It always started with noise. Summer in Mississippi wasn’t just heat and humidity—it was loud. Between the swatting screen doors, the bugs flying, kids playing double dutch with mismatched ropes, and the rickety hum of box fans, it was hard to hear yourself think. But for young Juicy, the noise was a comfort… until it wasn’t.

Back in ‘95, Juicy was about eleven, braces still fresh, glasses sliding down her nose every five minutes, and dressed in a floral pattered dress that matches her sisters, though hers fit her more boxier than it did on the older girl. But she didn’t care much about appearances, and it didn’t help that her mama always compared her to her older sister, Sinclair, thin and pretty like the girls in those Jet beauty ads or the ones on the perm boxes. “If only you laid off them pork chops,” was her mama’s idea of encouragement. Her daddy didn’t say much at all.

Juicy found her peace elsewhere—mainly across the street.

The Moore twins, Elias and Elijah—known as Smoke and Stack to others—were about six years older, fast-mouthed, sharp-eyed boys sly grins and problems they never spoke too loudly about. Their father was known around the neighborhood for being the kind of man who left bruises instead of blessings, and their mother was long gone. But the Hall’s took to them like family. Martin, Juicy’s older brother, clicked with them right away over cassette tapes and corner store hustles. Sinclair even crushed on Stack for a while, though he never acted on it.

But it was Juicy—a little awkward, big-bodied, and always scribbling in her notebook—who lingered in the background. She wasn’t really friends with the boys, not like her siblings were. But some days, when things were too loud at her house and Mary, her only friend, couldn’t come out, Smoke would let her sit on the porch with them, passing her a freeze cup and tossing her lazy jokes that made her laugh until her gums showed. Or when Stack would let her old onto him as she rode on back of his bike as he made stops around the neighborhood.

Those little moments were enough. They made her feel seen.

And then, they were gone. Moved up to Chicago when she was fifteen, chasing something bigger—money, maybe, or just a way out. Life moved on. And the city was still as loud as ever.

But in 2003, the block got loud again in their return.

They came back in a long black Lincoln, rolling slow like they owned the pavement. Elias drove, toothpick between his teeth, silver chains glinting in the sun as she rubbed down his waves. Elijah was in the passenger seat, shades low on his nose, hair in tight cornrows. They’d filled out—solid, broad-shouldered men now, still dressed in dark clothes with just enough shine to show they had money. Word spread fast.

Smoke and Stack were home.

First stop was the gas station—for fuel and the liquor store next to it, then the old park where half the benches were gone and the other half were tagged up in Sharpie and knife scratches, looking for their homeboy in his usual spot. A few heads turned, so they dapped up old friends, nodded at familiar faces.

But the real reunion happened on Vernon Street.

Martin Hall was leaned up against his Impala, blunt behind his ear, gold ring glinting. He caught sight of the car before it even parked at the house across the street, and when he caught sight of the men in the car, he instantly grinned.

“Nahhh, I know this ain’t who I think it is.” He shouted, arms already wide open.

Stack stepped out first, grinning, and then Smoke followed. The three embraced like no time had passed at all, Martin falling the men up. Loud laughs, back slaps, the kind of reunion that made neighbors peek through blinds.

“Man, what the hell are yall doing back? And ain’t told a nigga?” Marin asked as he leaned backed against his hood, taking the blunt his girlfriend passed him from her place in his serving seat.

“It was quick to us too, man.” Smoke said, shaking his head a bit. “Them Chiraq niggas different, too much shit going on up there.” He said, placing his hands in the pockets of his black hoodie, his baggy white tee hanging from underneath a bit.

“Money was good, though.” Stack smirked, moving his gaze away from the woman in the car that was eyeing him with a lustful glint in her, to look at the against the hood.

“I bet.” Martin smirked. “I could only imagine what you niggas got up to up there. Especially to come back as fly as that.” He said, nodding over to the cars in front of the boys old home as he blew away the smoke from the blunt.

“Shit, us?” Stack questioned. “Look at you. The jewelry, new whip. Seems money down here moving smooth.”

“Mmm…it’s aight.” Martin shrugged, causing the twins to chuckle with a shake of their heads.

“You know we gotta celebrate.”Martin said, standing from the car a bit as he handed the blunt to his shorty in the car. “Whole block been a bit dry without y’all. Let me throw something together for tonight.” He suggested. “Plus, I gotta clean some paper anyway.” He shrugged, trying to ease the blow of an unexpected gathering upon the men.

Smoke and Stack exchanged a glance before both men looked back at their old friend and shrugged Martin clapped his hands with a smirk. “Aight.” He nodded. “Tracy, go call yo homegirls and shit, tell ‘em to come through while I get shit situated.” He said to the girl in his drivers seat. Tracy didn’t even say anything, she simply got out the car and made her at into the house, bit before making a bit of a show of pulling down her booty shorts. Stack and Smoke exchanged another look at that, but nothing was said further.

Plans were made fast. A block party. Speakers, coolers, grills were pulled out faster than the men could think. Now they just had to get everything jumpin’.

The men sat around Martin’s car catching up, reminiscing on old scams, and laughing at things they never got caught for. Smoke lit a cigarette while Stack leaned back, tapping his fingers on the dashboard.

That’s when they saw her.

Juicy.

She came walking up the sidewalk with Mary next to her, both of them laughing at something too far to hear. Juicy was still thick, but this time, she wore it like armor. Curves hugged up in a baby pink Juicy Couture set, midriff peeking under the hoodie. Her wedged flip flops clicked against the concrete with purpose. Her acrylics—French tips—glinted when she lifted her lollipop to her lips. Lips lined and glossy, brown skin smooth and glowing, gold hoops in her ears catching sun. Her sunglasses were perched on her head, the blonde highlighted tresses in a bun, looking like it just came out of a fresh roller set. It was only when she got closer that they could see that she still had the tiniest gap when she smiled, but now it looked like part of the charm.

Mary had her own vibe—low-rise jeans, rhinestone tank and a high pony—but no one was looking at her. Not the twins at least.

It was Juicy who had the street paused.

Smoke sat up a little straighter. Stack cocked his head. “Lil’ Juicy?” He mumbled.

And just like that, the heat of Mississippi summer wasn’t the loudest thing on the block anymore.

The heat clung to the air, and the bass from someone’s backyard radio pulsed low in the distance. Juicy walked like she owned the sidewalk, hips swaying in perfect rhythm with the click of her heels. She was curvy in all the right places—thicker than the girls on TV, but built with softness and strength that couldn’t be ignored.

Smoke and Stack hadn’t said a word yet. They’d gone still the second they saw her. Not obviously—nothing as sloppy as ogling—but they noticed everything. The gloss, the tips, the squinting, whenever from the sun or her needing her prescription. They both could remember how they used to slide down her nose every few seconds.

She no longer looked like the quiet girl who used to sit on the porch with a notebook. She looked like a woman now. A whole one.

Martin lifted a hand. “Juice! Come say what’s up.” He called out, waving the girl over.

Juicy raised a brow as she stopped at the curb, Mary lingering just behind her. “You actin’ like I don’t live here.”he caused, causing Martin to smack his lips. “You know what I mean.”

Juicy clocked the twins as soon as she approached. But her eyes didn’t widen, she didn’t blink. She just popped that lollipop out her mouth slow, head tilted, and said—

“Well, well. Look who finally came home.” All soft like.

Smoke stepped forward, arms crossed, head tilted just slightly. “Ain’t seen you in years, Juicy.” He said, voice a little lower than usual.

Stack nodded. “You done grown all up now.” He said, his eyes subconsciously giving the girl before him a quick once over, one that had him wanting to trace his eyes over her body again.

Juicy didn’t blush—she never did. She just looked between them, slow and deliberate, then popped the lollipop from her mouth and smiled, tiny gap and all. “Y’all look the same.” She said, though they really didn’t. “Maybe taller. Maybe.” She shrugged, not hiding the way she analyzed the men from head to toe, taking in their otherwise plain street wear, which she knew had to still be a decent penny for.

Martin chuckled. “They back for good. Figured I’d throw a little somethin’ tonight. Let the block know.”

Juicy nodded, barely glancing back at the twins. “That’s cute. I’ll see what’s up.” Then to Mary, “Come on.”

She turned without another word, strutting toward the house, and the two men made it their mission to not look at the rhinestones bedazzled on her booty, reading ‘Juicy’ across the span of the area. Mary, however, lingered just a second longer. Her eyes locked on Stack like she was sizing him up for dessert. No shame at all. She flashed a grin that was all teeth and trouble before jogging up the steps behind Juicy.

When they were gone, Martin lit his blunt, shaking his head. “Y’all look like you saw a ghost.” He said as he blew the smoke out. “Was it Mary? Yeah, I know, still freaks me out a bit to see her down here.” He added, not even waiting for an explanation from them.

Smoke leaned against the hood, eyes still on the porch. “Nah.” He muttered, voice tight. “Yeah, you right. Just didn’t expect that.” He said, though he was simply agreeing to save face.

A few minutes later, it seemed as though this party was about to take off as people began to show up, their drinks of chose and blunts in their clutches. This made Martin head inside to grab more beers while the twins stayed posted at the car, quiet now that the noise of the street settled down.

It was silent between them for a bit before Stack spoke up, not even looking at his brother. “Juicy is far from the girl we left them heard back.” Stack said, rubbing the back of his neck, internally questioning himself over the quick flashes of ‘not so pure’ thoughts he had about the girl he grew up with.

“Yeah.” Smoke replied. “She is.”

They didn’t say anything else for a moment, both thinking the same thing—how time had a funny way of flipping the script. How the girl who used to scribble doodles on everything and watch them from the corner of the porch now walked like she didn’t owe anybody her attention.

Smoke remembered the way she used to listen when he talked—really listen—without judgment or noise. How he used to feel stupid for sharing some of his serpent moments with someone so young. How at first he just needed her for an ear, and she levered that, and when he needed some answers, she was quick to help as well. And she had those same eyes. Soft but knowing. That hadn’t changed.

Stack was still thinking about her walk. The way she didn’t give them a second glance, like she’d seen men like them a thousand times. It didn’t bruise his ego—it just made him curious.

“And I peep she’s got a smart mouth on her now.” He finally said, half a smile on his lips.

Smoke nodded, but his gaze didn’t leave the front door. “Yeah.” He muttered, and that’s all he seemed to be able to say, as if she had rendered him speechless.

Stack’s smirked widen, longing his lips as a thought crossed his mind.

“Wonder who she’s lettin’ have it.”

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The block party on Vernon Street was in full swing, the air thick with the scent of grilled meats and the rhythmic beats of early hip-hop. Laughter and chatter filled the neighborhood as families and friends gathered to celebrate the return of Smoke and Stack, most just wanting an excuse to party. Children darted between adults, their laughter mingling with the music, while the adults swayed to the nostalgic tunes.

Smoke and Stack moved through the crowd, exchanging handshakes and hugs with familiar faces. Their presence was magnetic, and others could tell the difference from when the boys first left. They were men now, and were drawing attention from all corners of the block. As they approached the cooler, a familiar voice called out.

