started probing.

“Your mama a midwife, right? And your daddy—he work at the docks?”

“He a fisherman. You remembered.” She grinned and relaxed a little bit.

“How your brothers be?”

Annie tensed. “They good,” she said quickly.

“Hmm. And what they do?”

She rattled off five different occupations, but he knew she had six brothers. She told him. 

Annie was her parent’s seventh child.

He waited for her to fill in the blanks, but she didn’t. She just stared out the window like she was holding her breath.

“What was his name?” he asked.

Annie looked down at her hands. They were fidgeting again, playing with the hem of her clothing. She had on a tan-colored shirtwaist dress that complimented the rich brown color of her skin. It sat underneath a grey overcoat made from a light material. 

Mississippi weather was mild that day, a nice break from the cold front they experienced the past few weeks. 

Stockings and oxfords completed her look, and a cloche hat with a cream-colored ribbon was pinned onto her low bun.

The cab of the truck was silent for a while as the wheels rolled over loose gravel. But after a few more moments, Annie finally let out the breath she’d been holding.

“Uriah,” she said quietly. “His name was–is–Uriah.”

Smoke’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. “What happened to ‘em?”

“The war.”

“I’m sorry.”

Annie looked towards the road again. “Ain’t your fault.”

“Still.” He looked over at her briefly. “Y’all were close?”

“The closest.”

Smoke’s hand grabbed hers in her lap. She took a moment to rub the skin of his hands, his calloused palms warm around hers.

The road in front of them narrowed slightly. They crossed a bridge, the packed dirt turning into dusty brickwork as they traversed the water. 

The sun was beginning to wane, writing its farewell letter in shades of orange and purple as it disappeared behind the trees. 

On the other side of the bridge sat Moon Lake Island. 

A twenty-four-hour haven of whimsy, seduction, and leisure. Hanging lights glittered like fireflies, their bulbs blinking rapidly like they were dying out. That was on purpose.

It was just a bridge away from Lula, but it felt miles away—a sharp contrast to the cotton fields and the back of plantation houses that sat just across a small stretch of water. 

A supper club and casino stood like landmarks on the north island. The Blue Room was a pleasure palace that fronted as a place to enjoy oysters and prime cuts of steak at all hours of the night, and the Moon Lake Casino was its younger, slick-talking brother. 

The Black Elk Lodge was a hotel that stretched across the entire span of the southern island, wide and proud like the hand of a giant. Small lake front cabins scattered along the shore surrounding the courtyard hotel, a place where the whole world could go quiet.

Smoke cut the engine. He kept a hand on the small of her back, the other hand holding onto a covered basket as he guided Annie to the small private dock where he’d rented a rowboat from the lodge. He tugged the fraying rope that moored it to the shore, pulling it up so it sat halfway on the bank.

The inside was a tight fit, but dry. It was deep, lined with fragments of mismatched, aged wood where he set the basket of food in the middle of the two benches. Smoke helped Annie inside, unleashing the boat while he took the oars in his hand. 

His muscles moved beneath rolled sleeves while he rowed them away from the shore. He grunted under his breath as he stroked, moving his arms back and forth until their boat was dislodged from the thick mud on the shore. It glided smoothly into the water.

Annie’s thoughts were a tangled web. She smoothed her skirt down and crossed her legs, staring at the lake surrounding them to avert her eyes from the way his muscles clung to his shirt. A cool gust of wind swept over their boat drying the small bead of sweat that had started to form at her temple.

The lakefront cabins of The Black Elk Lodge lined the shore behind them. Small, wooden cabins with hanging lanterns, flower boxes on the porch, and warm orange light in the windows. 

Sounds from the island started to fade as they rowed into a thinner stretch of the lake. Ancient trees stood tall like ancestors along the shore. Spanish moss hung overhead like lace curtains, turning the sun into little slivers of bronze light that spotted the forest floor.

“Pretty out here,” Annie remarked quietly.

She trailed her fingers along the water. It rippled and separated under her touch into gentle waves that sloshed along the side of the boat.

“Yeah it is,” Smoke agreed. 

But he wasn’t talking about the lake. He was talking about her.

He couldn’t stop looking at her. 

The colors of dusk shimmered on the water catching the contours of Annie’s skin that looked lit from within. Her cheekbones, full lips, button nose, doe eyes. She unpinned her hat and released her bun once they got further from the shore. Her hair—dark, thick and coiled down her back—caught the light in deep blue streaks that shimmered against the jewel-toned sky. She looked ethereal. Sunset made her beads glow against her skin; the multi-colored necklaces sat tucked gracefully under the neckline of her dress.

“You gon’ burn a hole in me, Elijah,” Annie said, eyes trained on the rippling water around their boat.

Smoke smirked.

“Just thinkin’ about how pretty you look right now.”

Annie huffed a laugh. “Just right now?”

“Nah,” Smoke chuckled. “You always beautiful…but you glowin’ different right now.” 

“Why, thank you.”

Just then, the sun cut sharply, burning into her eyes. Her entire iris flooded with a deep bronze color just long enough for it to make Smoke blink twice. 

“What?” 

Smoke shook his head. “Nothin’.” But something about the evening sky and the water bleeding into each other had him feeling like he was seeing something that wasn’t really there.

“You hungry?” he asked.

Their picnic basket was lined with sheer fabric and made of handwoven old reed with a handle covered in spiral carvings. It carried a couple baloney sandwiches with mustard, mason jars with sweet tea, and a brown paper bag filled with boiled peanuts rolled in honey and brown sugar. 

“‘Could use somethin’ sweet.”

Smoke uncovered the basket. Annie removed the paper bag from it and inhaled its sugary scent. She reached in and popped a peanut in her mouth. “Want one?”

Smoke looked at her like she should already know that answer.

Annie smiled. “You know–I never thought someone like you would be a sweet tooth.”

“Why not?”

“‘Cause you walk around like you eat straight salt for dinner.”

Smoke sucked his teeth and looked away.

Annie laughed lightly. “You know it’s true.”

Smoke looked back at her. “It ain’t.”

“Here.”

She put a peanut in her hand, holding it up to his lips as he held onto the oars. It went in easily, his lips leaving moist heat on her fingertips that went through her body in waves. 

Smoke hummed at the salty, sweet taste. “Mmmm.” The echo of his voice vibrated deep in her body. “That’s good.”

“You like it?” Annie teased with a sultry voice.

Smoke raised a brow as he set the oars in the boat. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

Smoke looked down at the peanut she had ready in her palm and leaned towards her anyways. He parted his mouth just enough. His lips touched her fingers again this time, his tongue licking through the opening of her fingertips as he took the candied peanut in his mouth. He licked his lips when he pulled back, eyes on her.

“Trouble.” 

“Me?” she snickered. She clutched her chest, taunting. “You the one tryna swallow my fingers.”

The air outside felt thicker over the water. The sky grew darker now, the brightness of the day dimming to something that looked like the glow of a low-burning oil lamp spread across the sky. Annie tossed the bag of peanuts back in the basket and screwed the cap off her mason jar of tea, taking a nervous sip.

“You come out here often?” she asked.

Smoke shrugged. “From time to time.”

“For what?”

Her eyes drifted to a pair of wood storks nested together along the bank. It was lined in reeds, soft mud, and the thick, tangled network of cypress roots that reached like fingers into the water. Annie thought it looked like the kind of place old spirits preferred. Somewhere quiet enough to listen and deep enough to hold secrets. Smoke favored that part too—the quiet, the shade, the way the trees swallowed noise and gave a man room to think.

“To quiet what won’t settle anywhere else.”

Annie turned to look at Smoke. This wasn't just a date.

“Thank you for showin' me this place,” she said. “Your place.”

She leaned in and he met her halfway.

The front room was dim. 

Not because he was trying to set the mood, but because he only had the patience to light two candles. The soft light brushed the walls, the flames coaxing shadows into a slow dance. Outside, the night breathed in low drones. An owl hooted somewhere—a deep, resonant sound that echoed through the trees. The wind fluttered through fallen leaves and whispered secrets through branches. But inside, the living room of Smoke and Stack's home held a calm, comfortable level of domesticity despite the hum of outdoors.

Smoke and Annie sat next to each other on the couch in Smoke’s house. Annie played a crossword puzzle from the Chicago Whip, stretched sideways across the couch with her feet in Smoke’s lap. Smoke had his hands on her feet as they went back and forth about the answers. 

“What’s a three-letter word for a four-legged animal with spots?”

“A cow,” Smoke said easily.

“No, that don’t fit my crossword.”

“What? Lemme see that…”

Smoke reached for the newspaper, but Annie moved it away from his grasp.

“It's a dog.”

“It could be a cat, too…since we just sayin’ shit.”

Annie swatted him with the newspaper.

“What was that for?”

“For bein' a smart ass.”

Annie set the newspaper down.

“Givin' up already?”

She shot him a look that could have cut through glass. “I’m tired.” She propped her head up with her hand.

Smoke started to push off the couch. “You ready to go back?”

“No,” her hand shot out, “not yet,” she said softer.

Smoke sat back.

Annie tugged on his arm, and he followed her pull as she brought him towards her. Slowly.

Not because he was scared.

He hadn’t been scared since he was a child.

But because he cared.

He laid down behind her, his front pressing against her back, and automatically wrapped an arm around her waist. His hold on her was tight, possessive. 

And Annie loved it.

She stroked his hand with her fingertips. It sat just above her bellybutton with a firm grip.

She melted into him.

He kissed the back of her shoulders first.

Light, delicate pecks that left warmth on her skin.

His lips moved to her neck and the kisses lingered longer, his arm tightening around her waist. He heard her gasps, her short panting breaths, and decided to keep going.

And Annie could feel everything. 

His kisses became closer together. 

Somehow, her hand lifted to the back of his head pulling him closer to her. 

She finally let out a word that wrecked him.

“Elijah,” she gasped.

Smoke chuckled, the sound forced a breath onto the delicate spot just behind her ear, and he heard something from her he never heard before.

A sharp, sudden intake of breath.

It was nothing like the noise she let out when he kissed her the other day. This one was quick, unexpected, new. It made her eyes widen.

It made her roll her hips once. The friction was there for a second and gone just as fast, but it pulled a low groan from him.

She laced their hands together and turned, just slightly. The movement pulled her under him.

Their faces met first.

They looked into each other’s eyes and rubbed noses. 

“Damn,” Smoke whispered. “You so beautiful.”

He leaned forward and their lips met gently. The kiss quickly turned passionate, their hunger urgent and palpable. Annie’s back pressed into Smoke’s front, and she could feel him behind her, hard and growing and right there.

Between the breaths and the pants and the tongues and the lips, he pulled back from her a second. Smoke looked down at her kiss-bruised lips and her blown pupils, and the want written all over her face.

They were so wrapped up in each other that he almost missed the sound of a car turning onto the dirt path that led to their home.

Almost.

But the soldier in him never knew a full night's rest.

Smoke’s head turned towards the door out of instinct. He listened carefully, then heard it clearly.

The rumble of an engine. 

Wheels erratically crunching over dirt.

Stack.

Smoke looked at Annie who had stilled under him, trying to figure out why he stopped.

“He's back.”

Annie paused for a second, then exhaled sharply and swung her legs over the side of the couch. She stood up slowly, smoothing the fabric of her dress along her hips as the adrenaline started to fade and annoyance started to set in. She walked over to the mirror to check her hair which had become a mass of crushed kinks, coils, and curls, and tried to tame it back into place even though she herself was completely undone.

Smoke sat on the couch, just staring at the floor.

He rubbed a hand down his face.

He couldn’t help but feel like Stack picked this very moment to come back—on purpose. He checked the Elgin watch on his wrist, 9:30pm. Stack never came in this early— not on the weekend anyway. 

Doors opened and closed in succession. Car door first. The snap of twigs and the crunch of polished shoes over solid earth next. Then the screen door creaked open and the bolt on the front door unlatched.

Stack walked in the house completely aware of what had just transpired, but he knew better. He was well versed in reading a room.

He noticed the way Smoke was sitting. Noticed how he was staring at the back of Annie who was fixing her hair in the mirror. He saw the pillows on the couch that look just as deflated as his brother.

He looked between them and his smirk spread slow and smug on his face. 

“Well good evenin’,” he announced, his voice cutting through their quiet tension.