“Well, if it ain’t the Moore twins.” Sinclair said, her smile as bright as ever. She wore an orange halter top that popped against her brown skin, low-rise jeans, with her hair styled in loose curls that framed her face.

“Sinclair!” Stack exclaimed, pulling her into a warm embrace. “How you doing, girl?”

“Oh, I’m as good a can be.” She smiled, pulling away from the embrace and looking up at him. “Y’all still causing trouble?” She teased, her eyes twinkling at the two as she crossed her arms.

“Only the good kind,” Smoke replied with a grin.

“Pleased there was never a good kind with y’all.” She quipped. “Good for you, maybe.”

“That’s what we meant.” Stack stated before laughing, causing the girl to laugh and smack his arm. Their laughter died down into fond smiles and soft gazes, Elias and Sinclair eyeing each other in particular. Smoke looked between the two, before he let his eyes drift as he felt the conversation about to shift.

“How you been, Claire?” Stack asked, leaning against the fence near the cooler, while Smoke sat on a milk crate, next to some men shooting dice. Sinclair let out a small a sigh, putting her hands in the back pockets of her right jeans, looking anywhere else but his eyes. “Nothing much.” She shrugged, but from the nervous laugh she let out at the ends and the way she divided eye contact let Stack know she was t telling the full truth. “I mean, if you can count having a baby as nothing.” She’s shrugged.

Stack eyes widened a bit at that, blinking as he looked at the girl before him. “A baby?” He asked, and his voice was a bit soft, low, as if the subject was something fragile and foreign to him. His heart then pinged in his chest, a sharp and quick thump, before it dropped to his stomach.

And he couldn’t help but wonder if this was her way of telling him he had a child after their one close encounter the night before him and Smoke is and left the Sip.

When Sinclair nodded, he licked his lips, reading his stance of the fence to stand straight, looking down at the girl. “Damn, that’s crazy Claire.” He said, keeping a calm demeanor in the face of his slight panic. “When did this happen?” He asked.

“About a year after you guys bounded, freshman year at college.” She explained, and Stack could almost drop to his knees and praise the sky at her words. He gulped as he blinked, trying to calm his heart that was still seating from the potential bond she could’ve dropped. But that was all covered up with a simple nod.

“Boy or girl?”

“Boy. His names Tyson.” She said, and now this time, Stack could be more happy for the girl, a small smile drifting onto his face. “That’s crazy, Claire. Congratulations.” He said, placing a hand on her shoulder and shaking her.

“Thank you.” Sinclair said softly, a small smile on her lips. “Now enough about me, tell me what you were up to in Chicago, big money.” She quipped, smiling up at him, looking up at him through her lashes, and that was a look Stack was not unfamiliar with. Which caused him to smirk as he leaned back into the fence.

They continued to chat amiably, reminiscing about old times and catching up on the years that had passed. Sinclair’s laughter rang out as she recounted a particularly embarrassing story from their youth, causing Stack to chuckle and shake his head.

As the conversation continued, Juicy and Mary emerged from the Hall home, their presence immediately drawing attention. Juicy’s black halter top with white lace detailing accentuated her curves, and her dark wash Baby Phat jeans hugged her hips perfectly. Her French tip toes stuck out from her black wedges that added to her height and her voluptuous shape, as well as the boot cut pants. Her stomach pudge peeked out confidently, adorned with a gleaming belly ring. Her dyed blonde highlighted curls cascaded down to her neck in a fluffy blowout, catching the light as they moved. Mary, equally stylish, wore a sequined butterfly top and low-rise jeans, her hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail.

They lingered by the porch, surveying the lively scene before them. Juicy’s eyes scanned the crowd, landing briefly on the twins before she turned to Mary.

“I’m gonna grab a drink and talk to Sinclair.” She said, her voice casual. “Kk.” Mary said, her eyes already on someone in the crowed that she seemed to want to sink her teeth in.

As Juicy approached the cooler, one of Martin’s friends couldn’t help but stare. The men were sat at a table, and his eyes caught the perfect view of a tattoo on the side of her hip. His gaze lingered for a moment too long, getting distracted from the game of spades. Martin noticed and frowned, turning to his sister.

“Man, go in the house and put some clothes on.” He said, his tone disapproving as she waved the girl over to the crib.

Juicy looked over at him after she picked up a peach Faygo from the cold ice waterz her face was frowned before she rolled her eyes at him, unbothered. “Boy, shut up.” She scoffed.

“I’m serious, Ju. You out here dressed like you grown or some.”

“I am grown, nigga.” She hissed, placing her free hand on her hip as she looked down at man with a deck of cards in his hands in a baggy black T-Shirt.

“Yeah, whatever. You just want attention.” He said, shaking his head before going back to the game, placing a card down on the table. Juicy turned her lip up at him, her eyes doing a quick survey of the men at the table and about. “I don’t want nothing from any of these bums out here you call a homeboy or whoever the fuck else. I came here to speak to Sinclair about Me and Mary going to Dwight’s later.” She snapped at him, her lip still turned up at him as she moved her hands as she talked, her manicured pointer finger grazing over the group of men. Some of the guys around that heard her let out their own sounds of discontent, but nothing crazy since her brother was sitting right next to her. And it seemed that Stack and Smoke were the only ones not bothered by the girls words, Smoke’s eyes dragging over her figure as he tipped his head back to drink his grape soda. Stack looked over at her from his place near the fence, a smirk in his lips at her bold words.

“Leave her alone, Mar.” Sinclair playfully interjected from next to Stack, trying to diffuse the tension.

“Yeah, can you leave me alone? I wasn’t even talking to you.” Juicy added, her tone sharp. Stack’s smirk grew wider as he looked at her, his tongue subconsciously tracing over his bottom lip as he eyed her.

Juicy then turned to Sinclair, her expression softening. “I need to borrow the car tonight. I’ll put gas in it.”

Sinclair hesitated for a moment, slightly squinting he eyes at the younger girl. “You better put glass in it.” She said, causing Juicy to smack her lips. “Didn’t i just say that? It’s my car too, Claire.” She said, crossing her arms. And besides the way her doing so pushed her breasts together and up, the twins noticed her plump lips had formed a small put as she spoke to her sister. They also began to notice that Juicy had grown into a bit of a boujee brat since they left. And that wasn’t a complete turn off to either of them. Sinclair then nodded her head over to the house. “Keys are in my purse on the couch.”

Juicy smiled, her grin radiant. “Thank you, Claire.” She said sweetly, puckering her lips in an air kiss before switching away from them, not sparing anyone a single glance. As she walked away, the twins couldn’t help but watch her, their eyes following her every move, especially the way her hips moved from side to side. Smoke and Stack shared a glance, holding eye contact for mere seconds and fully knowing wha the other was thinking. They shared a single and subtle nod before going back to the party.

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The sun in the key began to dim and the music had softened into something slow and familiar—Frankie Beverly and Maze playing low over a radio someone left by the porch. Most of the crowd had either filtered to their cars to chill or leaned into the vibe with drinks and smoke in-hand. The air was thick with that Mississippi humidity, but Juicy didn’t seem to mind.

She was perched on the edge of the porch railing, one heel kicked off, sipping on water from a bottle through a straw to not mess up her makeup. Drinking water in the first place to come down from the buzz she felt from her and Mary’s earlier pre-game. Her curls had grown puffier from the heat, and her lip gloss was faded where she sipped through the thin plastic, but it was still shining in the glow of the porch light. She flipped lazily through a magazine she pulled from Mary’s purse, something she always carried the newest edition of. The light bouncing off her glasses, which she pulled from her purse and slipped on.

Smoke spotted her first—leaned up against the hood of a car in front of the Hall family yard, his arms folded, eyes cool. He didn’t say anything for a moment, just watched her while the men around conversed. Juicy didn’t look up at first, too focused on the gossip section of the magazine, but when she did look up, she saw him already headed her way.

He didn’t say a word when he reached the porch, just leaned against the porch rail beside her, looking down at her from above, as she looked up at him.

“Thought you mighta dipped by now.” He said, voice deep and low. His gaze intense as his eyes trailed over every inch of her face.

Juicy smiled a little, eyes bouncing from the paper in her hands and up into his serene eyes. “Nah. Mary got caught up with some scrub over there.” She said, gesturing over to the girl that was giggling at something a dark skinned man with cornrows said to her, caught in the trance of her laugh. Smoke didn’t even look at where the girl was pointing, his eyes trained on he as her eyes drifted away from him.

He simply hummed. “You look different.” He said.

That got her attention. She looked back over at him, smirking. “Good different or bad different?” She asked with a tilt of her head, subconsciously nipping at her bottom lip. Smoke’s eyes didn’t waver from her face. “Good.” There was a pause as his eyes jumped down to her lips before looking her back in the eye. “Grown.” He nodded.

And that single word settled heavy between them. Juicy raised an eyebrow at him, taking a slow sip from her water as she tried to hide her smile. “Well… it has been about, almost, seven years.” She shrugged.

“I ain’t forget.’ He replied, gaze sharp, but not unkind. “I remember you used to sit on this same porch with that blue bubblegum Stack got for your from the machine down at Phonso’s, scraped knees after falling from his bike for the fourth time cause he drives like a bat out of hell.” He explained with a fond smile, causing Juicy to duck her head as she felt heat creep up her neck. “And you was always talkin’ loud and with your hands, you two arguing about something he told you.”

Juicy chuckled. “Yeah, we ain’t have to reason to argue, but me and you did.” She said, giving him a playful once over. “You used to steal my freeze cups and act like you ain’t do it.” She said, moving to push his arms playfully.

A flicker of a smile threatened the corner of his mouth, looking at the girl who gazed up at him. His gazed trailed her up and down, taking in her form as she sat on the porch. When his eyes made its way back up to her face, he caught her eyes, that twinkled in the dwindling sunlight at him. “You still loud?” He asked. And he could see the way the glint in her eye changed. And it did, because one thing Juicy no longer was, was that shy and self-conscious girl her mother turned her into. She knew she had things abut her that guys loved, and she grew to find the beauty within herself, on her own. And now it seemed that her “new look” was catching the attention of a gut she’s had a crush ion since she could remember. At least, that’s what she thought.

“Sometimes.” She teased, brushing her curls behind her ear, playing subtly into what she thought she saw within him. “Depends on who I’m around.” She said softly, giving him a slow blink as she looked up at him through her lashes.

Smoke didn’t answer. Just looked at her like he was trying to figure something out. The silence wasn’t awkward—it was charged. Both of them could feel it, as it was exchanged between their eye contact.

“I’ll see you around, Juicy.’ He finally said, pushing off the railing. And she watched him go, heart knocking slightly against her chest. He didn’t look back once—but she could feel that his energy lingered.

Almost an hour later, she was back on the porch, both heels kicked off now. Her legs were crossed as she sat on the porch swing, sort of lying down as she swayed back and forth, when Stack strolled up with a plastic cup in hand and that devil-may-care smirk he always wore like a cologne.

“Well, well, well.” He drawled, stopping in front of her with a slow once-over. “If it ain’t my little Juicy fruit. You’ve changed so much, ma.” He said, grinning as he leaned against the porch banister, looking down at her. Juicy gave him a look, moving her eyes away from her pedicure that she was focused on as she hummed to the music. “You still talk too much.” She deadpanned, living her foot up as she looked back at her toes, thinking if she needed another color or not. Stack watched her, how unbothered the girl seemed to be by him as she analyzed herself.

“And you still like it.” He fired back smoothly. “You always did, you know that.” He said before, eyeing her as he sipped from his cup, looking at her over the rim. Juicy’s eyes trailed back over to him as she crossed her legs, ignoring the pulse she felt at her center at his words. She rubbed her lips together, spreading her gloss while Stack continued. “That outfit—mm.” He hummed. “That outfit of yours is a but disrespectful.”

“Disrespectful?” She asked, raising a brow. And her irritation that was rising was clear to the both of them as she blinked at him.

He nodded as he leaned closer, eyes dragging down her legs and back up again. “Yeah.” He said. “To every man at this party that ain’t got a chance.” He smirked. Juicy laughed at that, loud and unbothered, shaking her head. “Boy, you ain’t changed not one bit.”

She grinned, cheesing at him. “Still slick at the mouth.”

“Why would I change when I know you love me no matter what?” Stack grinned, resting his arm on the porch rail beside her. “No change been doin me just fine.” He said. Juicy simply tilted her head at his words, taking his appearance in. She didn’t know what to say to him, because she knew he was right. She had been smitten for Stack for a very long time, even if it was never said. And Stack used to indulge the girl up until the day he left. Their bond went far beyond what most could understand, but when they were younger, she helped Stack more than she knew. Stack did the same. He studied her, all slow. Juicy just hummed. “But you?” Stack started. “What was that earlier, huh? Juicy in Juicy? Baby, when was you gon’ tell me that you were a brand now?” He asked her jokingly.

The girl rolled her eyes but smirked. “Don’t gas me.”

“I ain’t. I just tell it how it is, ma.” He tilted his head. “ So what you been up to since I been gone? I know you ain’t been in no trouble. You was never trouble, I was, but you grown now.”

Juicy let out a small sight, shaking her head. “Nah.” She said shaking her head. “Not me. Not yet.” She chuckled. “Just been doing anything a young girl like does.”

Stack quirked a brow at that. “Like what? Don’t tell me you got a lil boyfriend or something. You talkin’ to anybody?” He asked.

Juicy narrowed her eyes. “Why?” She asked, tilting her head at him.

“’Cause I wanna know what I’m up against.” He smirked. “Who ass i gotta beat about you, ma.” He said. But before she could answer, Mary hollered from inside for her to come help look for her purse. Juicy blinked away where ever the current conversation was just going as she stood up, slipping back into her heels with a sway.

“I’ll see you around, Elias.” She said softly, blinking at him before she moved away.

Stack watched her walk, eyes glued to the way her brown skinned back moved under her top. “Lawd have mercy…” He mumbled o himself, looking at her until those wide hips left his sight and entered the home.

The night went on and the party fizzed out to other parts of the city for the people who didn’t want to go home but had to get the hell out of the Hall yard. Smoke sat on the couch later that night, across the street inside of his old home. He remembered the little girl who used to knock on their door for extra to borrow sugar, or see if they had chips. Who used to cry quietly on Sinclair’s bed when her parents argued in the next room. And now? That girl had gone. She stood taller now, with a body that demanded attention—and a confidence that made it dangerous.

He didn’t like surprises. And Juicy had just become one.

In a room down the hall, Stack was laid out on a bed, arms behind his head, still thinking. He could hear the television that Stack watched in the living room, and as he drifted off to sleep, he couldn’t help but to think of the girl he saw earlier, and the way she was dressed now. He had to admit, she was attractive, and the way they spoke to, he took that as an invitation of something she wanted. And he liked a challenge. Always had. And something about Juicy’s energy? That little attitude, the way she didn’t fall into his rhythm so easy—but played into nonetheless—it got under his skin in the best way.

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It was a day later and house was lazily buzzing with the glow of the afternoon sun. The TV inside of the Hall family home was humming some rerun in the background as Juicy and Mary sprawled across the worn couch. They were both flipping through their phones, exchanging idle comments about people’s outfits from last night, when Sinclair called out from the kitchen.

“Juicy!” She yelled.

Juciy rolled her eyes but nonetheless called back out to her. “Yeah!” She yelled back, getting a shove in her leg by Mary’s foot, who looked away from her phone to something that caught her eye on the television. Juicy turned her lip up at her but only settled to nudge her back. Sinclair walked out from the kitchen and looked at the girls on the couch. “Can you run to the corner store for me real quick? I gotta keep an eye on Tyson.” Sinclair’s voice was half-pleading, half-commanding—the way it always was whenever she needed a favor.

Juicy groaned softly, head falling back against the couch dramatically. “Okay.” She agreed immediately, even though her slight annoyance was clear as Sinclair move back to the kitchen. “Can I go in the car at least?” She asked.

Sinclair poked her head around the corner, her expression already set. “Only if you fill the tank up.” She stated.

Juicy sat up with a loud sigh, already knowing she was beat. “Man, I ain’t tryna spend my whole check from the shop on gas.” She muttered under her breath, tossing the ouch blanket onto the couch cushion ext to her. “Fine. We’ll walk.” She said, subjecting the other girl into a walk in the heat.

It wouldn’t too bad, she supposed. The sun was high and hot, but the store was just a few blocks away, and a little walk might do them some good. Plus, they could grab ice cream while they were at it.

Juicy and Mary made their way down the cracked sidewalk, the summer heat bouncing off the pavement in lazy waves. As they neared the corner store, they spotted a certain man and his homeboys posted up against the brick wall in front of their cars, laughing and talking amongst themselves, completely ignoring the store owner who was yelling at them to stop loitering.

Juicy rolled her eyes. Of course they were here, she thought.

The store owner finally threw his hands up and stormed back inside, giving the crew a full view of the two girls as they approached.

Donavan, the man dressed in a bulls jersey over a white t-shirt with baggy jeans, didn’t hide the way his eyes slid over Juicy, slow and deliberate, biting his bottom lip like he was seeing her for the first time instead of the thousandth. His boys chimed in too, whistling and throwing out comments, the usual noise that came with being two girls walking through the neighborhood.

“Aye, Ju, let me holla at you.”

“Wassup, Mary? With yo fine ass.”

“Damn, Juicy, when you gone let a nigga get some?”

Juicy sucked her teeth with a disgusted look on her face, swinging open the store’s door with a hard shove as she ignored them, letting the cool air from the store hit her skin. Mary grabbed a small cart and immediately went to the mental list Sinclair had given, while Juicy stayed by the freezer section, scanning for a good ice cream cone.

She was crouched low, comparing brands and prices, when she heard the bell over the door chime again.

She looked up—and of course—there was Donavan.

“Man, you just gon’ act like you don’t see me?” He said, flashing that same crooked grin he used back in high school, ignoring the looks from the man behind the counter.

Juicy stood up slowly, closing the freezer door with a tap of her hip. “I saw you.” She said flatly. “I just ain’t been impressed so far.” She shrugged. Donavan chuckled, swaggering closer. “Aw, c’mon now, Ju. You used to light up when you saw me. What happened to that lil’ smile you used to have for me?”

“First of all, don’t call me Ju. We ain’t cool like that, and tell them niggas you hand with the same thing.” She said, looking up at him with a smirk. “Second of all, I grew up, nigga.” Juicy said, crossing her arms over her chest. “Like you shoulda been did.”

“Damn, Juicy, why you gotta be like that?”

“Cause I can.” The girl said, sassily tilting her head at him.

Donavan laughed again, undeterred by the girls bratty attitude. “You still fine though.” He stated, looking her up and down. “Still got that lil’ mean mouth on you too. Bet you still sweet underneath all that tough talk though, huh?”

“Oh, and I bet you would love to know that.” Juicy said softly, not hiding how her sultry she her tone was as she spoke to him. Donavan couldn’t hide his grin, causing Juicy to shake her head, fighting the little smirk that threatened her lips. He was charming, she’d give him that, but she knew better. Knew what lurked behind that smile.

Donavan wasn’t an ugly guy, far from it. And he could be sweet at times, but there was multiple reasons Juicy couldn’t go for him. One of them being that he was a rival of her brothers and she didn’t like that gang and selling drugs shit at all. She stayed far away from it. Secondly, his persistent flirting was a bit much. He’d been pining after her since junior year of high school, and she had to admit, she was playing hard to get at first. But Donavan was far from a saint. He was a harlot, and damn near every girl in the neighborhood has had a piece of that, and that’s not how Juicy rolled.

Before she could come up with a retort, Mary called from the bread aisle, “I’m done, Ju!” She said before she began walking over to them.

Donavan’s attention shifted immediately, his eyebrows lifting as he took in Mary for the first time. His grin widened.

“Well damn.” He said under his breath, eyeing Mary from head to toe like he was picking out dessert. “Wassup, Mary. How you doin’?” He asked, smirking at the girl. Mary turned her face up at him, while Juicy rolled her eyes, before both girl simultaneously scoffed at is audacity. They ignored him and made their way to the counter with their items, Juicy grabbing their ice cream cones last minute. The clerk began ringing them up when Donavan swaggered over and slapped a wad of crumpled bills on the counter.

“I got it.” He said, flashing a quick wink at Juicy. But the girl snatched the money up without hesitation and shoved it right back into his chest. “We don’t need that.”

Donavan smirked, amused by her defiance. “It’s not about what you need, shorty. Take what you want.”

“We don’t want it either.” She said sharply, pulling out the cash Sinclair had given her, quickly sorting through the bills before handing it to the clerk before the man could even finish telling her the total, and she was right on point with the amount.

She and Mary grabbed the bags, and Juicy snatched up their cones as they made their way to the door, Donavan trailing behind them like a stray dog.

“Why you still actin’ stuck up, Ju?” He called after them, loud enough for half the store to hear.

“Didn’t I tell you not to call me that? Don’t play with me Donavan.” Juicy snapped.

“Man, back in high school you used to eat up the way I talked to you. Now you too good, huh? Cause you in college and shit? Or is it ‘cause of them little fake ass jobs you got now? That lil’ beauty shop money got you actin’ brand new?” He went off, and Juicy was not hiding the way she rolled her eyes at him, scoffing at the man’s pissy attitude. She was about to whirl around, ready to cuss him out, but before she could get a word out, two familiar figures were walking up the pavement toward them.

“Hey, Smoke, hey Stack.” Juicy called out brightly, more than happy for the distraction from the aggravating man behind her.

The twins immediately clocked the situation—the girls, Donavan standing too close, the tension thick enough to cut.

Smoke’s dark eyes narrowed slightly as he nodded at her. “Hey, Ju.” He said. While Stack lifted his chin in greeting too, his lips curling into an amused smirk when he caught Donavan’s posture stiffening.