Annie looked over from the other side of the room. “Evenin’,” she said warmly, putting the last of her pins in her hair.

Smoke didn’t respond. He pinched the bridge of his nose and pushed off the couch. 

“Annie,” he said to get her attention. She turned around as he stood up to grab his coat and car keys. “Let’s get to gettin’.”

Stack crossed the room and sat right on the couch. He got comfortable, putting an ankle on his knee before pulling a small notebook from his pocket.  “Leavin’ so soon?” 

He looked at Smoke, then Annie, then back to Smoke. 

“It’s gettin’ late,” Smoke grumbled. He grabbed Annie’s hand and held the door wide as she slipped underneath his arm. 

“Bye, Elias!” Annie said as she practically skipped to Smoke’s truck with Smoke’s gaze following right behind her. 

“Bye, Annie!” Stack yelled after her. “Bye, Elijah,” he said to Smoke in a slower, more teasing manner. 

Smoke rolled his eyes and grunted as he walked down the steps to his truck. He opened the door for Annie who hustled into the passenger seat. Smoke shut her door carefully then rounded the front to the driver’s side. Once he got in, he let the quiet sit for a second before adjusting himself in his seat.

Annie pretended she didn’t see it, but her face, half shadowed in darkness and the light from the front room of the cottage, betrayed her. She looked out the window smiling as the engine started with a rattle and sputter of the exhaust pipe. 

The drive back to Aunt Della’s boarding house was quiet. Moonlight flooded the cab of the truck, highlighting the contours of Smoke's face—his eyelashes, his lips, his mustache all bathed in a pale, lunar glow. His hand rested on her thigh, holding firmly onto the supple flesh. Annie traced along the veins of his hand with her fingertips before laying her palm on top of his.

“I had a good time tonight,” she said after about a mile of silence.

“You did?” 

“Yeah, I did.”

“Good,” he said quietly. 

The stars sprinkled tiny silver blessings above them as they made their way to the boarding house, the occasional animal darting in the road, drawn like a moth to a flame to his headlights. Smoke and Annie laced their fingers together as the road to town stretched in front of them. 

-

-

*Song by Bud Spires

Note: Sorry this took so long to post. I was lowkey scared. 😂 But on another note— The Harvest Party is coming up next!

After that rather unfortunate event, Smoke’s girl decided it would be best if they didn’t try that again. The pair had attempted to make it up to her, and while she was elated to have Smoke and Annie making her body scream while her feet touched the headboard, it wasn’t enough for the lingering thoughts and memories and doubts to subside.

Smoke sat up in bed.

It was late as hell, and his girl was sleeping peacefully beside him, but his mind couldn’t rest. He was stuck thinking about Annie and wondering what she was doing—if she was up thinking about him, too. Since his girl had put an end to things, he hadn’t had much of a chance to see Annie. She’d come over to hang out or pick his girl up for a trip to the mall, but he kept his distance as best he could. Annie was addictive; Annie was everything he thought of now, and he knew it wasn’t right. His girl didn’t deserve to be treated that way, but when his mind would drift back to Annie, he couldn’t care any less about her feelings.

Huffing silently into the still night air, the man’s back hit the headboard before he reached to retrieve his phone from the nightstand. Beside him, his girl was curled up in the sheets, and when she sensed his movements, she groaned, touching his leg in a need for closeness. It always amused him how much she wanted him even in sleep, but he was on a mission, so stilling his body, he went to work.

His phone illuminated the ceiling. It shined over his face—stoic as always—and it took him no time at all to find Annie’s contact. She had put it in his phone that day when his girl had gone to the bathroom. In the time that she’d been away from them, Annie had added her number, texted herself, deleted the message, and made him a promise to figure this out while kissing the edge of his mouth. All he could do in that moment was listen, nod his head, and kiss her full and on the lips.

But neither of them had reached out.

Neither of them had the courage.

Smoke swore he was waiting for the right time, and Annie was waiting for him to make the first move. Anxiety causing his fingers to tremble, Smoke was beginning to think he’d get no better time than the present.

You up?

The first text was simple. He was a man of few words, a man who didn’t beat around the bush too often. His stomach thumped in anticipation and regret, but when three dots rose in the bottom left corner, his nostrils flared.

i am thought you’d never text me

You got my number, too. You coulda made the first move

you don’t know who you talkin to, do you? i don’t make the first move. i don’t chase no man or woman. they chase me

So you consider this me chasin you?

it is one in the morning, smokey. what else you doin if you ain’t tryna get into some mess?

His jaw clenched at the nickname, at how easily she had read him, but all it really did was stoke the flames and make him want her more. He looked down at the woman clinging to his legs. His eyes immediately focused on the phone once again.

She sleep beside me. So I can’t do much.

He felt raw with need as he texted her, wide open for her to see all of him, but he didn’t mind it. His mind flashed back to that day when they had gotten so inwrapped in each other that all they could do was keep going. There was a closeness between them that he couldn’t make sense of; All he knew was that he needed her again.

Smoke watched the curser blink as the delivered message stared back at him. He quickly moved to type once more.

I been thinkin bout the other day.

me too, baby i been needin you so bad it’s too hard to ignore

Shit. I been thinkin bout just givin in

i think you should. we’ve fucked already anyway, so just let it happen

Fuck. We doin this fr?

if you want to, smokey. come over to my place tomorrow

Bet.

And without much effort or tooth pulling, Smoke gave in and let go. He went to Annie’s home the next day. And the day after that. And the day after that. He was with Annie whenever he could get a chance, coming and going as he pleased, and she welcomed him with open arms and a heart free of guilt.

It had made her feel like shit at first, but how could you blame her? Smoke knew how to take care of every single one of her needs, and her friend should have been focused on keeping that good dick on lock. It wasn't her fault that the threesome had awakened something in her, a side that needed Smoke just as much as he needed her. And with time, they just grew more attached to each other, completely uncaring for how this would impact themselves and others.

~~~~~

Bent over the center console with her heels rooted into the floor of the backseat, Annie muffled her moans as Smoke stroked her deeply. They were in his truck, parked in the middle of an abandoned lot, and although they were trying to be inconspicuous, the way he was thrusting into her had the truck rocking back and forth.

"Take this shit, baby," Smoke growled, smacking the side of her ass. It had become a force of habit now because he couldn't just watch that ass bounce on him and not touch her. She was addicting, and the more time they spent together, the easier it was to have her body screaming.

Unsuccessful in her attempts to shush herself, Annie cried his name, begged him to let her cum. As much as she needed the relief, they both had places to be that didn't involve each other. And the longer they went at it like this, the more their schedules were getting pushed back and the closer they were to this situation being ruined.

Behind her, sweat beaded on Smoke’s forehead. If you asked him, the man would swear that he and Annie were molded for each other—perfectly created for this moment. He knew where he had to be, knew that Annie had plans too, but he was losing himself in this, in her.

His strokes shifted out of rhythm as he began to feel his body tighten in every muscle. Anticipation grew, and his eyes clouded over.

Barking out a command for her give it to him, Smoke continued to fuck Annie through her orgasm. When her moans turned to whines, his chest expanded at the glorious sound; And with little effort, he let go into the condom, sinking back into the car seat for reprieve.

"You know she settin' up a double date, right," Annie huffed. She fixed her skirt, pulling it back down to an appropriate length and unsuccessfully smoothing out the wrinkles.

The man beside her was fully relaxed into the seat, mind blank. His eyes were closed, head tilted toward the ceiling as the after effects of his orgasm soothed his exhausted body; But as he registered her words, dread filtered through him.

"A double date with who," Smoke questioned wearily. His voice had a groggy note to it, but his fear and irritation shined through.

"You two and me and the nigga I'm seein' right now," she rolled her eyes in annoyance. Without even taking the chance to look, she knew the expression he wore on his face: one of confusion; one of betrayal. They'd never talked about her new man, and quite frankly, she wasn't ready to have this conversation with him, but they both needed to get on one accord if they were going to be able to pull this date night off without acting like people who have fucked each other more than once.

She pretended to be engrossed in her phone, biting at her bottom lip as she felt the anger course through him.

"Well, you must be confused 'cause the only nigga you seein' is me," Smoke boomed. Chest heaving, the man shook his head, finally gaining awareness of his surroundings again. Empty parking lot. In the backseat of his truck. Half naked. With his girl’s friend.

Hastily, he fixed his clothes and set the used condom to the side before turning in the woman's direction. But she refused to look him in the eye, refused to speak.

"Don't piss me off, Annie," he exasperated, shaking his head in disbelief.

"You can't claim me, Smoke," the woman reasoned, arms wrapped tightly under her chest. Her eyes finally flashed over his body, and when they settled on his eyes, she could tell just how torn he was. The emotion made her blood boil. "You got her, so I can fuck around with whoever I want."

"So you fuckin' this nigga, too," Smoke thundered, arms flailing as everything felt like it was hitting him at once. He didn't have time to listen to reason. All he knew was that Annie belonged to him—whether it was fair to feel that way or not.

"I'm not fuckin' nobody but you, so don't even go there for real," she argued, hand in his face as she put emphasis on each word. "You shouldn't be worried 'bout shit when you got a whole bitch at home waitin' for yo' cheatin' ass like a dummy."

Taken aback, Smoke revved his head back, brows pulling together.

"That's yo' damn friend, too, so if you feel any better in this situation than I do, you the dummy," he chastised, pointing a finger right back at her. "I ain't even touched her ass for real since we started doin' this 'cause I'm tryna be faithful to you."

"Oh my God! Do you hear yourself," Annie laughed, completely astonished. "You talkin' 'bout bein' faithful like you ain't doin' wrong to somebody else."

"Whatever," Smoke tsked, rolling his eyes and letting his back meet the seat again. He ain’t feel like explaining it to her, but the way he saw it, his relationship was over. It was over when she decided to bring someone new in the equation. It was over when she made him feel like he wasn’t enough. Breathing deeply, he cut his eyes at Annie, leveling her with a look. "I just know you better not show up wit' no other nigga," he warned.

"You don't own me, Smoke" she shouted in response, and as she continued to curse him out and call him every name in the book, Annie climbed out of the backseat and slammed the door shut. Smoke watched her with an angered expression, but no matter how upset he was, he still ensured she made it safely to her car parked nearby. Defeated, he watched he skirt out of the abandoned parking lot, leaving him behind.

~~~~~

A week passed without word from Annie. Smoke texted and called and even showed up at her house a couple of times, but she refused to speak with him. In her mind, she was a grown ass woman who could do whatever she wanted because Smoke wasn’t her man. But in his mind, Smoke was her nigga and her only nigga.

When his girl told him about the double date, he made sure to respond appropriately. Not overly surprised. Not overly excited or interested. He made sure to seem somewhere in the middle because the way he responded to Annie was not how he needed to show up here. He needed to be as neutral as possible, and while he did the best he could, he could tell that his girl had picked up on something in his response.

Whether it be the uptick of his pulse, the tightening of his jaw, or the tremble of his hands, he knew she saw something—and there was no burying the realization that had popped up in her head.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

word count: ~2,000

a/n: shit's getting messyyy. what y'all thing gon happen at the double datee?

taglist: comment HERE to be added!

After that rather unfortunate event, Smoke’s girl decided it would be best if they didn’t try that again. The pair had attempted to make it up to her, and while she was elated to have Smoke and Annie making her body scream while her feet touched the headboard, it wasn’t enough for the lingering thoughts and memories and doubts to subside.

Smoke sat up in bed.

It was late as hell, and his girl was sleeping peacefully beside him, but his mind couldn’t rest. He was stuck thinking about Annie and wondering what she was doing—if she was up thinking about him, too. Since his girl had put an end to things, he hadn’t had much of a chance to see Annie. She’d come over to hang out or pick his girl up for a trip to the mall, but he kept his distance as best he could. Annie was addictive; Annie was everything he thought of now, and he knew it wasn’t right. His girl didn’t deserve to be treated that way, but when his mind would drift back to Annie, he couldn’t care any less about her feelings.

Huffing silently into the still night air, the man’s back hit the headboard before he reached to retrieve his phone from the nightstand. Beside him, his girl was curled up in the sheets, and when she sensed his movements, she groaned, touching his leg in a need for closeness. It always amused him how much she wanted him even in sleep, but he was on a mission, so stilling his body, he went to work.