The silent acknowledgement between the men was heavy. They weren’t strangers to each other—and they sure as hell weren’t friends. Though Smoke and Stack had only gotten back two days ago, they were apparent to the things that’s changed since they’ve been gone. Donavan now controlled his brothers, Demetrius, territory. Said main being locked up. And Smoke and Stack were not good friends with Demetrius at all, so much so that it meant Donavan had a problem with them. They were speculated to had something to do with him going to jail, conveniently leaving for Chicago a week after that big altercation at MO’s spot, which led to his arrest.

Smoke’s gaze slid past Juicy to Donavan, cutting and assessing. “What you doing here?” His voice was calm as he spoke to the girl, but there was something under it, something harder.

“Pickin’ up some things for Claire.” Juicy said, clueless to the silent war playing out behind her.

She gave a bright, casual smile, holding up the little plastic bags like proof. Neither Stack nor Smoke looked away from Donavan though, both of them standing a little more solidly now, like they were ready for whatever might happen next.

Donavan licked his lips, sizing them up, but said nothing—just chuckled low and turned back toward his crew loitering outside.

Smoke was the first to speak once the tension in the air settled, offering an easy way out. “Y’all need a ride?” He asked, nodding towards the bags weighing down Juicy and Mary’s arms. “We just stopped for gas and some woods. We can drop y’all off.”

Juicy glanced at Mary, who shrugged, her arms full. They really didn’t feel like walking back, especially not with Donavan hovering like a damn gnat. “Yeah, sure,” Juicy said, her voice casual but thankful.

Stack, ever the quieter one, fished the keys from his pocket and dangled them in front of Juicy. “Here.” He said, a slight teasing glint in his eye. When Juicy went to grab the keys from his hands, a smile on her face, he snatched them back, looking down at her. “But be careful with the silver Beemer, ma. Don’t scuff her up.” He said. Juicy sucked her teeth, snatching the keys from him without hesitation. “Boy, it’s not like I’m gon’ drive it.” She sassed, giving him a quick, annoyed look.

And Stack couldn’t help but smirk at the sight of her, admiring the way her brows pinched together and her mouth tightened into a small, perfect frown. Those glossed lips shining in the sun, looking extra plump and kissable whether a frown watched its way onto her face. The way she looked up at him, lashes fluttering despite her irritation, did something to him.He let out a small breath, shaking his head at her. “You lucky, girl.” He said under his breath with a grin, placing the keys firmly into her palm.

As Stack handed off the keys, Smoke was still watching Donavan, who hadn’t moved far from the sidewalk. His stare was heavy, daring, but when Stack walked past him and followed Smoke inside the store, Donavan finally peeled his eyes away with a quiet scoff.

Juicy and Mary didn’t waste time. They carried their bags across the lot and slipped into the BMW, bags in laps, ice cream cones still slowly melting in hand. The interior was spotless, smelling faintly of new leather and the sweet, lingering scent of someone’s cologne. It felt way too fancy for them to be sitting in it with grocery bags and dollar store cones. They hadn’t been waiting long before the twins came back out. Smoke slid behind the wheel, tossing the woods and lighter onto the dashboard, while Stack circled to the passenger side. As Stack pumped the last bit of gas into the tank, Smoke adjusted the mirror — and that’s when he caught it.

Juicy, in the backseat, lazily licking at her strawberry ice cream cone. Her tongue swept slow and deliberate over the pink scoop, a tiny bit dripping down the side. She leaned forward slightly to catch it with her tongue again, completely unaware of the way the simple, innocent action had locked Smoke’s gaze. He didn’t mean to stare — really, he didn’t — but damn if she wasn’t making it hard not to.

He shook himself free of the trance when Stack climbed back in, twisting the cap onto his water bottle. Smoke pulled out of the lot and headed back towards their part of the neighborhood, the smooth purr of the engine humming under them.

As soon as the tires hit pavement, the questions started.

“So,” Smoke began, his voice casual but carrying an edge. He looked at Juicy through the rearview. “That nigga botherin’ you?”

Juicy blinked at him, caught mid-bite of her cone. “Who?” She asked, genuinely confused.

Stack turned slightly in his seat to face her, resting his arm against the door. “Donavan.” He clarified, his voice low. “You know… Mr. Tryna-Mack.” He said before scoffing at the mere mention of the boy, who he himself addressed with a purposeful corny nickname.

Juicy rolled her eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t get stuck. “Please.” She scoffed. “He been tryna talk to me since junior year. Ain’t never gon’ happen.”

Mary snorted beside her, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “He was real bold today, though.” She added. “Damn near droolin’ when he saw her.”

“Yuck.” Juicy grumbled.

Smoke’s hands tightened slightly on the wheel, though he kept his tone light. “You tell us if he don’t get the message.” He said, voice a shade deeper. “We can handle that.”

Juicy smiled a little, amused at their protectiveness but not taking it too seriously. “I’m good.” She said, leaning back against the seat. “Ain’t nobody worried about Donavan ass.” Stack then glanced at her again, eyes sharp but amused. “Well, you should be worried about lettin’ that ice cream melt all over my damn seat.” He said, turning his head to glacé black at her. “And Claire’s groceries.” Mary teased. Juicy stuck her tongue out at him, making Mary laugh, and the tension in the car broke into something easier, more familiar. Smoke refocused on the road, but his mind wandered — mostly back to that image of Juicy, licking strawberry ice cream, entirely too sweet and dangerous for her own good.

And Stack? He couldn’t help the small grin that tugged at his mouth, stealing another glance at Juicy as she chattered with Mary in the back. She was fire and thorns all wrapped up in something too pretty to touch — but damn if he didn’t want to.

And maybe, soon, he’d find a reason to get a little closer.

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To the people of Chicago, Odessa Ripley was a simple woman. All they knew about her was that she worked at Gertie’s Fine Dining, was born and raised in Clarksdale, Mississippi, and the second wife to Laurence Ripley, who they only assumed could be the on putting those bruises on her skin that she tried to hide with makeup and a beaming smile. And that was all true. She was born and raised in Clarksdale Mississippi, far out from the small city life the place did have. She lived a small plantation where her family did a little well, though they were still slaves to the money they only could dream of. The eldest girl of four kids.

But she wasn’t the ideal child, not to her father at least. She was so focused on doing her work, making as much money as she could to take care of her family, but the time she was sixteen, she had no prospects. And that didn’t sit right with him. He spent the next two years, trying to turn the field girl into a suitable wife. And she knew the basics, cooking, cleaning, sowing, all that. And though her beauty was there, men didn’t want a girl who worked her whole life doing labor. They wanted a lady. And that was something she wasn’t.

She wasn’t soft spoken, and she wasn’t stupid and naive as most men wanted her to be. She was reserved, didn’t talk much, but when she did it meant something. She was an observer, so she started a lot, and she resting face gave off an unwelcoming feeling to most. And Carl Coulter had lost hope.

That was until he caught word from some white men speaking about their daughters during work, and how they’d send their girls off to marry suitable men.

And then all hope didn’t seem to be lost, and he also saw extra money in his future.

And next thing Odessa knew was that five years ago years ago, she’d been Odessa Maree Coulter of Mississippi, a barefoot girl with callused hands and no prospects. And then her father had sold her off like a debt, packed her onto a train with a suitcase and a scrap of paper: Laurence Ripley, Chicago. And she wasn’t even sure how much she was sold for.

She just hoped it made her family happy, and now they could live a bit better.

And now, by day, Odessa Ripley served fried meats and bootlegged coffee at Gertie’s Fine Dining, a “restaurant” so polite you could bring your elderly mother after church. And by night, she ghosted through the real heart of the place — a speakeasy buried under the floorboards, lit dimly by candles, cigarette smoke and broken dreams.

She wasn’t loud, wasn’t showy. She never was but it was something she grew not to be after years in the bustling city of Chicago. She minded her business, kept her eyes low and her hands busy. In a place like Gertie’s, it was safer not to see too much, though nothing could go down in the designated safe zone.

But even a reserved woman could notice patterns.

There was him. This one man. He was tall, dark, well built and sharp at the edges. Everyone that was anyone seemed to know him. The Italians bragged about him, and the Irish laughed with him over glasses of rotten whiskey.

Same man.

Only… he wasn’t the same man. At least, that’s what Odessa gathered.

She caught it in the smallest things. When he came with the Italians, he wore polished shoes, a perfectly pressed suit, a gold pinky ring flashing under the low lights. His hair slicked hard and smooth when he took off his fedora. The gold outlining the teeth of his canines when he laughed loudly with the men and he kissed cheeks like he was born in Naples.

But when he rolled in with the Irish, he wore scuffed boots, a crooked tie, a rough grin that didn’t stretch far but signaled trouble. His hair tucked under a flat cap, and he laughed easy, slapping backs like he grew up tossing stones at windows in Dublin.

From the inattentive men of the mobs to the unassuming bystanders, it was just one man. A man like no other that gained them more power and money than some of them could ever think of.

But to Odessa, it was two. It had to be. It didn’t make any sense to her. Unless her lack of communication to people besides her children was staring to get to her.

She noticed things about them—him. Some nights, he drank bourbon neat. Other nights, he asked for gin with a twist. Some nights, he limped on his right leg. Other nights, his left shoulder hung low. Some nights, he spoke sharp and clipped, like he’d been raised in Chicago proper. Other nights, there was a soft, creeping drawl that curled the edges of his words.

Most folks would’ve chalked it up to exhaustion, to drinks, or to the weight of the life. But Odessa had lived enough of a double-life herself to recognize a crack in the mask.

But she wasn’t brave enough to say it out loud.

Lord knew she had enough troubles stitched into the seams of her life already. But she did have the ones she grew to love more than she could ever imagine.

Her husband, Laurence Ripley, was a widower. She never knew fully what happened to the woman, and she wasn’t strong enough to ask the little ones or the grieving husband. But from word of mouth, it seemed to everyone that it was simply unexpected. And now Laurence needed help, he said. Needed a wife, he meant.

Odessa learned the difference between the two quick.

She also learned to love his children — Beatrice ‘Beaty’ and Peter ‘Pete’ — who clung to her like barnacles to a sinking ship after the loss of their mother. Nothing but ten and twelve when she first met them, her nothing but eighteen.

Now, she lived with the children, who were closer to her age than she was to their father. She tried her best to keep smiles on their faces, even when they would drop when Laurence came home drunk or angry every night. The three found solace in each other after abruptly loosing the life they once knew.

Still, she couldn’t help but tell the kids her theory late at night, when the dishes were washed and Beaty was playing with her hair while Pete was pretending he wasn’t listening.

“I think there’s two of ’em.” She said, dropping her voice like the walls had ears as she sowed the hole in Laurence’s shirt closed.

“Two what?” Pete asked, looking up from his whittling knife.

“Two men, keep up Pete.” Beaty said said, looking up from the woman’s hair and over to the older boy. Pete simply threw her an annoyed look while Odessa continued. “You don’t know them, but you’ve probably seen them. The one the Italians love and those Irish men laugh with. They look alike, sure, but… they ain’t the same. I swear it.”