His phone illuminated the ceiling. It shined over his face—stoic as always—and it took him no time at all to find Annie’s contact. She had put it in his phone that day when his girl had gone to the bathroom. In the time that she’d been away from them, Annie had added her number, texted herself, deleted the message, and made him a promise to figure this out while kissing the edge of his mouth. All he could do in that moment was listen, nod his head, and kiss her full and on the lips.

But neither of them had reached out.

Neither of them had the courage.

Smoke swore he was waiting for the right time, and Annie was waiting for him to make the first move. Anxiety causing his fingers to tremble, Smoke was beginning to think he’d get no better time than the present.

You up?

The first text was simple. He was a man of few words, a man who didn’t beat around the bush too often. His stomach thumped in anticipation and regret, but when three dots rose in the bottom left corner, his nostrils flared.

i am thought you’d never text me

You got my number, too. You coulda made the first move

you don’t know who you talkin to, do you? i don’t make the first move. i don’t chase no man or woman. they chase me

So you consider this me chasin you?

it is one in the morning, smokey. what else you doin if you ain’t tryna get into some mess?

His jaw clenched at the nickname, at how easily she had read him, but all it really did was stoke the flames and make him want her more. He looked down at the woman clinging to his legs. His eyes immediately focused on the phone once again.

She sleep beside me. So I can’t do much.

He felt raw with need as he texted her, wide open for her to see all of him, but he didn’t mind it. His mind flashed back to that day when they had gotten so inwrapped in each other that all they could do was keep going. There was a closeness between them that he couldn’t make sense of; All he knew was that he needed her again.

Smoke watched the curser blink as the delivered message stared back at him. He quickly moved to type once more.

I been thinkin bout the other day.

me too, baby i been needin you so bad it’s too hard to ignore

Shit. I been thinkin bout just givin in

i think you should. we’ve fucked already anyway, so just let it happen

Fuck. We doin this fr?

if you want to, smokey. come over to my place tomorrow

Bet.

And without much effort or tooth pulling, Smoke gave in and let go. He went to Annie’s home the next day. And the day after that. And the day after that. He was with Annie whenever he could get a chance, coming and going as he pleased, and she welcomed him with open arms and a heart free of guilt.

It had made her feel like shit at first, but how could you blame her? Smoke knew how to take care of every single one of her needs, and her friend should have been focused on keeping that good dick on lock. It wasn't her fault that the threesome had awakened something in her, a side that needed Smoke just as much as he needed her. And with time, they just grew more attached to each other, completely uncaring for how this would impact themselves and others.

~~~~~

Bent over the center console with her heels rooted into the floor of the backseat, Annie muffled her moans as Smoke stroked her deeply. They were in his truck, parked in the middle of an abandoned lot, and although they were trying to be inconspicuous, the way he was thrusting into her had the truck rocking back and forth.

"Take this shit, baby," Smoke growled, smacking the side of her ass. It had become a force of habit now because he couldn't just watch that ass bounce on him and not touch her. She was addicting, and the more time they spent together, the easier it was to have her body screaming.

Unsuccessful in her attempts to shush herself, Annie cried his name, begged him to let her cum. As much as she needed the relief, they both had places to be that didn't involve each other. And the longer they went at it like this, the more their schedules were getting pushed back and the closer they were to this situation being ruined.

Behind her, sweat beaded on Smoke’s forehead. If you asked him, the man would swear that he and Annie were molded for each other—perfectly created for this moment. He knew where he had to be, knew that Annie had plans too, but he was losing himself in this, in her.

His strokes shifted out of rhythm as he began to feel his body tighten in every muscle. Anticipation grew, and his eyes clouded over.

Barking out a command for her give it to him, Smoke continued to fuck Annie through her orgasm. When her moans turned to whines, his chest expanded at the glorious sound; And with little effort, he let go into the condom, sinking back into the car seat for reprieve.

"You know she settin' up a double date, right," Annie huffed. She fixed her skirt, pulling it back down to an appropriate length and unsuccessfully smoothing out the wrinkles.

The man beside her was fully relaxed into the seat, mind blank. His eyes were closed, head tilted toward the ceiling as the after effects of his orgasm soothed his exhausted body; But as he registered her words, dread filtered through him.

"A double date with who," Smoke questioned wearily. His voice had a groggy note to it, but his fear and irritation shined through.

"You two and me and the nigga I'm seein' right now," she rolled her eyes in annoyance. Without even taking the chance to look, she knew the expression he wore on his face: one of confusion; one of betrayal. They'd never talked about her new man, and quite frankly, she wasn't ready to have this conversation with him, but they both needed to get on one accord if they were going to be able to pull this date night off without acting like people who have fucked each other more than once.

She pretended to be engrossed in her phone, biting at her bottom lip as she felt the anger course through him.

"Well, you must be confused 'cause the only nigga you seein' is me," Smoke boomed. Chest heaving, the man shook his head, finally gaining awareness of his surroundings again. Empty parking lot. In the backseat of his truck. Half naked. With his girl’s friend.

Hastily, he fixed his clothes and set the used condom to the side before turning in the woman's direction. But she refused to look him in the eye, refused to speak.

"Don't piss me off, Annie," he exasperated, shaking his head in disbelief.

"You can't claim me, Smoke," the woman reasoned, arms wrapped tightly under her chest. Her eyes finally flashed over his body, and when they settled on his eyes, she could tell just how torn he was. The emotion made her blood boil. "You got her, so I can fuck around with whoever I want."

"So you fuckin' this nigga, too," Smoke thundered, arms flailing as everything felt like it was hitting him at once. He didn't have time to listen to reason. All he knew was that Annie belonged to him—whether it was fair to feel that way or not.

"I'm not fuckin' nobody but you, so don't even go there for real," she argued, hand in his face as she put emphasis on each word. "You shouldn't be worried 'bout shit when you got a whole bitch at home waitin' for yo' cheatin' ass like a dummy."

Taken aback, Smoke revved his head back, brows pulling together.

"That's yo' damn friend, too, so if you feel any better in this situation than I do, you the dummy," he chastised, pointing a finger right back at her. "I ain't even touched her ass for real since we started doin' this 'cause I'm tryna be faithful to you."

"Oh my God! Do you hear yourself," Annie laughed, completely astonished. "You talkin' 'bout bein' faithful like you ain't doin' wrong to somebody else."

"Whatever," Smoke tsked, rolling his eyes and letting his back meet the seat again. He ain’t feel like explaining it to her, but the way he saw it, his relationship was over. It was over when she decided to bring someone new in the equation. It was over when she made him feel like he wasn’t enough. Breathing deeply, he cut his eyes at Annie, leveling her with a look. "I just know you better not show up wit' no other nigga," he warned.

"You don't own me, Smoke" she shouted in response, and as she continued to curse him out and call him every name in the book, Annie climbed out of the backseat and slammed the door shut. Smoke watched her with an angered expression, but no matter how upset he was, he still ensured she made it safely to her car parked nearby. Defeated, he watched he skirt out of the abandoned parking lot, leaving him behind.

~~~~~

A week passed without word from Annie. Smoke texted and called and even showed up at her house a couple of times, but she refused to speak with him. In her mind, she was a grown ass woman who could do whatever she wanted because Smoke wasn’t her man. But in his mind, Smoke was her nigga and her only nigga.

When his girl told him about the double date, he made sure to respond appropriately. Not overly surprised. Not overly excited or interested. He made sure to seem somewhere in the middle because the way he responded to Annie was not how he needed to show up here. He needed to be as neutral as possible, and while he did the best he could, he could tell that his girl had picked up on something in his response.

Whether it be the uptick of his pulse, the tightening of his jaw, or the tremble of his hands, he knew she saw something—and there was no burying the realization that had popped up in her head.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

word count: ~2,000

a/n: shit's getting messyyy. what y'all thing gon happen at the double datee?

taglist: comment HERE to be added!

“She was one of those languid women made of dark honey. Smooth and sweet, and terribly sticky, who take control of a room with a syrupy gesture. A toss of the hair, a single, slow whiplash of the eyes—and all the while remain as still as the center of a hurricane, apparently unaware of the force of gravity by which they irresistibly attract to themselves the yearnings and the souls of men.” Perfume - Patrick Süskind

Annie stared out the kitchen window of Nellie’s home, the pad of her thumb caught on the tip of an empty pea pod. She could see Nellie’s mama in the yard hanging linens from the clothesline. Beyond that, the hum of Fourth Street crept through the backyards and alleyways of the neighborhood. Smoke rose from the railroad depot a street over, coughing thick black puffs into the air that looked like a blemish against the bright blue afternoon sky. And somewhere in the distance, the sweet, rotten smell of the Sunflower River floated its way through the cracks of the modest shotgun off Ashton Street.

“Louisiana?” Gigi asked. She shelled a pea with quick hands, dropping the pod in the waste bowl. “You over there daydreamin’.”

“With a big ass grin on your face, too,” Verity chimed in.

Annie blinked twice. “Yeah. Just thinkin’.” 

Nellie grinned. “Mhmm. She thinkin’ about her man.”

Annie rolled her eyes but her mouth twitched. Her man. Her mouth felt dry, words trapped in her throat, but she didn’t dare swallow. Not with Nellie sneaking glances at her, Pearline watching her closely out of the corner of her eye, and Gigi eyeing her curiously. Eventually the conversation folded back into itself. The phonograph skipped to a new song, shells hit the bowl in the middle of the table with a hollow tap, Verity started talking about living in Bronzeville. But desire bloomed under Annie’s skin like a bruise the more she thought of Smoke, spreading through her veins like a whisper of lightning before a storm. 

“So are you gonna…you know…” Pearline started. “Give him your virgin?” she whispered.

Annie turned her head to Pearline.

“Uhh, I-I think so.”

“You think so? Or you know so?” Gigi asked.

“Don’t do it if you ain’t sure,” Pearline added.

“I am sure.”

The answer settled into the room.

“You scared?” The question came from Verity.

A beat.

“Yeah.”

“Of what?”

Before she could answer, another question followed, this time from Gigi again. “You scared of what it’s gon’ feel like, or how you gon’ feel after the deed is done?” 

Annie hummed in thought. 

“Both,” she said finally. “But mostly what it’s gon’ feel like.” 

She fiddled with her fingers. “Do it hurt?” 

She looked up then, avoiding the direct gaze of the faces staring back at her.

Verity spoke up.

“At first, yes,” she said honestly. “Then it feels good. As long as he know what he doin’,” she mumbled under her breath.

“Mhmm.”

“Oh,” Annie trailed off. She rubbed her arms, looking down at her work. Their pile of peas was dwindling down as the day dragged on.

Pearline placed a hand on Annie’s forearm, the touch reassuring. “I feel like you in good hands.”

“‘Specially since he snatched you up so quick,” Nellie added. “He ain’t waste no time.”

“None.”

Annie chuckled. She rubbed her arms again. “Yeah, I guess so.”

She shifted her weight on the chair, her chest tightening. Her heartbeat thumped loudly in her chest, and she tried to ease it by taking deep, controlled breaths. As the conversation in Nellie’s kitchen turned into something lighter, Annie’s thoughts drifted back to what she finally admitted out loud.

The next day…

A bloody sludge of gills and guts covered Annie’s apron. Her fingers, the edge of the kitchen counter—coated in it. She cleaned and gutted catfish, then skinned, trimmed, and sliced them with a thin, sharp knife, separating the scaly skin from the fillet after removing the entrails. The heads sat in a corner of the countertop, where Felix sat on the kitchen floor just below. Tail swinging, eyes wide, he looked like he was ready to pounce.

Annie watched him out of the corner of her eye. 

“Aht aht!” she scolded, pointing the tip of her knife at him. “Don’t even think about it.” 

Some of the gunk from the knife flew onto his paw, which he looked down at like he was personally offended by its presence. He looked up at Annie and meowed, a short trill of frustration. 

She talked back like he could understand what she was saying, looking up from scooping the kidney out of a fish. “What?”

“Mrrp,” he meowed.

Annie rolled her eyes. “That ain’t my problem.”

“Mrrrrrrrrp.”

“Since when you scared of a lil’ blood?”

Felix yawned and rubbed his head with his clean paw, licked the blood off his other one, then meowed again.