Beaty giggled, finishing off the one braid she did with a white ribbon. “Mama Dessa, that has to be the craziest thing I ever heard. Are you making up stories to keep us entertained?” She questioned, causing Pete to snort while Odessa playfully rolled her eyes at the girl. “Ain’t no one slick enough to pull that off.” Peter stated. “’Specially not with those fellas.” He said, before standing up from the table and grabbing his new banjo from the living room, new to him since he saw an old white man throw it out that morning when he was in town getting groceries.

“Ehh.” Beaty chimed back in as she continued with the other half of Odessa head. “It sounds crazy but don’t give those white men too much credit. They ain’t that bright.” She shrugged.

“That ain’t dumb either.” Pete said as she walked back into the small stable that sat in the corner of the kitchen, placing the instrument in his lap. “They just let their egos get in the way of making smart decisions. That’s how they always mess up.” He said, strumming a few strings and letting the soft sounds fill the kitchen. He then paused, looking over at the older woman in the other side of the table. “At least, that’s what you say, right mama?” He asked.

And Odessa smiled into her cup. She then placed it down, offering him her soft look. “Of course.” She said, a bit endeared that he remembered her words. “But don’t go ‘round saying that to other people ‘else word get back to ya and bites. And since you’re in the mood for quoting, also remember—.”

“There ain’t no white man smatter or better than you.” The younger two echoed before the woman could even speak. And hearing their words caused a smile to cross her lips.

“But based on your story, mama Dessa, we may be smarter than you. Cause ain’t no two men posing as one with the mod.” Beaty woke up, her and her brother sharing a laugh while Odessa rolled her eyes at them again as she went back to her sowing.

As they laughed, she wasn’t sure she believed it herself, not really. But deep down, in the place that still had a little fire left, she knew.

She knew.

They never interacted. The man — or men — never said anything to her. Never gave her a wink or a hint. But sometimes, when he passed by her at the bar, shoulder brushing hers, he’d tip his hat just a little lower. And she would nod back. That was it. And it didn’t eat away at her like she thought it would, because even if she was ever right, she knew some things — and some people — were safer left in the shadows.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

The night came in heavy, wrapping Gertie’s in smoke and low murmurs as they prepared to close down for the night. Odessa was working her upstairs shift, and as she wiped down the polished wood of the upstairs counter, head bowed like always, but her sharp eyes caught movement near the door.

There he is, she thought.

Tonight, he was dressed crisp. Tweed suit with a dark green color, a matching flat cap, silver cufflinks, and a dark coat slung over his shoulder. Irish side, then.

He moved smooth through the room, parting it like a ship through water, a close-lipped smile that offered no one comfort.

When he reached the bar, Odessa had already poured a whiskey. Neat. No words exchanged.

He smiled wider now, still small, just a touch to show his nice teeth. Enough to make a lesser girl blush.

“Appreciate it, sweetheart.” He said, voice low and syrupy. She gave a small, polite nod, sliding the glass to him across the bar. Her fingers brushed his glove.

He smelled like tobacco and cologne, something expensive.

He drank standing up, surveying the room that was beginning to thin as families closed down to the night and some men headed to the back to enter their downstairs area.

“Busy night?” He asked, kidding his head over to the bereaved curtain that was stationed behind the bar. They both knew he was taking about the speakeasy below their feet, the room buzzing full of boisterous men drunk off illegal drinks and high off gambling.

“Steady,” Odessa said, voice even. She kept her gaze slightly averted, like a good and unsuspecting girl would.

He let out a small chortle under his breath, tossed a coin onto the bar, and tipped his hat. “Save me a spot next time. I’d love to try the food here.”

Then he was gone, vanishing into the back and disappearing into the dark like a shadow.

The next time was about a day later. She really say then in the same day. She was working her speakeasy shift that night and after the Irish had cleared out and the Italians had flooded in with louder laughs and messier boots, he returned.

But different.

Black suit with a matching wide brimmed hat, gold cufflinks, a white pocket square so sharp it could slice you. He moved as smooth as before, though a little less assertive. He flashed that smug smile that had the women swooning, opposed to the close-lipped smile that said everything and nothing at once that she saw yesterday. His accent was smoother now — words rolling looser, more careless.

“Evenin’, darlin’.” He said, dropping onto a stool with a heavy sigh, like he’d been working all day digging graves. “You got anythin’ that’ll kill a man twice?” He asked with a smirk, showing those gold teeth in the corner of his mouth.

Odessa lifted an eyebrow but kept her voice mild. “Could rustle up a gin, maybe some moonshine or a prayer. Whichever you think’ll hit harder.” She deadpanned.

He barked out a full, throaty laugh — none of that tight and taunt smile from before.

“Gin’ll do,” He said, tapping the bar with two fingers.

She poured him one, hand steady even as her mind rattled. Up close, he seemed a bit broader. His knuckles looked less scuffed, but his skin a shade darker from sun or soot. Maybe she’d imagined the roughness earlier.

Maybe.

Maybe not.

He threw back the drink and grimaced happily.

“You’re a blessing, you know that?” He said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Odessa hummed, taking the glass and pointing him another before moving to the rest of the empty glasses left by men from earlier. “Don’t rightly feel like one some days.” She murmured, surprising herself.

He tilted his head at that, studying her now. The easy humor faded from his face, replaced with something quieter.

Softer.

“You oughta.” He said finally, almost serious before picked a toothpick from the short glass on the bar and put it in his mouth. Then he slid a few coins her way — double what the drink cost — and sauntered back toward the table in the back where a few Italian men were raising hell over dice and cards.

Odessa watched him go, wiping down the already clean bar with slow, careful strokes.

Same man, she thought. Same eyes, same voice.

But…

But not the same weight behind the voice.

Not the same way he wore his own skin.

And no matter how many times Beaty and Pete laughed at her for it, Odessa just knew that those had to be different men. There were two of them. Two faces. Same damn lie stitched up in different suits.

She tucked the extra coins into her apron and said nothing. Some secrets were safer locked behind your teeth.

And she had learned a long time ago. Women like her didn’t survive by speaking the truth.

That is how she got her husband after all.

The girls had barely gotten the bags set down when a knock sounded at the door. Sinclair, baby Ryan perched on her hip, answered it with a small smile. Standing there was Smoke, Stack hanging back in the car. Smoke was looking stoic as ever, and Stack waved and offered a sheepish grin as he looked at the baby in her arms.

“Uh, left my wallet.” Stack said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Think I dropped it in one of the bags.”

Sinclair didn’t miss a beat. “Perfect. Y’all can help me real quick too.” She said, shifting Tyson to her other hip. Before Smoke could protest, she nodded toward the driveway. “Car won’t start. I was gon’ get Juicy to call Keith to take care of it, but since y’all are here…”

Juicy groaned softly behind her sister as she came from putting some of the things away in the kitchen. The last thing she wanted was to owe these two anything — they had just gotten back into town, and she wasn’t tryna look helpless. But Sinclair had already ushered them inside, thanking them sweetly before disappearing down the hall with the baby.

“I can call a tow or something.” Juicy tried weakly, crossing her arms as she followed Smoke outside. “Ain’t no need to trouble y’all—”

Stack waved her off, already heading for the hood of the car. “Ain’t no trouble. We bored anyway.” He said, flashing her a wink as he popped the latch.

Smoke was quieter, surveying the car with narrowed eyes. He glanced at Juicy once, reading her reluctance, but didn’t say anything. Just lifted the hood and started working with the tool bag so close placed on the porch before running back into to Tyson. Mary flopped down onto the porch swing beside Juicy, nudging her shoulder into her leg with a grin.

Juicy exhaled loudly and joined her, watching as the twins tinkered with the car. Occasionally, Sinclair peeked out from the doorway, shouting little updates or asking if they needed anything.

After a while, Stack called over his shoulder, “Y’all just gon’ sit there and stare?”

Juicy, ever the quick one, shrugged, trying to mask her real reason for watching. “The view ain’t so bad.” She quipped, flashing a cute, closed-lip smile.

Both men chuckled. Stack shook his head while Smoke smirked under his breath, glancing back at her with an amused, almost… intrigued look. Juicy could feel her cheeks heat up, but she played it cool, sitting back and licking at her slowly melting strawberry ice cream.

“Girl.” Mary leaned in closer, lowering her voice to a whisper only Juicy could hear. “I’m sorry, but if that was me? I’d hop on that so fast.”

Juicy frowned, glancing sideways at her. “Huh?”

Mary gave her a look like it was obvious. “Come on, Ju. You see how they lookin’ at you. Both of ’em. Like they tryna figure out who’s gon’ get the first move. You or one of them.”

Juicy shook her head, lips pressed tight to hide a smile. “You trippin’.”She mumbled, though her heart picked up in her chest.

“Nah, you just blind.” Mary laughed, licking her own ice cream cone. “I’m just sayin’ — if you don’t do something about it, I might.” She said suggestively, nudging in the arm. Juicy just rolled her eyes, pretending she wasn’t affected, but her eyes wandered back to the driveway, watching the way Smoke leaned over the hood with his sleeves pushed up, the muscles in his forearms flexing with each turn of a wrench. Stack was no better, lounging against the side of the car, wiping sweat from his forehead with the hem of his shirt, flashing a glimpse of his abs.

Damn. She thought. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if Mary wasn’t crazy.

After a while, since Juicy wasn’t about to let the twins work themselves to death, she brought the men out something to drink. Slipping back inside the house, she returned with a small tray balanced in her hands, setting down a cold pitcher of lemonade and a stack of bottled waters on the porch railing. She also dragged out an old, battered radio, plopping it near the steps and fiddling with the dial until it landed on a station spinning smooth R&B tracks.

Stack caught the change in atmosphere first, glancing over his shoulder and giving a low chuckle when he saw Juicy setting everything up like a little hostess. Or a nice housewife. Smoke didn’t say anything — just wiped his hands on a rag and nodded his thanks before ducking back under the hood of gray ‘96 Buick LeSabre.

Juicy and Mary settled on the porch again, bare legs swinging lightly above the ground, chatting and laughing while the twins worked. Every so often, Stack would pop his head up, teasing them about being lazy, and Juicy would shoot something back just as quick, the easy back-and-forth slipping into something more familiar. Something warmer.

“You gon’ sit there and watch all day?” Stack called out as he tightened a bolt.

Juicy rolled her eyes as she sipped at her lemonade through a straw, the corner of her mouth twitching up in a smile. “I’m minding my business, which just so happens to be that car, and making sure y’all don’t make it worse. Now get back to work, handsome.” She tossed back sweetly, flashing him a playful grin.

Both twins barked a laugh at that — Smoke shaking his head with a smirk while Stack grinned wider, flashing those gold fronts that caught the sunlight.

They were almost finished when a group of girls strutted up the sidewalk, all lip gloss and cut-off shorts, waving excitedly at Juicy and Mary.

“Y’all coming to the rink tonight?” One called, Sharee, bouncing on her toes. “It’s ladies night — free entry. And DJ Sammie’s on the music so you know it’s gon’ be poppin’!”