“Le pauvre,” she teased.

He whipped around, slipping out the back through the slightly cracked door. Just then Aunt Della walked through the same door, a basket at her hip full of root vegetables. Her hair was pinned back and kept in place with a lavender headscarf, her temples displaying hues of vivid black and silver kinks, coils, and curls that spoke to time and memory. She set the basket and her gardening gloves down on the kitchen table next to the chipped ceramic bowl of onions.

“What you do?”

“To who?” Annie wiped the sweat beading on her brow with the back of her arm.

“Felix.”

“I ain’t did nothin’ to that boy,” she huffed. “He wanna stand in the rain and be mad he got wet.”

“Figures,” Aunt Della chuckled. “You almost done?”

“Almost done, auntie,” Annie answered. “Got two more left.” 

“Lemme start heatin’ this oil up then.”

Three knocks on the front door interrupted their routine, causing both ladies to turn their heads. Loretta Hightower stood at the door, visible through the front window in a tailored three-piece set and matching hat. The vibrant green suit dazzled under the sun that cloaked the porch in a veil of honey-gold. Annie, elbows deep in fish guts, turned back to the catfish while Aunt Della walked over to answer the front door.

“Delilah!” Loretta squealed. 

“Loretta!” 

They embraced. A long, familiar hold that spoke of history and friendship. The low murmur of their conversation carried into the kitchen as Annie stood facing the large back window. Felix was bathing himself with his tongue, staring at her like he had an attitude. She stuck her tongue out at him.

Soft footsteps and the click-clack of heels approached the kitchen. 

“Annie! Loretta got somethin’ for you.”

Annie gasped softly, turning and wiping her hands off on her apron. “What is it?” 

“You got a letter back.” 

Annie jolted and hurried to the wash basin. 

“Oh, let me just…” She submerged her hands down to her forearms in the soapy water, picking up a brush to scrub under her fingernails. “Just gimme a second. Thank you so much, Mrs. Hightower.”

Aunt Della and Loretta chuckled. 

“It’s not goin’ anywhere, baby,” Aunt Della assured her. 

“And it’s a thick one, too, Annie,” Loretta added.

Annie’s heart went from leaping, to soaring, to beating so fast it almost bolted out of her chest. She scrubbed death off her hands until they started to prune. They shook gently underneath the water, vibrating the basin and splashing droplets onto her apron. Aunt Della and Loretta could both hear the soft sniffles she tried to hide underneath the sounds of splashing water. Aunt Della approached her and Annie felt a hand on her back as she whispered something that made her calm her frantic movements.

Annie slowed her motions, dried her hands, and took the envelope, holding it like she held the world in her palms. She brought the paper to her nose, inhaling the familiar scent of her mother’s perfume and her father’s aftershave, breathing it into memory. She gently detached the adhesive of the envelope with wobbly fingers, her heart thumping in her chest as she removed a stack of thick, wide paper folded delicately from the envelope, taking care to notice the flower petals that were packed along with it. 

Blue lobelias. 

They were her favorite.

It was a visually striking perennial that grew in clusters in the field by her great-grandmother’s shack. She remembered hiding behind them when she played hide-and-seek with her brothers as a child. 

Annie wiped a tear that threatened to fall down her cheek carefully and unfolded the letter. The first thing her eyes ran across was her mother’s beautiful cursive that filled the page with soft, whimsical strokes.

Our dear Annie, was all she read at first. Then she reread it. And read it again. 

The words hit her right in the gut. Homesickness burned deep under her skin, hotter than the afternoon sun that hung large and heavy and beamed through the kitchen windows. Deciding to read the letter later on, she tucked it back into the envelope, careful not to spill any petals. The thick envelope went into her apron pocket. 

“Thank you, Mrs. Hightower. Thank you so much.” 

Loretta took a step towards her, then widened her arms, bringing her into a hug. She rubbed her back with a soothing, maternal warmth.

“Lemme know if you need anything else, okay?”

“Yes ma’am.”

Annie felt the long tail of Felix tickle the side of her calf as he contorted his body around her ankle and tilted his head up at her.

“Mrrow,” he purred.

“Guess you ain’t mad at me no mo’, huh?” Annie pursed her lips at Felix as he stared at her for a moment before disappearing into the front room. 

“Well, I better be goin’,” Loretta said. “Almost supper time at the restaurant.” 

“Thank you again,” Annie said.

Loretta nodded, gave Aunt Della a hug, then walked towards the front, the floorboards groaning under her heels. She hesitated at the door, looked back and gave another winsome smile, then slipped outside without another word. 

For a moment, the cool air that crept in made the room feel less stuffy, like the crack of the door let something slip out with it. 

Annie exhaled, her shoulders relaxing.

“You okay, sugar?” Aunt Della asked.

“Yeah,” Annie looked around, rolling up her sleeves. “Just need to do somethin’ with my hands.” 

She crossed the room to the woodstove and scooped a heaving amount of lard into the cast iron pot to heat up. She checked the pot of beans on the back burner, stirring it once before covering it back up. Aunt Della moved to the counter, rolling her own sleeves up and cleaning the catfish filets while Annie mixed the batter together.

The scent of frying oil filled the kitchen even as words didn’t. 

The two women worked together quietly preparing supper as the shuffle of boots became louder, attracted by the smell of spice and fried cornmeal. 

Annie stood at the stove frying fish in batches, watching the corners curl up and waiting to feel the underside was the perfect shade of golden before it was ready to flip.

Annie was in her head.

Because that’s where the letter lived. Not the words. Not yet. It was the smell of her parents soaked into the paper. The flower petals that brought her back to her childhood. 

She didn’t hear the door creak, the screen door slamming shut in that playful way. Didn’t notice the floorboards acquiesce under the weight of his soldier-like footfalls. Didn’t feel the air in the room shift. Didn’t hear him greet Aunt Della in the background. And definitely didn’t hear him approach her.

Two large hands gripped Annie’s waist. The scent of tobacco and peppermint, potent and personal, floated over her shoulder eclipsing the smell of hot grease.

Annie smiled. “Hey.”

“Hey.” 

Smoke set his chin on her shoulder, his hands firm on her hips. “How you be?” 

“Good,” she hummed, the answer an affirmation that settled deep in his chest. 

Better now, she thought to herself. 

The homesickness—gone. Thoughts of the place she called—used to call—home, all melted under his touch. It soothed her somehow. The way his grip was firm but gentle on her waist. Possessive when he pulled her in tighter and rested his chin on her shoulder. Restrained when a shaky breath hit the delicate skin of her neck.

Smoke noticed it all. 

The way her shoulders slackened when he touched her. 

The little jolt that ran through her body. Barely noticeable, but there. 

The way her breath hitched. 

The way she tried to hide it all. 

That was his favorite part; the way she tried to mask her reactions. 

Then she did something unexpected.

Before he knew it she reached behind her, her fingers finding the shell of his ear. She grazed it just once with her fingertips, the touch barely there. But still. He couldn't help but shiver. It was a full-body one. His grip tightened on her waist, fingers twisting the fabric of her skirt for a second before relaxing again. He watched the corner of her mouth turn up as she turned a fish filet in the cast iron pan. Then he grinned too. His lips twisted playfully, the dimple in his cheek caving in.

“Y’all lookin’ mighty cozy over there.”

Stack. 

He walked in, brows high on his forehead when he saw Smoke behind Annie like a vat of hot oil wasn’t bubbling right in front of them. Steam rose slowly from the pot, beading sweat on both Annie and Smoke’s foreheads. One bad decision and a body part could end up with a third-degree burn.

But neither of them seemed to care. 

They didn’t seem to notice he or Miss Della were even there.

Annie swayed a bit as she flipped and dipped fish. And Smoke moved with her, a hushed conversation taking place between them as he rested his head on her shoulder. 

Stack looked at Aunt Della like “you seein’ this?” She shrugged. He walked over and gave her a hug as she prepared sides with serving utensils, all the while eyeing the perfectly golden-brown catfish strips piling up on a platter next to the stove. 

His mouth watered at the smell of the crispy fried crust and the spice of the batter—and he just knew once he bit into it, it’d steam and flake just the way he liked it.

So he took a chance.

He reached for a piece at the edge of the platter and two heads snapped towards him.

“You tryna get popped?” Annie asked.

Stack pulled his hand back. “I’m tryna get some fish, actually.”

“You’ll get some when it’s ready.”

“It looks ready.”

“I mean during supper. At the table.”

“I just wanna taste.”

Annie smirked, her chin tilting up playfully. “Later.”

Stack reached again.

“Boy!” She pointed her tongs at him.

Smoke watched the whole thing, amused. He didn’t move from his position.

“Girl!”

“You tryna get burned? Stack, you too close to the stove.”

Stack blinked. “Y’all basically knee deep in oil.” He smoothed out his shirt. “Besides. A lil’ burn won’t hurt me, woman.”

“You gon’ get popped with more than just oil if you don’t move,” Annie said with a grin. 

“Make it worth my while then,” he teased back. “Lemme get a lil’ piece.” He was relentless. He eyed a strip with a crispy end that he could break off easily. He reached out for the third time. 

Annie sighed. She had turned back to watching the pot now, but still caught Stack out of the corner of her eye. “Don’t move that hand.”

Stack smirked.

Annie rolled her eyes, breaking off the end of the piece Stack was eyeing. Steam curled into the air as the fish broke apart in flaky, white pieces. “Here, greedy!” She placed it in his palm before turning back to the stove.

“I’ll be that,” Stack teased. He hummed as soon as the savory spice of the fish hit his tastebuds. “Thank ya kindly.” He swaggered into the front room satisfied.

Smoke finally moved. 

“I’ll let you get back to it,” he said. He rubbed her shoulders and kissed her cheek before following his brother out the same way.

Annie chuckled to herself, shaking her head as she finished the last pieces she had left to fry. 

“I reckon everything goin' well between you two.” Aunt Della said.

Whole time, Annie had completely forgotten her great-aunt was even in the room. Her cheeks warmed at the thought of a moment—any moment with Smoke, really—being watched.

“Uh yeah,” she replied. That familiar tingling she only got when she thought about him spreading across her skin like wildfire. “We are.”

Annie felt Aunt Della’s smile from across the room, even with her back turned. She left the kitchen to ring the supper bell, the fabric of her skirt fluttering around her. 

Men made their way into the dining area one-by-one, fresh from cleaning their hands. They carried with them the smell of musk, turpentine, and a hard day’s work. It was heavy. Masculine. 

The twins walked in last.

Stack came in first, all dimples and bright eyes.

Smoke walked in behind him still sporting that same dimple that showed up earlier when his eyes found hers.

He didn’t hurry to sit at the table. Didn’t hurry to grab a plate. He stood at the edge of the room, waiting as Annie and Miss Della brought in the food. A large platter of fried fish, a steaming pot of beans and rice, skillets of cornbread, and a large pot of greens went to the middle of the table. 

The dining area filled with rising steam, watering mouths, and low conversation as the lodgers began to devour their supper.

Annie dropped her arms and stepped to him, the faint smell of pipe mix and soap clinging to his clothes.

“You not gon’ eat?” she asked.

“Was waitin’ for you.”

“You ain’t gotta do that.”

He grabbed her hands. “I do.”

Annie tipped her head towards the kitchen. “Lemme go wash up first.” 

“I’ll fix you a plate. Before these niggas eat it all.”

Annie giggled softly.

“Whatchu want?” 

“Just some fish…,” she said, walking backwards to the kitchen, “and some beans and rice.”

Smoke nodded once. “I got it.”

Supper was spent at the high-top four-seater table in the corner of the dining area. Smoke and Annie sat next to each other, Stack and Aunt Della directly across from them. They talked. They laughed. They ate. They drank. 

Every so often, Annie’s shoulder would brush against Smoke’s. She’d reach across the table for something—her glass, the saltshaker. When she pulled back their arms would press against each other and they’d stay there. Close. It felt like both of them were waiting for the moment something would force them to pull away from each other. It didn’t. 

Occasionally, Smoke would brush lint from Annie’s clothes or thumb a crumb from her cheek. His fingers would linger for a second too long, like they were waiting on her to pull back. She didn’t.

By the time supper was long over, the heat still lingered. 

It wasn’t from the food.