Juicy hesitated, letting out a questioning him and glancing sideways at Mary, who immediately nodded like a bobblehead. Juicy couldn’t help but laugh as she stood up from the wing and moved over to the porch railing.

Sensing the pause, another girl chimed in, grinning mischievously. “Keith’s gonna be there…”

That name got both Stack and Smoke’s attention. Stack looked up from under the car, wiping his hands on his jeans, while Smoke just leaned an elbow against the hood, eyes narrowed slightly as he listened.

Juicy groaned, rolling her eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t fall out. “We ain’t goin’ for Keith.” She said firmly, crossing her arms. “We goin’ for the music. And the skating.” The group of girls just giggled, but the twins kept their reactions to themselves, although the way Stack shook his head and muttered something under his breath wasn’t lost on anyone paying attention.

Just then, Smoke stepped out from under the car, grabbing the hem of his white muscle shirt and dragging it up to wipe the sweat off his face and neck. The move revealed a long stretch of carved abs and broad chest, glistening slightly under the sun.

The girls on the sidewalk went still, staring, barely trying to hide it. Mary leaned over to Juicy and whispered something that made her snort.

Smoke’s arms, chest, and abs were cut and gleaming, every muscle shifting as he moved. His expression was calm, like he didn’t even notice the sudden heavy air. But the girls noticed.

They tried — tried — to stay cool, fake texting on their phones, fiddling with their hair, pretending to stretch like they weren’t sneaking glances at every inch of him. One girl tilted her head, lips parting slightly before she caught herself and quickly turned to whisper something to her friend, who was already elbowing her back.

The whole group looked like they wanted to fan themselves but knew better than to make it obvious.

Smoke ignored the attention entirely as she turned and waked towards the porch. His focus stayed locked on Juicy as he strolled up to the porch, a confident stride. Without a word, he picked up one of the glasses she had set out and drained it in a few long gulps.

When he finished, he lowered the glass, standing close enough that Juicy had to tilt her head up to meet his gaze. The other girls might as well have disappeared.

“Can I get some more ice, please?” Smoke asked, his voice deep and steady. Juicy blinked, a little caught off guard by the way he said it — by the slow, deliberate way he spoke, like every word was dipped in syrup.

“Of course.” She said, a little softer than before, reaching out to take the empty glass from his hand.

“Thanks, ma.” He added, flashing a rare, almost boyish grin that somehow made him even more dangerous.

Juicy barely managed a nod before spinning on her heel quickly and disappearing into the house with the glass, feeling the heat creep up her neck.

Smoke watched her go for a second longer than necessary before heading back to the car without a word, his expression unreadable. Stack only laughed lowly, shaking his head as he tightened another bolt. “You got her flustered, boy.”

Smoke just smirked under his breath and leaned back under the hood. “Shut up and fix the damn car.” He muttered, but even then, there was a certain lightness to him that hadn’t been there before.

Meanwhile, on the sidewalk, the group of girls tried desperately to collect themselves, sneaking peeks at each other like who the hell are they and why haven’t we seen them before? Their excitement was bubbling under the surface, barely contained, especially knowing there was still another fine man half-hidden under the car.

Juicy came back out seconds later, filling the ice cup with water and said it down, waiting for the man to come get whenever he wanted. She saw the looks on the girls faces, and before the girls could even chime in about the fine men fixing the car, Juicy suddenly rethought what Mary had just said, realizing she didn’t like the way the newcomers were looking at Smoke and Stack. She blinked, glancing between the ogling group.

The girls were too busy stealing glances to notice Juicy’s mood shift, or even her arrival, especially as Stack slid out from under the car, sweat dripping down his bronze skin. Without a second thought, he tugged his white muscle shirt off completely, exposing his toned body to the beaming sun. He used the shirt to wipe his face, running a hand down his cornrows before slipping right back under the car like he hadn’t just stopped half the sidewalk.

Juicy felt something twist in her chest. She didn’t like this one bit. Straightening up, she forced a polite smile, her arms folding over her chest tightly.

“Okay, I’ll see y’all at the rink.” She said, voice tight but sweet.

The girls, slow to pull their attention away from the men, nodded distractedly. One of them even started to raise a finger, angled towards the men and probably about to ask something Juicy had no patience for. Before she could get a word out, Juicy was already coming down the porch steps, keeping her arms folded as she approached.

“I have to go help Mary pick out an outfit. We’ll see y’all there.”She said firmly, her tone leaving no room for further conversation.

Her smile stayed taut and polite, but her eyes sharpened a bit as she looked at the girl who’d been about to speak. The girl simply blinked and nodded. Maybe they caught on to the shift in attitude, maybe they didn’t. Either way, Juicy didn’t care.

She waved them off, watching with a hard stare until they turned the corner and disappeared out of sight.

When she turned back toward the house, Mary was sitting on the porch, one brow raised knowingly. Juicy rolled her eyes at her friend’s silent teasing.

“Come on.” She huffed. “We gotta find you something to wear.”She stayed planted on the sidewalk, not bothering to head back inside since they were about to walk to Mary’s house anyway.

Mary scoffed as she stood up, amusement all over her face as she made her way down the porch. “Don’t be mad at me ’cause you’re conflicted.”

“I’m not conflicted.” Juicy snapped, arms still crossed over her chest, her bottom lip pushed out in a pout. It was a look Stack, still under the car, caught from the corner of his eye — a look that he and Smoke both secretly adored.

Stack rolled out from under the car and looked between the girls. “Where y’all going?” He asked, already pretty sure he knew from the bits of conversation he’d heard. “To Mary’s.” Juicy replied quickly, still sounding a little ticked off without even knowing why.

Stack stood up, stretching his arms over his head lazily before wiping his sweat away with the shirt still in his hand. “Okay, well, you’re not gonna walk. I’ll take you.”

Juicy frowned, confused. “Why? What about the car?”

Stack looked down at her, his gold skin glinting in the sun, cool and unaffected. “Smoke got it.” He said, simple and sure. Juicy opened her mouth, ready to argue, but Stack cut her off, stepping closer and towering over her just slightly.

“And he don’t care. He’ll be a’ight. Now walk on over to that car so we can get you girls ready for the rink tonight.” He said, more a command than a suggestion.

Juicy bit the inside of her cheek, arms pressing tighter against her stomach, trying to ignore the way her body responded to the authority in his voice. When she didn’t move, too caught up in her spiraling thoughts, Stack quirked a brow at her, waiting.

That little flick of his eyebrow snapped her out of it. She blinked, glancing away quickly, then shoved her hand out toward him. “I need the key.” She said sassily, shifting her weight onto one leg, her chin tilted up in challenge.

Stack smirked slightly and pulled the key from his low-hanging pants, dropping it into her palm. Their fingers brushed, and Juicy had to bite back a shiver at the sudden spark that zipped up her arm.

“Go.” Stack said again, his voice low, almost amused.

Juicy scoffed, even though she was already moving toward the parked car across the street. Mary fell into step beside her, grinning devilishly. “Girl, if he talked to me like that, you don’t even wanna know the things I’d be calling him. Shit you only hear in pornos.” She said, her voice loud enough to make Juicy’s face heat up.

Juicy scoffed softly but said nothing, sliding into the back seat with Mary right behind her.

“Girl, you say things you hear in pornos in regular conversation.” Juicy shot back once they were both buckled in.

Mary laughed so hard she snorted. “Exactly! That’s why I said you don’t even know what I could pull out. I got a Rolodex of words that would taint the whole Hall household if I even thought of ’em.”

Juicy scrunched up her nose playfully, a look of exaggerated disgust crossing her face. “Yo freaky ass.” She muttered. The girls’ laughter echoed in the car as Stack disappeared inside briefly, grabbing one of Martin’s spare shirts to tug on and fixing himself a glass of lemonade before joining them.

════════════ ⭑.ᐟ ════════════

The drive to Mary’s house didn’t take long—it never did. Just a few blocks through the old neighborhood, past houses that still had their porch swings and clotheslines, windows cracked open to let the breeze in. Stack drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting near the gear shift. Mary sat up from the back seat, chatting about outfit options for the rink while Juicy stayed quiet in the back seat, arms still folded, her mind split between Stack’s voice in her ear and the way her body still buzzed from it.

When Stack pulled up in front of Mary’s house, he barely shifted the car into park before he popped open his door. Juicy blinked, confused, leaning forward from the back seat. “Where are you going?” She asked, watching as Stack stepped out, the driver’s side still wide open. Her brows were drawn together, confused by his quick exit.

He paused, glancing back at her with that same half-annoyed, half-amused look that always made her want to slap him—and maybe kiss him, too, if she’d ever admit it.

“You thought I was about to sit in this hot ass car while you girls take forever to find one outfit?” He asked, brows raised like she was the one being unreasonable. “Hell no.” Before Juicy could reply, he added with a shrug, “Plus, I gotta speak to Ms. Boothe.”

That caused Juicy to scoff a little and roll her eyes, the corner of her lip twitching into a pout even she didn’t realize was there. “My bad.” She muttered, opening her door. “I was just asking.”

As she began to step out, hand on the car door, he hit her again with that low, level voice.

“Don’t slam my door.”

Juicy paused, one foot on the curb, one hand still gripping the door. She stared at him over the top of the car, unblinking. No sass. Just that locked-in eye contact that always made the air thick between them. He knew her too well. Without a word, she eased the door shut—not too soft, not too rough—just enough pressure to make sure it caught and locked, but nothing close to a slam.

Stack smiled up at her as he got out and rounded the car, locking it behind him. “And I know you’re sorry, baby.” He dded, eyes playful. “I wasn’t yelling at you.”

That smug little smirk made Juicy roll her eyes again, but there was no heat behind it now—just a flutter in her chest that she refused to acknowledge. She turned without another word and made her way up to Mary’s porch, Stack only a few paces behind her.

Mary was already up the steps and in the home, letting herself into the house as if she lived alone as she waked to her on after a quick greeting to her mother. Juicy followed suit, opening the screen door and stepping into the familiar scent of lemon oil and hot grease.

“Hi, Missy.” She called out automatically, slipping off her shoes by the door like she always did.

Missy Boothe, Mary’s mother, was in the kitchen as usual, standing over a simmering skillet and humming something old-school under her breath. At the sound of Juicy’s voice, she turned from the stove with a warm smile.

“Hey, baby.” She said, her voice honeyed and sweet.

But her eyes immediately shifted past Juicy, going wide as she spotted the tall figure behind her.

“Oh, Elias!” She practically sung, her arms already opening as she came toward him. Stack grinned and stepped into the hug with ease, like he’d done it a hundred times before—because he had.

“Hey, Ms. Missy.” He said, wrapping his arms around the petite Southern woman, careful not to smother her with his size.

She pulled back just far enough to look up at him with adoration. “Just look at you.” She fussed, eyes shining. “You’ve grown your hair out again! And that skin is just glowing, boy. You look so handsome. So grown.”