Even outside where a cool breeze swept through the night in broken intervals, pulling a delicate, melodic sound from the windchimes that reached back into the yard where Smoke and Annie stood. A fading oil lamp hung up high, casting gold across the backyard and leaving the rest of it in shadows. 

Annie didn’t know why she pulled Smoke to the side of the lean-to shed. Or maybe she did and she just didn’t want to admit it to herself.

She stood by it, back pressed against the wooden siding, hips tilted out slightly as her fingers twisted in the fabric of her skirt. 

Smoke stood in front of her, jaw tight, hands at his sides. They flexed periodically, twitched like he was fighting something. 

Nature’s soundtrack felt even louder tonight. The chirp of crickets shuddered in the grass. The deep bellow of a bullfrog echoed in the distance. And somewhere down the block, a harmonica played a gritty blues bend that floated down the street like smoke curling from a cigarette.

But the moment Annie shifted, the sounds began to slowly fade away. 

She moved in one smooth motion. Her hands rose to the collar of Smoke’s shirt, fingers twisting around the edge. Then she tugged, just once. The movement pulled him in until his hands bracketed her on the shed. 

She didn’t hesitate. 

The kiss started softly.

The slow smack of lips drowned out the crickets first, then the bullfrog. Then the metal-on-metal tapping of the water pump, its handle moving stubbornly with the wind. Smoke pulled Annie towards him as their mouths moved against each other. His hands found the small of her back, making it bow into him until she wrapped her arms around his neck and gave in to his pull. He sighed as the feeling of soft, plush curves met a hard stomach, strong arms, and broad shoulders carved by war and Mississippi cotton fields. 

They kissed slowly. Like they were savoring the taste of each other. Their lips met and released, connecting in a slow dance that was all their own. Then the kiss deepened, their tongues coming out to play as they twirled around each other.

Annie’s hands moved from his neck to his shoulders to steady herself as their heads swiveled and they explored every corner of their mouths. She gasped, then groaned, when he pulled her bottom lip into his mouth. Biting, then soothing the sting with a lick.

Their tongues flicked against each other, slow and nasty. Like the harmonica still playing down the street. It had slowed down its tune, the legato wailing all sultry and soulful through the night. 

Even that sound disappeared after a while. It was quiet in the bubble they created when it was just them two, just shared breaths and gasps for air. 

Annie tasted like pot likker and the peppermint stick she sucked on after supper. Like home on a quiet winter evening in front of a fire. Smoke tasted like tobacco and grass from the cigarette he finished right before Annie pulled him into the backyard when she thought nobody was paying attention.

Her hands fell from his shoulders to his chest, rubbing her palms against the solidness that sat underneath the cotton. His hands traveled south from her back to the curve of her ass, his calloused hands smoothing over all the thickness that sat back there. 

His blood sparked hot. 

His hands itched to grip, wanted to grab—but he pulled back instead.

“Annie,” he rasped, his voice low and rough.

Their breaths were heavy, lustful. What began slowly was quickly turning into something more gluttonous than supper. He felt it in him. He saw it in Annie.

He pressed his forehead to hers. Her eyes widened as the noise from inside swelled abruptly. She turned her head towards it as her pulse sped down and her breath came out slower. When the noise dimmed down again, she turned back.

“Why’d you stop?”

The question cut through the silence. 

Smoke looked at Annie, her brows knit, her eyes searching his.

The oil lamp above them crackled one last time before completely snuffing out, leaving them with just the dim light that pooled outside from the kitchen window. A large wax candle sat on the sill, its fire burning dimly through the window. Annie looked at Smoke. Even in the near darkness outside, she could feel the hunger in his gaze. 

And she felt the same way. 

Famished.

Smoke lifted a hand. His fingers brushed the side of her face, grazing the smooth skin of her cheek. Annie’s eyes fluttered under his touch. Her hand grabbed his wrist and his hand stilled, but it wasn’t to stop him. It was to hold him there. 

“It’s okay,” she whispered, gulping when she saw the darkening of his eyes.

“I ain’t never…” was all she got off before the words disappeared in her throat. 

She didn’t finish her sentence. She didn’t need to.

Everything in Smoke went still except the muscle of his jaw that twitched once then stopped.

He looked away.

He wasn’t surprised. That was the thing.

Her words were confirmation of something he’d already assumed about her. 

But there was something about the way she said it that he filed away for later.

She’d never been touched. 

Not like this. 

And while he stood breathing desire down her throat with his hand on her ass, he felt something twist in his chest.

Guilt.

It moved in quickly, crowding his thoughts. Guilt for moving too fast. Guilt for letting his want for her carry him far enough that he had to stop himself before she did. 

“I know,” Smoke said finally. 

Annie looked away.

“Look at me.”

She couldn’t look at him at that moment. 

Not because she was embarrassed, ashamed, or insecure. Not really. She just felt inexperienced. Young in a way she hated feeling in anybody’s eyes. 

Her eyes traveling up his chest to his collar where she picked at a loose thread. “I want you,” she whispered, “to be my first.” 

The words were so quiet that the night almost took hold of them. 

Smoke’s eyes closed for half a second. He pulled her close, pressing his forehead to hers. 

“You ‘sho?”

For a split second, his words sounded like a plea to Annie rather than a question.

“Yes,” she said, grabbing onto the folds of his shirt. 

The backyard held its breath. Here in their little bubble, the only thing that existed was Smoke, Annie, and this moment between them. Smoke took Annie’s hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles, keeping his eyes trained on hers.

“You mine?”

Annie grinned, nodding once. 

“Nah,” Smoke gripped her chin again, tracing her bottom lip with his thumb. “I wanna hear you say it.”

She lowered her head, then looked up, her big brown eyes certain and glittering in the sliver of moonlight that peeked out from behind the clouds. Her lips parted. “I’m yours. Tout.”

“Creole?”

“Mhmm,” she grinned proudly.

Smoke hummed— a deep vibrating sound that shot up Annie’s spine. Her words were a soothing balm, loosening the hooks of guilt lodged in his back.

“Good,” he said. He rubbed her back with wide strokes, holding her close as the nighttime settled around them, comfortable and warm despite the November cold. 

“Ou m’ap pèm?”

“What’s that?”

“You mine too?”

“Teach me how to say it back.”

“Mwen se ou.”

“Mwen se ou,” he repeated back.

“You gettin’ better,” she gasped, her whole face lighting up. 

Smoke smirked smugly. “Gotta good teacher.”

“Mwen se tout ou.”

“That too,” he grunted.

Annie snorted, turning her head briefly. “Don’t be makin’ fun of me.”

“I ain’t,” he shrugged. “That’s what you sound like.”

He gave her a real smile then, dimples deep in both his cheeks. He couldn’t hide it.

“I was so nervous,” she admitted, her grin wrapping around her words despite herself.

Smoke raised a brow. “Nervous ‘bout what?” 

“To tell you.”

“That you a virgin?”

Annie nodded, hand finding that loose thread again. Smoke grabbed her hand and kissed it.

“You ain’t gotta be nervous to tell me stuff, you hear?” 

Annie sighed, pressing her palms to his chest. “I know.”

Smoke stared down at Annie. Her soft, panting breaths, her heart beating against his own chest. He raised his right hand to hers, covering her right palm that lay directly over his heart. His thumb brushed over her knuckles. The gesture—the warmth in it—made her look at him. Their eyes locked and held, the look between them speaking louder than any words could at that moment. 

“I’m scared,” she said quietly. 

“Scared of what?” 

Their mouths moved but their bodies were still. Smoke’s hand sat over Annie’s on his chest like it was frozen there, his heart beat steadily under her palm. 

“What it’s gon’ be like,” she mumbled, barely a breath, “the first time.”

“What you think?”

Annie shook her head, unsure. “I don’t know.”

Smoke ran his tongue along the back of his teeth.

“How you want it to be?”

Annie’s lips twisted in thought as Smoke’s eyes pinned her in place. Their hands stayed where they were, his thumb tracing circles on the back of her hand. 

“Don’t be scared.”

Annie said nothing. Her lips parted like she wanted to speak but decided against it.

Smoke’s voice dropped low and deep, rough with something—but not sultry. He wasn’t trying to make her shiver or choke on a gasp. Not right now. Right now he wanted—needed—to assure her. He needed her to feel the promise in his words. Needed her to know he meant it.

He looked Annie in the eye, the weight of his hand pressing harder against hers where it rested on top of his heart. “I’m gon’ take good care of you, Annie.”

The words were simple, but she felt them in her core. Her skin lit up with that familiar tingle, her heartbeat thumping hard against her ribs. 

Annie looked down at her hand, shifting it slightly under his.

She could hear the promise beneath the words.

And something in her—something that felt older than her—told her to believe it. So, she did.

“I ain’t even thought about it like that. Not for real.”

Lie.

Smoke raised a brow. “Never?”

Annie shook her head once. Then she nodded, pursing her lips so the corner of her mouth would stop twitching. 

“Well,” she breathed, the gust of air warming his collarbone. “A little.”

She rolled her lips inward and finally looked up at him. 

The heat that had reduced to a simmer sparked up again. Smoke’s eyes darkened at her words, her curiosity, her comfort. Her closeness felt like second nature to him, but her vulnerability hit something deeper in his chest.

“What you was thinkin’?”

Annie’s eyes trailed from his eyes down to his lips. They sat perfectly on his face— thick, plump, and so soft against her own.

“Tell me,” he insisted, voice low and coaxing. 

“I had a dream…” She looked away. Her eyes went to something different now since she felt his gaze piercing her soul. She focused on a bush of moonflowers by the fence, their wilting petals fluttering in the breeze like little ghosts. “About you.” 

“‘Bout me?” he drawled. Smugly, almost. “And what happened in this dream?” His hands traveled up and down her spine.

Annie fidgeted nervously.

“I don’t remember.”

Smoke tilted his head. “How you know it was about me then?” 

She hesitated. 

“‘Cause….”

“‘Cause what?”

“How I felt.”

“How you feel?”

The flashbacks came in waves. Along with a feeling she couldn’t find the word for until now. 

“Full.” 

The word came out so tiny, it sounded accidental. It was barely a word. More like a faint expulsion of air that drifted through the seams of his mouth. But it was raw, and it settled like a presence in his chest, latching onto the corners of his soul that housed devotion and something deeper. 

Restraint pressed against every instinct he’d ever possessed and the inside of his slacks. 

This woman had no idea what she was doing to him.

“We should go inside,” he muttered. “Befo’ your aunt come lookin’ for us.”

Annie giggled softly, his shoulders relaxing at the sound. 

“You scared of Aunt Della?”

“Yes.”

Annie laughed for real this time, the tension loosening just enough to let them breathe again. They walked towards the back door and Smoke held the door open for her to fully step inside. 

The moon hung high above the rooftops, cutting through the inky black sky like a blade of silver light. It poured through the windows of Annie’s bedroom, making the lobelia petals that were scattered across her covers glow around the edges like they were suspended in a dream. 

Annie unfolded her letter, her eyes scanning through the words briefly, but she was only looking for one thing. Something she’d been holding in since Loretta first placed it in her hands.

The end.

The signatures.

She read it with shaky hands.

All our love,

Papa & Maman

Nana

Junior

Vernon

Leroy

Raymond

Maurice

They were all there.

Except one.

Uriah. 

He was her closest brother.

Annie didn’t know why she expected his name to be scrawled among the signatures, his chicken scratch inked deep into the paper. He’d been dead over a year at that point. But the absence felt worse than accepting he was dead.

She still felt him, like him slipping through the cracks of the earth didn’t necessarily mean he would be missing from a letter sent from home. 

She knew it wasn’t really his missing signature that made tears pool in her eyes, it was his soul. 

Since the government refused to send his body back from France after the war, his spirit had been unsettled. Restless. 

She felt it the most when she took her ilekes off. She always covered them, sandwiching them between two thin, white cloths that belonged to her great-grandmother, then set them in a drawer taking care that they didn’t touch the surface of the wood. 

She’d say a prayer for him at the tiny altar in the corner of her room that sat on top of a warped, lopsided, low table. It smelled of old wood, herbs, and dust.

Salt for protection and peace of mind.

A pinch of soil.

A Mississippi river rock.

His name written on a piece of paper. Pinched and folded in half towards her. 

A half-burned taper candle.

Blue cloth. A snippet from his baby quilt, stitched from her mother’s, grandmother’s and great-grandmother’s hands.

Molasses chews. Because those were his favorite growing up.

She lit the candle, the flame catching blue at first before bleeding orange. When it steadied, she bowed her head.

“Uriah Silas Antonio Royal,” she said. Her voice sounded tiny and helpless in the confines of her room. 

“Blood callin’ you even though your bones ain’t make it back.” 

She paused, taking a shaky breath. 

Then she laid her offering.

“Water for the journey. Salt for your peace. Light so you can see. A piece of home so you remember. Think of us, and remember where you belong.” 

The candle flickered violently. 

“Ancestors, please,” she said, looking out the window to the moon. “Don’t let him cross alone, he scared.” 

Annie swallowed hard to clear the lump that swelled in her throat, a tear drop falling directly onto the flame. It flickered and smoked, but the amber light held the line in the darkness of her room.

She bent over, crying quietly into the fabric of her nightgown, her tears dampening the delicate white cotton. She closed her eyes and the present slipped into the past, seamless and real. She could see it all— the draw, the aim, the shot. The scream she could feel in her bones, muffled by wet soil, quicklime, and tarp. 

Annie opened her eyes and the scent of graveyard dirt and saltwater hung in the air. The silence that came after wasn’t peaceful. It was eerie. 

After a while, she spoke again.

“Ain’t no guns tonight,” she said. She cleared her throat to silence the tears and took a few deep breaths. “Ain’t no shoutin’. Ain’t no mud in your mouth. Just light. Just a way home.” 

The flame flickered again, its shape bending against the darkness like someone was pushing on it. 

Annie wiped the grief that lay wet tracks on her cheeks. 

“It’s okay,” she rasped, catching her breath. “Come on home.”

The flame finally settled into itself. 

Only then did she blow it out. 

The next morning felt like a slow exhale. Annie moved around the boarding house with a lightness that felt like the rainbow after a thunderstorm. Morning duties went by smoothly, followed by breakfast, chores, lessons, and a quick lunch. By the afternoon she was tying bundles of roots in the kitchen while Aunt Della sat in the front room writing a letter at her desk. The house groaned around them as cool air settled into its bones. The phonograph was playing low in the background when they heard a knock on the front door followed by two impatient honks of a car horn.

“I’ll get it,” Annie called from the kitchen. 

She wiped her hands and walked towards the front.

“Hey Pea,” Annie said when she opened the door.

Pearline frowned as she laid eyes on Annie. 

“Annie girl, why you ain’t dressed?”

Annie looked at Pearline. Then she looked at the car idling on the street. Then back to her, confused. 

“Dressed for what?”

“Your fittin’ today!”

“Oh my Lord!”

Aunt Della shook her head as Pearline stepped in, watching Annie trip halfway up the stairs.

“How you doin’, Mrs. Clark?”

“Doin’ fine,” Aunt Della responded. “How you?”

“Doin’ mighty fine myself.”

“Glad to hear it.”

Aunt Della put her pen down and looked at Pearline as she stepped further into the front room. She pulled a small drawstring pouch from the pocket of her dress and placed it on her writing desk. 

Pearline took it and quickly stuffed it in her purse. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

“You welcome.”

Aunt Della's eyes flicked down to Pearline’s stomach before she turned back to her pen and paper. 

Twenty minutes later, Pearline and Annie were on their way to Issaquena Street. The ride was quiet, with Pearline staring out the passenger window while her husband drove. Annie sat in the backseat, lips rolled and hands in her lap. 

“I’m so sorry, Mr. George,” Annie said to Pearline’s husband. “It completely slipped my mind.”

Mr. George grunted as the car came to a slow stop in front of the shop. “That’s alright.”

The girls climbed out of the Model T Ford. 

“Pearline?” He called after his wife.

She looked back as she stepped on the curb. “Yes?”

“Six o’clock.”

“Alright.”

The sign for the shop hung overhead as Pearline and Annie inched their way toward the door. As they walked down the steps and down the short, covered walkway to the modiste, Annie’s thoughts drifted to the excitement waiting for them next week.

The Harvest Party.

LUELLA’S DRESSING ROOM & ALTERATIONS

“Smoke gon’ forget his own name when he see you,” Pearline teased Annie. 

Luella smirked, adjusting a corset frame where it was pinned to one of the Dressmakers’ mannequins. 

Annie blushed where she stood barefoot on the platform in front of the three-way mirror, knee-length robe wrapped around her thick frame, long hair braided into a coily crown. 

Sunlight came through the curtains in golden slits, turning the dust motes suspended by the window into glitter. The click of heels and the low hum of sewing machines faded away behind the damask velvet drapes that separated the private alcove from the showroom. It felt cozy back here— like warmth, perfume, and whispers. Gloves, hair combs, purses, and other finishing touches were lined up on a table on the side where the crystal jars filled with candies added to the plush decor. 

Pearline sat on a velvet ottoman, one leg crossed politely over the other. Her gloved hands came together in her lap, her fingers mindlessly playing with the lace trim at her wrist.

“I can’t wait to see it,” she said. She smiled at Annie through the mirror—but it was bittersweet. Pensive. 

Annie’s brows knit together. “What’s wrong?” she mouthed. 

Pearline just shook her head and looked down. Annie tilted her head at her friend.

Just then, Luella’s assistant walked around the corner with a garment bag. She handled it carefully, hanging it on the clothing rack before rolling it from behind the seating area to rest at the side of the viewing platform. “You ready?” 

Annie turned, her face lighting up, but she still watched Pearline carefully out of the corner of her eye. She had a melancholic aura to her even though she tried to cover it with excitement for her friend. Her spine was snapped straight, her legs politely crossed— but something hung in the air between them.

Annie nodded, signaling she was ready. Luella stepped to the clothing rack and unzipped the garment bag as her and assistant removed it from its cover. She gasped when the rich, deep green velvet bodice caught the dim light of the alcove, then hopped off the platform, padding over to the rack.

“Wow,” Pearline stood up in awe. “It’s beautiful, Annie,” she whispered. She ran her gloved fingers down the sides of it, skimming over the delicate beadwork and fringe. 

It was a one-of-a-kind piece, made to stand out and be seen through the low lights and smoke in the juke. 

Luella and her assistant went over accessory ideas with Annie— purses, coats, shoes. Even some hair ideas. They talked to her about pressing her hair and wearing it pinned back into a chignon with a side part. Her excitement grew by the minute until she looked to the side and saw Pearline. The teasing from earlier was gone. Now she was quiet.

Polite.

But barely there.

They finally got to the jewelry options. Lightweight earrings, delicate necklaces, beaded bracelets. Luella held up a thin silver chain for Annie to look at, but Annie almost winced at the idea of wearing anything but her ilekes. She ran her finger over them.

“You can’t wear that necklace with,” she pointed to it, then to the dress on the rack, “that dress!” Luella’s assistant exclaimed.

Luella quietly agreed. “She’s right, sugar.” 

“But, I always wear my beads,” Annie rubbed one, taking a small step back from the accessory table. 

“Every single day?” Pearline asked.

“No,” she shook her head. “Not every day.”

Pearline shrugged. “So you can go one night without ‘em,” she trailed off as a hand reached over to touch them. 

She stopped herself when she saw Annie’s eyes grow wide.

“I can’t touch ‘em?”

Annie shook her head no.

Pearline crossed her arms, putting her weight on one hip. “Why not?” 

“Cuz they blessed.” 

Pearline scrunched her nose up. “What you mean, blessed?”

Annie looked towards the window, then back. “I don’t really know. But my great-grandma told me I can’t let anyone touch ‘em, or she gotta bless ‘em again. And she dead, so...”

“Annie,” Pearline pleaded quietly. Her face relaxed like she recognized this wasn’t a conversation to have here. Not while they were surrounded by pearls and sequins, lace, leather and perfume. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

Luella and her assistant sorted necklaces while they continued their conversation in hushed tones. 

“She gave ‘em to me when I was seven.” 

Pearline’s eyes softened.

“Told me never to take ‘em off.”

“Have you?”

“No,” Annie sighed. “Only on certain days.” 

She exhaled again, her lips curving up into a sly grin. “But I guess I can go without ‘em…for just the night.”

Pearline smiled. 

Luella’s assistant came over and squealed with glee while Luella picked up a long silver necklace with a small diamond pendant that hung like a teardrop in the center.

Luella’s assistant pointed at it. “Annie, what you think ‘bout this one?”

Annie’s eyes lit up, intrigued. “I like it.” Her hands fingered the delicate chain. “A lot.”

She turned to reach over and rub Pearline’s shoulder as Luella and her assistant continued to talk her ear off about her jewelry options. 

“Wanna get a soda after this?” she asked.

“I’d love to.” Pearline couldn’t agree fast enough.

The walk back over to Fourth Street was brisk. Annie and Pearline walked the streets, arms folded across their chests, wool overcoats wrapped tightly around them. 

The sidewalks were even busier today. Despite the unusual cold front that blew into the Delta, most sharecroppers were stuck in limbo waiting on their settlements to come back from the plantation owners. Which means they’d make their way to town looking for some way to entertain themselves.

Besides the cafes and jukes, Fourth Street Drugs was a popular spot. It held a soda fountain on the right side of the store with ice cream, soda, and other fizzy drinks.

Step through the narrow wooden door that separated it from the drugstore and it felt like you were stepping into a different world. 

The space was a haven for young folks—swirling on lacquered stools, sipping sodas, floats, and malts. A polished oval countertop ran along the mirrored wall, a bar-like soda fountain directly in front of it. Ice cream, fruit, and syrups stood in a line up for the soda jerk to easily mix flavors. Light snacks sat in glass displays at each end of the countertop. 

The bell above the shop dinged twice as Annie and Pearline stepped through. 

They made themselves comfortable at the bartop, unwrapping scarves and taking off their hats. Annie ordered an ice cream soda from the soda jerk and Pearline decided on a cherry phosphate over ice. 

They enjoyed the live music— an elderly man in dark blue and black checkered shirt and overalls playing his harmonica and singing. He was tall, dark-skinned, and lanky, but his eyes were warm. His harmonica sat between his hands like a silver smile.

🎵 Don't get mad at me, boys, if your buggy don't ride like mine

I said, don’t get mad at me if your buggy don’t ride like mine

'Cause it's an easy-ridin' buggy, rarin' to go all the time* 🎵

Annie didn't recognize the song, nor the man. But she recognized the sound of that harmonica. The way he bent his notes felt familiar to her, like it was the soundtrack to something special.

The memory hit like a freight train.

Her and Smoke in the backyard after supper.

She barely heard, let alone remembered, anything from that night. Not besides the sound of Smoke’s voice. But she remembered that harmonica playing while they kissed slow under the moonlight.

She instantly got chills.

“That’s my time for today, my name is Delta Slim and I thank ya for listenin’.”

The whole room exploded with applause as Delta Slim slipped from the stage to the backroom. 

Annie watched him disappear down the hallway, then turned to Pearline.

She could tell she was only halfway present.

She tried to be cheerful while sipping her drink, but every time the shop bell rang her eyes would drift towards the entrance. Annie watched her out of the corner of her eye, wiping the corner of her mouth when a drop of ice cream landed on her chin. 

“I can’t go to the party,” Pearline admitted. 

“Why not?”

Pearline sighed. “My husband.” 

Annie’s lips pressed into a straight line. 

Pearline’s husband was an older man. Good bank job. Well-maintained house in a decent part of town. He was respected in the Black community of Coahoma County. 

He was protective over Pearline when it mattered. 

She found it sweet at first. Endearing. 

But that protection started to feel like a suffocating control.

And Pearline was starting to feel like a fish out of water. 

Annie shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. 

Pearline looked down, swirled her drink, and took another sip. 

“He's a good man, Annie,” she said, staring into her cup like that would make it true.

Annie felt skeptical but she was unwilling to push her friend into feeling uncomfortable.

“You happy?”

Pearline took a full minute to answer. 

“Yeah.” 

“Well,” Annie grabbed Pearline’s forearm, stroking her skin. “That’s what matters then...that you happy.”

Pearline gave her a weak smile.