Stack chuckled low in his throat, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I’ve just been outside, Ms. Missy. That’s all the glow you’re seeing, sweat.”

“Oh, hush that modesty.” She waved him off. “You and Elijah must be doing something right. Still keeping up with your cousin?”

“Yes, ma’am. He’s good.” Stack nodded, his voice softening with respect.

“That’s good. Well, you have got to come sit with me for a spell and tell me what you boys have been up to. Come on in here, let me fix you something.” She was already turning back to the kitchen, hand still gently latched around his wrist like she didn’t want him slipping away.

As she led him deeper into the house, Stack glanced back over his shoulder at Juicy. She hadn’t followed yet. She stood near the front room, watching the exchange with a small, unreadable smile on her lips. One that held warmth… and maybe just a hint of something else. A tenderness that surprised even her.

Missy Boothe was one of those women who made everyone feel like home. She’d known them since they were small children, always feeding them, always welcoming them in like they were her own. But Stack had a particular place in her heart. She’d always doted on him a little extra, claiming it was because he was so well-mannered, but Juicy suspected it was something else. Like the way his father treated him. He’d always been around. Showing up for more than just meals. Fixing things around the house. Walking Mary to the store when Missy couldn’t. Making sure her trash was taken out without even asking. That kind of presence made a mark.

She watched as Stack settled onto one of the barstools at the counter as Missy poured him a glass of sweet tea. She was talking a mile a minute now, and Stack was answering with polite hums and the occasional laugh that made his shoulders shake. Juicy watched them from the kitchen doorway, a soft smile on her face before she walked further into the house, leaving the man with the woman that adored him most.

Upstairs, Mary’s room was still the same explosion of color and chaos it had always been—posters of Dru Hill and B2K on the walls, an old Destiny’s Child CD case cracked open on the nightstand, and a tangled mess of clothes spilling from an overworked dresser. The window was cracked to let in the breeze, the lace curtains fluttering gently as the soft hum of a fan blew from the corner. It was just past noon, and the air smelled faintly of coconut oil and flat iron heat.

Juicy flopped onto Mary’s bed, laying on her stomach as she watched her friend rummage through her closet. Mary, dressed in a pink camisole and cutoff shorts, was talking to herself more than anyone, throwing tops over her shoulder and groaning dramatically.

“I swear I don’t have nothing to wear!” She exclaimed, stepping back and putting her hands on her hips.

“You have too much to wear.”Juicy countered, grabbing a red Baby Phat halter top off the bed beside her and holding it up. “You could pull this with your denim mini.” She suggested.

Mary turned and wrinkled her nose. “Girl, I wore that the last time I went out.”

“And nobody remembers but you.”

“I remember, and that’s what matters.” Mary said, then spun around with a grin. “But I know you’re not talking. You know you gon’ pull out that same lil’ rhinestone tee you always wear when you tryna be cute. The one that say ‘Spoiled’ on it.” She snickered.

Juicy narrowed her eyes, flipping her off playfully before burying her face in the comforter. “The shirts nice. Can’t help it if it makes my boobs look good.” She shrugged. Mary laughed and flopped down beside her. “Yeah, you’re tryna be cute. And make them look good for somebody.”

Juicy raised her head slowly. “What you mean?”

“I mean…” Mary’s grin grew wide and mischievous. “Keith gon’ be there tonight.”

Juicy’s face twitched—but only just. “I don’t care if Keith there.” She muttered.

“Mmmhmm.” Mary sing-songed. “You was all shy when he asked for your number last week. Actin’ like you ain’t like him back.”

“I didn’t give him my number.” Juicy mumbled, face buried in the pillow now.

“Yeah, ‘cause I was standing right there.” Mary laughed. “But I know you wanted to.”

Before Juicy could respond, the floorboards outside the room creaked. They both glanced up at the same time.

Stack leaned against the doorframe, shoulder pressed to the wood, arms folded across his chest. He hadn’t bothered knocking—he never did when it came to Mary’s house. He let his eyes trail lazily across the room until they landed on Juicy still lying on the bed, then flicked toward Mary with a lopsided grin.

“Keith, huh?” He questioned.

Juicy sat up fast, like she’d been caught red-handed. “Were you eavesdropping?” She asked.

“I just walked in.” He said, pushing off the doorframe. “Y’all was talkin’ like I wasn’t even here.”

Mary, unfazed, gave him a look. “Yeah, because you wasn’t here a second ago.”

Stack turned to Juicy, narrowing his eyes a little. “So who this Keith dude?” He asked, going back to the subject.

Juicy avoided his gaze. “Ain’t nobody important.” She shrugged.

“Seem like somebody.” His tone was light, teasing even, but there was a sharpness just beneath the surface. His eyes didn’t leave hers, though she didn’t look at him, Mary, still oblivious, perked up as she sorted through more clothes. “He’s the boy that helped us bring the sodas to some function last week, he went and picked them up for the free. Real polite. And cute too—Juicy even said it.”

“Mary…” Juicy warned, her voice low.

“What?” Mary said with a shrug. “He’s nice. You blushed when he said you smelled good.”

“You know that my favorite compliment.” The darker skinned girl mumbled, crossing her arms. Stack looked at Juicy, face unreadable and jaw ticking ever so slightly. “You like him?” He asked.

Juicy met his eyes but only for a second before glancing away, her voice suddenly clipped. “No.”

Mary snorted. “You do. You just don’t wanna admit it ‘cause he quiet and not all hard like—”

“I don’t like him.” Juicy cut her off sharply, more forcefully this time, her eyes flicking to Stack’s.

He studied her closely now, catching the shift in her tone, the way her shoulders stiffened a bit and how she wouldn’t look at him. Something about her denial felt too practiced, too deliberate. Like she wanted him to hear it, believe it—need him to.

Mary didn’t seem to notice. She was still talking, still pulling tops and jeans and accessories. But Stack… he was locked in on Juicy. And the longer she avoided his gaze, the more his protectiveness stirred.

“Just curious.” He said finally, voice dropping a notch. “I don’t know the dude. If he weird or got a rep, I need to know.”

Juicy shook her head. “He’s not weird. And he don’t got a rep.”

“So he just a regular dude… interested in you.” Stack said, stepping further into the room.

Juicy sat up straighter, furrowing her brows at him. “Yeah?” She said. “Why does that sound like a problem?”

“It doesn’t.” He said simply, but his eyes told a different story. “Just don’t like niggas coming around who ain’t got good intentions.”

“And who’s to say he don’t?”

Stack smirked a little but didn’t answer. His silence said enough.

Mary finally caught the shift in energy, turning from her closet with a raised brow. “Okay, why does it feel like y’all are arguing over a boy that neither of y’all dating?”

“I’m not arguing,” Juicy muttered, sliding off the bed. “Ain’t nobody checking for Keith.”

“Exactly.” Stack said, but softer now. His voice didn’t carry the same edge. He watched her brush past him toward the door, like she needed some air. And when she left, Mary gave Stack a look that held just the slightest suspicion.

“You ain’t never asked me about no other boy before.” She said.

Stack’s jaw flexed. “Cause you can take care of yourself. I taught you that.” He said. “She’s…I have to look out for her.” He said, but even he didn’t believe it. Not all the way.

Because when it came to Juicy, looking out always felt a little too close to holding on.

Mary finally ended up settling on a teal crop top with rhinestone straps and a pair of low-rise jeans that hugged her hips just right. After a playful back-and-forth, Juicy finally came back and Stack was back in the kitchen. Juicy claimed a vintage red mesh top with long sleeves and a white tank underneath that gave just the right ‘03 attitude. The girls had spent the last hour laughing, poking fun, dancing to 106 & Park reruns in the background, and throwing clothes across the room like it was a sport.

Mary’s room looked like a dressing tornado had touched down—tops and skirts strewn across the bed, sneakers tossed into corners, and hangers hooked on anything that could hold them. Juicy stood in front of the mirror, smoothing her hands down the borrowed crop top, a snug baby pink number she’d snagged from Mary’s drawer the moment she saw it.

“You sure you don’t want this one back?” She asked, turning with a sly smile.

Mary grinned from where she knelt on the floor, digging through a pile of shorts. “Nah, it looks better on you anyway. Plus, I’m tryna go a little tomboy cute tonight. Let folks know I got range.”

Juicy laughed and adjusted the hem of the top. “I still can’t believe you keep clothes like this tucked away. What else you got hiding in this closet, Mary Poppins?”

Mary tossed a pair of high-waisted denim shorts at her and stood. “Years of thrift and heartbreak, that’s what. You look cute, girl.” Mary said, admiring Juicy’s reflection in the mirror as she tucked one side of her shirt behind her belt loop.

“You think?” Juicy asked, checking herself out with a slight turn.

“I know. Keith might choke on his words if he see you like that.” Mary teased, bumping her with her hip.

“Don’t start.” Juicy warned, grabbing her flip phone and slipping it into her back pocket. “I’m tryna skate, not entertain.”

By the time they made it downstairs, dusk was slipping through the windows, casting the living room in a warm honey-glow. They laughed all the way down the hall, the sound of their sneakers and flip-flops echoing against the hardwood. The smell of baked chicken and cornbread drifted from the kitchen where Missy was pulling something from the oven. She was a sharp woman, always dressed even when she was home, with earrings in her ears and her hair pinned up with care.

“Where y’all headed?” She asked, glancing over her shoulder. “To the rink.”Mary answered, swinging into the kitchen to grab a bottled water. “Me and Juicy. It’s ladies’ night so we get in for free.”

Missy arched a brow, her lips already curling with suspicion. “Who all gonna be there?”

“Just us.” Mary said with a shrug. Missy turned to look directly at Juicy, a woman-to-woman kind of look, as if she knew her daughter could get a little wild sometimes, but Juicy? She trusted Juicy. Still…

Juicy stepped forward. “We’re not doing anything crazy, Missy. Just skating, maybe a slice of pizza and back before midnight.”

Missy’s eyes narrowed just slightly, still unconvinced.

That’s when Stack’s voice cut in from behind. “Me and Smoke gon’ be there too, Miss Miss.” He said smoothly. “Ain’t nothin’ gone happen to them with us around.” He was lounging against the archway, arms folded and keys twirling on one finger, decided to chime in.

Missy turned to look at him, eyes softening a bit. “You and Elijah?”He nodded, stepping into view and flashing her that easy, boyish smile. “Yes, ma’am. Promise they’ll be good.”

“Well…”She said, resting a hand on her hip and looking from Juicy to Mary and back. “As long as y’all got some backup, I don’t see no problem with it. I know Juicy’s a good girl.”

Mary rolled her eyes dramatically. “Here we go…”

Missy leaned against the counter, folding her arms. “Juicy, baby, what you been up to now that school’s out?”She asked. Juicy tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Just… enjoying the break while I can. Taking it easy, having fun, you know?”

“Well, I hope not too much fun.” Missy said with a teasing tilt in her voice. Juicy groaned, throwing her head back while Mary cackled. “Missy…”

“Oh come on.” Mary waved her hand. “You know she’s not that kind of girl.”