A Few Nights Later — Moon Lake, Mississippi

Smoke and Stack stepped foot into the building, overhead lights so bright they had to blink so their eyes could adjust. It was something Smoke never got used to—the lights. He’d seen the Mississippi sun become a furnace in the sky— but this new, artificial shit? It was stronger. Blinding.

He didn’t like any of it. 

Stack was prepared. He always was when it came to his twin.

He handed Smoke a pair of American Optical aviators that they were fitted for during the war. They had smoked out dark lenses, a thin metal frame, and a double bridge that sat comfortably across his nose.

The twins walked through the casino like men on a mission. Smoke kept his hands in his pockets, but he still met eyes. A bootlegger on a craps table. Another man in a fancy pressed suit, elbows deep in a blackjack game to the right. 

They made their way to the side of the room, shoulders squared, eyes sharp, steps measured, cutting through a maze of fumes, lights, and laughter, until they were standing in front of the walkway that led to the private gaming salons. 

A narrow, low-lit corridor loomed in front of them. Dark green doors stretched down the hallway lined up like little soldiers. The walls were covered with patterned maroon wallpaper that looked like old blood dripping slowly from the panels. Smoke hovered overhead, suspended at the ceiling like a thick, tobacco-filled cloud. Floorboards groaned underneath heels and two-tone spectator shoes while furniture legs groaned under men all looking to play the long game with duffel bags full of cash.

Door 14. The Roulette Room.

Laughter slipped out the open door. 

The room was cozy but not small, decorated to feel expensive with its soft lamplight, burgundy wallpaper, velvet drapes and deep mahogany woodwork. 

A large roulette table flanked by carved wooden chairs with upholstered seats sat in the middle, the dealer leaning over the table with practiced focus. Framed paintings hung high above tall wooden panels, fireplaces, and wall sconces that divided the space. 

The room wasn’t full but wasn’t empty either. 

And most people present weren’t there to play. 

Not really.

Members of Clarksdale’s fraternal lodge were scattered around the room—Pythians with their ceremonial hats and others in regular suits. Smoking, fraternizing, throwing drinks back. Women in sequined dresses, strappy shoes, and pressed waves socialized among them.

Clay stood in the middle, leaning against a fireplace with two fingers of something dark in his hand. Maybe whiskey. Maybe brandy. A crystal glass decanter sat by his elbow. He swished his drink around, taking small sips while he listened to a man speak, voice low under the soft clatter of chips and murmured bets.

It was a white man. Rotund build. Dressed in a white single-breasted suit jacket and trousers, white shirt, and striped bowtie. He had a thick unibrow and mustache, and a hearty laugh that echoed off the walls but a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He didn’t look flashy; he looked comfortable. Too comfortable. 

And that was just from a distance. 

Smoke’s lip curled up instantly. 

Stack elbowed him in the arm when he saw the raw expression on his brother’s face. 

“Chill out, nigga.” 

Smoke grunted.

When Clay saw the twins across the room, he didn’t flinch. He just waved them over, setting his glass down on the mantle.

They split up like they always did when they first entered a space, Smoke rounding left, Stack circling right. 

It was part of their routine. A twin language developed from survival and war. 

They didn’t discuss it. They didn’t need to. 

They orbited the room. The movement looked casual, but they were quietly filing away every detail. Every glance meant suspicion, calculation, or warning. Nerves that had nothing to do with gambling. Shifty eyes. Hidden weapons. 

Smoke was the quicker draw of the two, and he always rolled deep. Two pistols. Bolo knife. Always tucked away but easily accessible.

Stack was slower to draw but had a way of disguising danger as charm before anybody realized it was danger. He kept a colt .45 and a brass knuckle knife hidden seamlessly in his clothing.

When they reached Clay, he already had two cigars cut for them. 

“Jim—” he said with a wide grin. “These the two gentlemen I was tellin’ you ‘bout earlier.” 

“Ah, the twins!” this Jim character said. 

He tapped ash from his own cigar on a lacquered tray and looked between Smoke and Stack who flanked him—one twin on each side.

“You fellas ever think about comin’ up North?” 

Stack answered. “We been up North.”

“Where to?”

“Harlem.”

“New York...What about Illinois? Arkansas?”

Smoke spoke up. “Arkansas ain’t up north.” 

“I know,” Jim replied.

“So why you askin’?” he asked flatly.

Jim shrugged. “Just curious.”

“Nah.” Smoke turned his head. “We don't go up North much.”

“But it depend on who askin’,” Stack added. 

Both twins looked at Jim.

Smoke with his head tilted downwards and his hooded eyes that could look up through a man and pierce his soul. 

Stack stood with his head tilted up so he was always looking down at someone, eyes twinkling, smirk wide, golds flashing.

Jim chuckled once, amused. At least on the surface. 

The ice in Stack’s cup tapped against the glass as it melted, sitting completely untouched in front of him. Smoke had already smoked his cigar down to the nub and sat with his elbows on his knees. 

Jim and his posse were long gone by now. 

Smoke, Stack, Clay and two of Clay’s men sat around a small round table that was polished to a shine that caught the lamplight in amber streaks. They talked routes, distribution, provisions, collections, hidden shipments, payoffs. 

Stack’s eyes sparkled every time someone mentioned Little Rock or Chicago. 

Smoke’s eyes held an unimpressed dullness even under the golden pools of lamplight.

Clay noticed, his eyes flicking between the two of them, subtly eyeing the difference in demeanor. 

“What you think?” Stack whispered to Smoke.

Smoke frowned then leaned over. “‘Bout what?”

“Big Jim.”

“I ain’t.”

Stack sucked his teeth loudly which earned a stare from Smoke.

Stack grumbled under his breath. 

“Shut up, nigga” Smoke gritted. 

“Just think about it,” Stack pushed. “Me. You. And Little Rock.”

Stack finally picked up his drink and took a swig. “You can bring Annie, too.”

Smoke just shook his head. Leaving Clarksdale was the last thing he was thinking about. 

The casino carried on in the background. Jazz, smoke, and the sweet-sharp smell of corn liquor spilled from the large double doors every time a patron stepped out. 

Smoke stood outside, the orange ember of his cigarette burning bright behind his palm. 

He didn’t come outside for quiet. The casino wasn’t quiet. Moon Lake never was. 

He stood at the dock and took a long drag of tobacco. It burned his chest. The cherry, spice, and the faint trace of lake humidity calmed the dull throb of a headache that sat behind his skull. 

“People done carved out every corner of Chicago. Whole lotta money there. But Arkansas….” 

Big Jim’s words echoed in his head. 

And Stack’s. 

He was always hyped about something. A scheme, a trick, a scam. 

And Smoke would always be caught up right along with him. 

But this one—

“Know a couple call houses in Little Rock need fixin’ up,” Big Jim said between puffs. 

A member of his posse, another white man with olive skin, a stocky build and a scar on his left cheek spoke up next.

“Bathhouse in Hot Springs. Y’all would do good up there, too.” He took a swig of his whiskey. “Real good.”

Smoke pushed the thoughts away before they could take root in his mind.

His thoughts turned to Annie instead.

To the confession she made.

The thought he filed away for later resurfaced while he looked out at the water. Night blanketed the cypress trees and the shores and the forest beyond it while the twinkling lights of the Moon Lake island helped soften its edges. 

Annie never shrank herself or made herself smaller for other people’s comfort. That’s one thing Smoke noticed the most about her. She was like him in that way. 

But something was different about the look on her face when she said those three words.

I ain’t never…

She looked vulnerable. Timid almost. 

His chest tightened at the thought. 

Something flickered in her eyes that night, just for a second before it disappeared. 

It wasn’t from the moonlight, from the candle on the windowsill, or from the oil lamp that hung above them on the shed.

It was deeper than that.

It was fear.

Fear of how he’d take it. Fear it would change his mind about her. 

He could see it in how she rushed to cling onto something. The loose thread on his shirt, something in the backyard. 

She showed him a part of herself. A part nobody else got to see. 

She gave that to him. 

And for just a second, she was scared of what he’d do with it.

Smoke’s jaw clenched.

He never wanted her to feel like that. He never wanted to be the reason she felt like that. Not again. 

Because that softness, the most tender part of her that she revealed to him in a whisper, barely a breath—that was his to protect now. 

Reeds danced with the current as it drifted downriver. The blades flitted across each other in the breeze, the low, whispery rustle felt gentle and soothing compared to the harsh sounds of the casino.

It felt like Annie.

Her scent arrived like a memory carried over water.

The lake carried the smell of some woman’s perfume. Smoke wouldn’t have noticed it, but the smell of lavender carried something sharper underneath that made his head snap around. 

Night-blooming jasmine. 

That sun-drenched, heady lushness that lingered on Annie’s wrists, behind her ears, and on her necklaces. 

That combined with the smell of something brackish made him feel like she was standing in front of him, those soft arms wrapped around his neck while his head tucked into her chest smelling like a midnight garden.

It cut through the harshness of the casino. The haze, the booze, the sweat. 

Moon Lake smelled like vice and pressure.

Annie was the opposite of all of that. 

While moonlight turned lake waters into glass, Smoke closed his eyes and made a decision.

Then another one.

He showed up at Della’s a few days later when the house had lulled into its afternoon pace.

“Got somewhere I wanna take you.” 

Those were the only words Smoke muttered before he whisked Annie out of the boarding house and into his truck. He wouldn’t tell Annie where they were going. All she knew was that they were heading north, the sun just starting its slow descent to the left of the road. 

The fields were empty this time of the year, of both people and cotton. The bare stalks stood tall and rigid like silent witnesses.

“I got a letter from my folks back home,” Annie said, looking out the window.

Smoke kept his eyes forward. “What they say?”

“Everybody doin’ good.”

“Good.”

Annie went on, talking Smoke up about her nieces and nephews, cousins, aunts and uncles. By the time she stopped to catch her breath, she was beaming with pride. Smoke listened to her talk with a lopsided grin of admiration. Then she started talking about her immediate family. Her mama. Her daddy. Her brothers. Her words got slower. Her breath hitched a few times like she was choosing her words carefully. 

Smoke noticed and started probing.

“Your mama a midwife, right? And your daddy—he work at the docks?”

“He a fisherman. You remembered.” She grinned and relaxed a little bit.

“How your brothers be?”

Annie tensed. “They good,” she said quickly.

“Hmm. And what they do?”

She rattled off five different occupations, but he knew she had six brothers. She told him. 

Annie was her parent’s seventh child.

He waited for her to fill in the blanks, but she didn’t. She just stared out the window like she was holding her breath.

“What was his name?” he asked.

Annie looked down at her hands. They were fidgeting again, playing with the hem of her clothing. She had on a tan-colored shirtwaist dress that complimented the rich brown color of her skin. It sat underneath a grey overcoat made from a light material. 

Mississippi weather was mild that day, a nice break from the cold front they experienced the past few weeks. 

Stockings and oxfords completed her look, and a cloche hat with a cream-colored ribbon was pinned onto her low bun.

The cab of the truck was silent for a while as the wheels rolled over loose gravel. But after a few more moments, Annie finally let out the breath she’d been holding.

“Uriah,” she said quietly. “His name was–is–Uriah.”

Smoke’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. “What happened to ‘em?”

“The war.”

“I’m sorry.”

Annie looked towards the road again. “Ain’t your fault.”

“Still.” He looked over at her briefly. “Y’all were close?”

“The closest.”

Smoke’s hand grabbed hers in her lap. She took a moment to rub the skin of his hands, his calloused palms warm around hers.

The road in front of them narrowed slightly. They crossed a bridge, the packed dirt turning into dusty brickwork as they traversed the water. 

The sun was beginning to wane, writing its farewell letter in shades of orange and purple as it disappeared behind the trees. 

On the other side of the bridge sat Moon Lake Island. 

A twenty-four-hour haven of whimsy, seduction, and leisure. Hanging lights glittered like fireflies, their bulbs blinking rapidly like they were dying out. That was on purpose.

It was just a bridge away from Lula, but it felt miles away—a sharp contrast to the cotton fields and the back of plantation houses that sat just across a small stretch of water. 

A supper club and casino stood like landmarks on the north island. The Blue Room was a pleasure palace that fronted as a place to enjoy oysters and prime cuts of steak at all hours of the night, and the Moon Lake Casino was its younger, slick-talking brother. 

The Black Elk Lodge was a hotel that stretched across the entire span of the southern island, wide and proud like the hand of a giant. Small lake front cabins scattered along the shore surrounding the courtyard hotel, a place where the whole world could go quiet.

Smoke cut the engine. He kept a hand on the small of her back, the other hand holding onto a covered basket as he guided Annie to the small private dock where he’d rented a rowboat from the lodge. He tugged the fraying rope that moored it to the shore, pulling it up so it sat halfway on the bank.

The inside was a tight fit, but dry. It was deep, lined with fragments of mismatched, aged wood where he set the basket of food in the middle of the two benches. Smoke helped Annie inside, unleashing the boat while he took the oars in his hand. 

His muscles moved beneath rolled sleeves while he rowed them away from the shore. He grunted under his breath as he stroked, moving his arms back and forth until their boat was dislodged from the thick mud on the shore. It glided smoothly into the water.

Annie’s thoughts were a tangled web. She smoothed her skirt down and crossed her legs, staring at the lake surrounding them to avert her eyes from the way his muscles clung to his shirt. A cool gust of wind swept over their boat drying the small bead of sweat that had started to form at her temple.

The lakefront cabins of The Black Elk Lodge lined the shore behind them. Small, wooden cabins with hanging lanterns, flower boxes on the porch, and warm orange light in the windows. 

Sounds from the island started to fade as they rowed into a thinner stretch of the lake. Ancient trees stood tall like ancestors along the shore. Spanish moss hung overhead like lace curtains, turning the sun into little slivers of bronze light that spotted the forest floor.

“Pretty out here,” Annie remarked quietly.

She trailed her fingers along the water. It rippled and separated under her touch into gentle waves that sloshed along the side of the boat.

“Yeah it is,” Smoke agreed. 

But he wasn’t talking about the lake. He was talking about her.

He couldn’t stop looking at her. 

The colors of dusk shimmered on the water catching the contours of Annie’s skin that looked lit from within. Her cheekbones, full lips, button nose, doe eyes. She unpinned her hat and released her bun once they got further from the shore. Her hair—dark, thick and coiled down her back—caught the light in deep blue streaks that shimmered against the jewel-toned sky. She looked ethereal. Sunset made her beads glow against her skin; the multi-colored necklaces sat tucked gracefully under the neckline of her dress.

“You gon’ burn a hole in me, Elijah,” Annie said, eyes trained on the rippling water around their boat.

Smoke smirked.

“Just thinkin’ about how pretty you look right now.”

Annie huffed a laugh. “Just right now?”

“Nah,” Smoke chuckled. “You always beautiful…but you glowin’ different right now.” 

“Why, thank you.”

Just then, the sun cut sharply, burning into her eyes. Her entire iris flooded with a deep bronze color just long enough for it to make Smoke blink twice. 

“What?” 

Smoke shook his head. “Nothin’.” But something about the evening sky and the water bleeding into each other had him feeling like he was seeing something that wasn’t really there.

“You hungry?” he asked.

Their picnic basket was lined with sheer fabric and made of handwoven old reed with a handle covered in spiral carvings. It carried a couple baloney sandwiches with mustard, mason jars with sweet tea, and a brown paper bag filled with boiled peanuts rolled in honey and brown sugar. 

“‘Could use somethin’ sweet.”

Smoke uncovered the basket. Annie removed the paper bag from it and inhaled its sugary scent. She reached in and popped a peanut in her mouth. “Want one?”

Smoke looked at her like she should already know that answer.

Annie smiled. “You know–I never thought someone like you would be a sweet tooth.”

“Why not?”

“‘Cause you walk around like you eat straight salt for dinner.”

Smoke sucked his teeth and looked away.

Annie laughed lightly. “You know it’s true.”

Smoke looked back at her. “It ain’t.”

“Here.”

She put a peanut in her hand, holding it up to his lips as he held onto the oars. It went in easily, his lips leaving moist heat on her fingertips that went through her body in waves. 

Smoke hummed at the salty, sweet taste. “Mmmm.” The echo of his voice vibrated deep in her body. “That’s good.”

“You like it?” Annie teased with a sultry voice.

Smoke raised a brow as he set the oars in the boat. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

Smoke looked down at the peanut she had ready in her palm and leaned towards her anyways. He parted his mouth just enough. His lips touched her fingers again this time, his tongue licking through the opening of her fingertips as he took the candied peanut in his mouth. He licked his lips when he pulled back, eyes on her.

“Trouble.” 

“Me?” she snickered. She clutched her chest, taunting. “You the one tryna swallow my fingers.”

The air outside felt thicker over the water. The sky grew darker now, the brightness of the day dimming to something that looked like the glow of a low-burning oil lamp spread across the sky. Annie tossed the bag of peanuts back in the basket and screwed the cap off her mason jar of tea, taking a nervous sip.

“You come out here often?” she asked.

Smoke shrugged. “From time to time.”

“For what?”

Her eyes drifted to a pair of wood storks nested together along the bank. It was lined in reeds, soft mud, and the thick, tangled network of cypress roots that reached like fingers into the water. Annie thought it looked like the kind of place old spirits preferred. Somewhere quiet enough to listen and deep enough to hold secrets. Smoke favored that part too—the quiet, the shade, the way the trees swallowed noise and gave a man room to think.

“To quiet what won’t settle anywhere else.”

Annie turned to look at Smoke. This wasn't just a date.

“Thank you for showin' me this place,” she said. “Your place.”

She leaned in and he met her halfway.

The front room was dim. 

Not because he was trying to set the mood, but because he only had the patience to light two candles. The soft light brushed the walls, the flames coaxing shadows into a slow dance. Outside, the night breathed in low drones. An owl hooted somewhere—a deep, resonant sound that echoed through the trees. The wind fluttered through fallen leaves and whispered secrets through branches. But inside, the living room of Smoke and Stack's home held a calm, comfortable level of domesticity despite the hum of outdoors.

Smoke and Annie sat next to each other on the couch in Smoke’s house. Annie played a crossword puzzle from the Chicago Whip, stretched sideways across the couch with her feet in Smoke’s lap. Smoke had his hands on her feet as they went back and forth about the answers. 

“What’s a three-letter word for a four-legged animal with spots?”

“A cow,” Smoke said easily.

“No, that don’t fit my crossword.”

“What? Lemme see that…”

Smoke reached for the newspaper, but Annie moved it away from his grasp.

“It's a dog.”

“It could be a cat, too…since we just sayin’ shit.”

Annie swatted him with the newspaper.

“What was that for?”

“For bein' a smart ass.”

Annie set the newspaper down.

“Givin' up already?”

She shot him a look that could have cut through glass. “I’m tired.” She propped her head up with her hand.

Smoke started to push off the couch. “You ready to go back?”

“No,” her hand shot out, “not yet,” she said softer.

Smoke sat back.

Annie tugged on his arm, and he followed her pull as she brought him towards her. Slowly.

Not because he was scared.

He hadn’t been scared since he was a child.

But because he cared.

He laid down behind her, his front pressing against her back, and automatically wrapped an arm around her waist. His hold on her was tight, possessive. 

And Annie loved it.

She stroked his hand with her fingertips. It sat just above her bellybutton with a firm grip.

She melted into him.

He kissed the back of her shoulders first.

Light, delicate pecks that left warmth on her skin.

His lips moved to her neck and the kisses lingered longer, his arm tightening around her waist. He heard her gasps, her short panting breaths, and decided to keep going.

And Annie could feel everything. 

His kisses became closer together. 

Somehow, her hand lifted to the back of his head pulling him closer to her. 

She finally let out a word that wrecked him.

“Elijah,” she gasped.

Smoke chuckled, the sound forced a breath onto the delicate spot just behind her ear, and he heard something from her he never heard before.

A sharp, sudden intake of breath.

It was nothing like the noise she let out when he kissed her the other day. This one was quick, unexpected, new. It made her eyes widen.

It made her roll her hips once. The friction was there for a second and gone just as fast, but it pulled a low groan from him.

She laced their hands together and turned, just slightly. The movement pulled her under him.

Their faces met first.

They looked into each other’s eyes and rubbed noses. 

“Damn,” Smoke whispered. “You so beautiful.”

He leaned forward and their lips met gently. The kiss quickly turned passionate, their hunger urgent and palpable. Annie’s back pressed into Smoke’s front, and she could feel him behind her, hard and growing and right there.

Between the breaths and the pants and the tongues and the lips, he pulled back from her a second. Smoke looked down at her kiss-bruised lips and her blown pupils, and the want written all over her face.

They were so wrapped up in each other that he almost missed the sound of a car turning onto the dirt path that led to their home.

Almost.

But the soldier in him never knew a full night's rest.

Smoke’s head turned towards the door out of instinct. He listened carefully, then heard it clearly.

The rumble of an engine. 

Wheels erratically crunching over dirt.

Stack.

Smoke looked at Annie who had stilled under him, trying to figure out why he stopped.

“He's back.”

Annie paused for a second, then exhaled sharply and swung her legs over the side of the couch. She stood up slowly, smoothing the fabric of her dress along her hips as the adrenaline started to fade and annoyance started to set in. She walked over to the mirror to check her hair which had become a mass of crushed kinks, coils, and curls, and tried to tame it back into place even though she herself was completely undone.

Smoke sat on the couch, just staring at the floor.

He rubbed a hand down his face.

He couldn’t help but feel like Stack picked this very moment to come back—on purpose. He checked the Elgin watch on his wrist, 9:30pm. Stack never came in this early— not on the weekend anyway. 

Doors opened and closed in succession. Car door first. The snap of twigs and the crunch of polished shoes over solid earth next. Then the screen door creaked open and the bolt on the front door unlatched.

Stack walked in the house completely aware of what had just transpired, but he knew better. He was well versed in reading a room.

He noticed the way Smoke was sitting. Noticed how he was staring at the back of Annie who was fixing her hair in the mirror. He saw the pillows on the couch that look just as deflated as his brother.

He looked between them and his smirk spread slow and smug on his face. 

“Well good evenin’,” he announced, his voice cutting through their quiet tension.

Annie looked over from the other side of the room. “Evenin’,” she said warmly, putting the last of her pins in her hair.

Smoke didn’t respond. He pinched the bridge of his nose and pushed off the couch. 

“Annie,” he said to get her attention. She turned around as he stood up to grab his coat and car keys. “Let’s get to gettin’.”

Stack crossed the room and sat right on the couch. He got comfortable, putting an ankle on his knee before pulling a small notebook from his pocket.  “Leavin’ so soon?” 

He looked at Smoke, then Annie, then back to Smoke. 

“It’s gettin’ late,” Smoke grumbled. He grabbed Annie’s hand and held the door wide as she slipped underneath his arm. 

“Bye, Elias!” Annie said as she practically skipped to Smoke’s truck with Smoke’s gaze following right behind her. 

“Bye, Annie!” Stack yelled after her. “Bye, Elijah,” he said to Smoke in a slower, more teasing manner. 

Smoke rolled his eyes and grunted as he walked down the steps to his truck. He opened the door for Annie who hustled into the passenger seat. Smoke shut her door carefully then rounded the front to the driver’s side. Once he got in, he let the quiet sit for a second before adjusting himself in his seat.

Annie pretended she didn’t see it, but her face, half shadowed in darkness and the light from the front room of the cottage, betrayed her. She looked out the window smiling as the engine started with a rattle and sputter of the exhaust pipe. 

The drive back to Aunt Della’s boarding house was quiet. Moonlight flooded the cab of the truck, highlighting the contours of Smoke's face—his eyelashes, his lips, his mustache all bathed in a pale, lunar glow. His hand rested on her thigh, holding firmly onto the supple flesh. Annie traced along the veins of his hand with her fingertips before laying her palm on top of his.

“I had a good time tonight,” she said after about a mile of silence.

“You did?” 

“Yeah, I did.”

“Good,” he said quietly. 

The stars sprinkled tiny silver blessings above them as they made their way to the boarding house, the occasional animal darting in the road, drawn like a moth to a flame to his headlights. Smoke and Annie laced their fingers together as the road to town stretched in front of them. 

-

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*Song by Bud Spires

<- Chapter 8

-> Masterlist

Note: Sorry this took so long to post. I was lowkey scared. 😂 But on another note— The Harvest Party is coming up next!