“I know, I know.” Missy said with a nod. “But I also know how these boys around here get. They see a sweet girl like you and think they can play you.”

“I’ll be fine.” Juicy said, her tone reassuring but calm.

Missy hummed, then tilted her head. “Speaking of, how’s it goin’ with that Powers boy? What’s his name—Kevin?”

“Keith.” Juicy and Mary corrected at the same time.

Stack raised an eyebrow, cutting a look toward Juicy, as well as Mary, who avoided their eyes. “Mm.” Stack muttered under his breath, eyes sliding over Juicy’s figure.

Missy chuckled. “Right, Keith! How’s he doin’? I know he’s sweet on you. I’ve seen the way that boy look at you when he mowin’ that lawn. Almost broke his neck tryin’ to catch a glimpse.”

Juicy sighed, her smile bashful and soft as she avoided Stack’s gaze. “I think he’s doing fine.”

“You think?” Missy prodded.

Juicy shrugged. “Yeah, I mean, we’re not together. We barely even talk. He’s just… around. I don’t know why everyone’s so pressed about who I’m supposedly dating.”

“Because you’re a nice girl.” Missy said plainly, “And nice girls should have nice young men in their corner.”

“Well, I’m not interested in none of that right now,” Juicy replied gently. “I’m going to school and getting my degree. That’s the goal.”

Missy nodded thoughtfully, her tone softening. “I hear you. But don’t work so hard you forget to enjoy yourself. Everybody needs somebody in their corner. Even the strong girls.”

“I am enjoying myself.” Juicy said, her voice just as gentle.

Their eyes met for a moment, the quiet between them holding weight. Missy smiled then, a glint of pride flashing in her eyes, just before something else crossed then as she looked at the girl.

“Have you talked to your parents?” She asked after a pause.

“Mama.” Mary hissed, shooting her mom a warning look as Juicy stiffened slightly. Stack eyed the women, wondering why was going on.

“What?” Missy said, raising her hands. “I’m just asking. I talked to Serena this morning—”

“It’s okay,” Juicy cut in smoothly. “Uh, no, I haven’t spoken to them in a bit, but it’s just been… you know, school. Finals. Everything’s been a blur. I’ll reach out soon, though.” She reassured, but wanting nothing more than that part of the conversation to be over. Stack eyes the girl, seeing the way she had stiffened at the mention of her parents.

Missy hummed again, slow and understanding. “Alright. Long as you do.”She then clapped her hands once and pointed toward the door. “Now go on. Get dressed, go skate, and have some clean fun. Y’all hear me?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Both girls said at the same time, heading for the door.

Missy turned to Stack on their way out. “And you better come visit me again soon. Bring Elijah with you. I got questions for that boy.”

Stack grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”

As the screen door creaked open and the sun spilled across the porch, Juicy caught herself thinking—still feeling the heat of Missy’s words, of Stack’s lingering gaze, and the weight of everything unspoken hanging between them.

════════════ ⭑.ᐟ ════════════

By the time the sun had started its lazy descent behind the neighborhood rooftops, the girls were back at Juicy’s house with Stack pulling into her driveway like he belonged there. He cut the engine, and hopped out of the car, just as Smoke came out of the Hall home, watching as Juicy and Mary dashed past him.

“We taking them to the rink now.” Stack said, watching the girls disappear into the house. He watched as Smoke’s face morphed into one of annoyance, but he continued before his brother could express his discontent verbally. “I promised Missy I’d keep an eye on them. You in? Cause I know you ain’t got none better to do.”

Smoke shot him a look. “Yeah, whatever nigga.” He said.

They crossed the street to their place, casual and unbothered, stepping into the familiar scent of cologne and laundry detergent. The music thumping faintly from Stack’s room gave the air a soft pulse while the boys got changed—nothing fancy, just fresh fits and cologne. They weren’t skating, but they weren’t about to show up looking like they didn’t belong either.

By the time they were back outside, posted in the car and waiting, the sky had shifted to blue, the street lights casting long shadows across the pavement. The car windows were rolled down halfway, the breeze just enough to cool the sweat off their necks. They didn’t say much—just let the music play and kept an eye on the house.

An hour passed before the front door opened again.

Juicy stepped out first, her curves hugged by denim jeans and a tight off-the-shoulder top the color of blush wine. Her skin caught the soft shimmer of the porch light, collarbones on display and hair done up in that effortless way that still looked like it took forever. Mary trailed after her in a cute, more sporty outfit—a cropped tee Juicy had let her borrow and a skirt with built-in shorts underneath.

Smoke leaned forward. “That’s them?” He asked, since he couldn’t quite see the door from the page her seat,

“That’s them.” Stack said with a little smile, unlocking the doors. “Hop in.” He called out to them.

The girls jogged up to the car, Juicy opening the back door on Smoke’s side with a teasing smirk. “Y’all wasn’t gon’ leave without us, right?”

“You know I wouldn’t dream of it.” Smoke said, sliding his phone into his pocket.

The ride to the rink was filled with soft music and low chatter, the windows cracked to let in the cooling night air. The city was still humming—streetlights flickering, kids biking down sidewalks, couples walking hand in hand, and the occasional honk from a car passing through a yellow light. It was summer energy—slow but charged, with laughter always somewhere in the background.

By the time they reached the rink, the parking lot was alive with it. Cars lined up like a pop-up car show—hoods open, music blasting, boys leaned back on their trunks with drinks in hand and girls circling like butterflies. The smell of hot food, cherry slushies, and lit blunts hung thick in the air. Laughter mixed with the low thrum of bass-heavy music and the metallic clang of skates hitting pavement.

Martin and the crew were already there, posted on the hoods of their cars, chopping it up like they ran the block.

“There go our people.” Smoke nodded, gesturing toward them.

“You go on.” Stack said, looking back at the girls. “We’ll meet y’all inside.”

“Say less.”Mary said, hand in hand with Juicy as she led them to the building while the men were already veering toward Martin and the crew.

Juicy and Mary stepped into the rink like they’d done it a thousand times before—confident, cute, and catching attention. Inside, the air was cooler, tinged with sweat and slushie syrup, the wooden floors gleaming under the multicolored lights that spun in slow circles above. The DJ booth was lit up, music flowing loud but smooth, classic 2000s R&B remixes with just enough bass to keep the rhythm.

Near the tables by the rink, Sharee and the girls from earlier were lounging, drinks in hand and skates already laced up, legs stretched across benches. The moment they spotted Mary and Juicy, they perked up.

“Heeyy!” Sharee waved, sliding out from behind the table with practiced ease. “Look who finally showed up.”

“You know we had to get cute first.” Juicy teased, laughing.

“You didn’t have to try that hard.” One of the other girls said, eyes sweeping Juicy’s figure. “Damn, girl.”

Mary bumped her shoulder, grinning. “Told you this top was gon’ cause a problem.”

“Let’s get you laced up.” Sharee said, already pulling them toward the counter. “The floor’s live tonight.”

Back outside, Stack and Smoke dapped up Martin and the others. They leaned against hoods slick with the day’s heat, cooling drinks in hand and shoes crisp as new, now matter the scuffs they faced from the street. A few of the guys had new cuts, fresh white tees, gold glinting under the glow of streetlamps. They talked hoops, girls, and music—nothing deep, just that loud, layered kind of conversation that could only happen between boys who’d grown up together.

“You came out with Juicy?” One of Martin’s homeboys asked them, flicking ash off his blunt. They glanced at Martin, who was too busy rubbing up on some shock to even pay attention to their conversation.

Stack shrugged. “Yeah, she’s with Mary. Promised her mama I’d keep an eye out. Plus, it ain’t nothin’ wrong with a lil rink night.”

Smoke grinned. “Girls look too good to let ‘em come alone anyway.”

Everyone laughed, the night stretching wide in front of them like a scene from a coming-of-age movie, the kind where nothing big had to happen for it to feel unforgettable.

Inside, Juicy stepped onto the rink, her body finding the rhythm easily, hips swaying as she slid across the polished wood. The girls flanked her and Mary, all of them catching the music like they were made for it. Lights danced across their skin, and for a moment, the world outside the rink—the boys, the pressure, the expectations—melted away.

And it felt good.

The rink was buzzing, the air thick with the sugary scent of concession stand snacks and body spray. Colored lights flickered overhead in lazy circles, casting moving shadows over the skating bodies below. Music thumped with a throwback beat, and the floor pulsed under the weight of roller wheels. Girls glided in tight curves, boys tried to show off, and somewhere in the chaos, Mary and Juicy were exactly where they were supposed to be—together, laughing, skating fast and carefree.

But even in the haze of fun, it didn’t take long for the cracks to show

They’d met up with Sharee and the girls by the tables again, and as soon as Juicy and Mary sat down to catch their breath, the gossip started flowing like soda from the fountain machine.

“You see what Jaleesa got on?” One girl leaned over, dragging a French-tipped nail through her hair. “I know she saw that little muffin top when she looked in the mirror.”

“Girl, don’t play.” Another snickered. “She wore that on purpose, swear she thick now ‘cause she got some new jeans.”

Juicy raised her brows, sipping from her slushie with furrowed brows. Mary met her eyes with the same familiar look—Here we go.

They listened, half-engaged, nodding here and there, but it was the same old routine. The moment one of the girls left to go say hey to someone else, she became the next topic.

“Did y’all peep how Destiny keeps skating past Keith like she don’t seem him?”

“Mmhm, and acting like she didn’t cry when he stopped messing with her.”

“She was real loud last week talking about how she ‘don’t care about no boy’—now look.”

Juicy and Mary both leaned back a little. It wasn’t like they were innocent—hell, they had sharp tongues too, but something about the girls’ energy was just off. And it’s something they peered everyone they were asking the girls they considered acquaintances. It was loud and fake and dipped in desperation. The kind of thing you could only stomach in small doses.

Mary leaned over and whispered, “They so fake. And boy-crazy. Like, get a grip.”

“Girl.” Juicy said, voice dry. “You one to talk.”

Mary laughed. “I like men. That don’t mean I’m dumb about it.”

“No,” Juicy agreed, “You just use ‘em.”

“And they love it.” Mary flipped her hair and looked over the rink like a queen surveying her kingdom. “These chicks only keep us around ‘cause dudes still be thinkin’ I’m exotic or whatever.” She said in disgust. “Only white girl they ever seen with a little edge and ass.”

Juicy smirked. “And me?”

“Please. You know why, Miss Juicy. All them boys lookin’ at you like you a prize they ain’t won yet. You know every boy in here waitin’ for you to slip up and let one of ‘em get a taste.

Juicy rolled her eyes. “That’s ‘cause I ain’t let none of ‘em hit.”

“Exactly,” Mary said with a wink. “Mystery makes ‘em drool.” She smirked, taking a sip of her drink before starting again. “And they don’t even like each other for real.”

Juicy laughed low. “Tell me about it.”

“They just keep us around for clout.” Mary said, her voice only for Juicy as she scoffed in disgust.

Juicy rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it. She knew how they looked at her—especially now. She’d grown into herself, thick in the right places, cute with a touch of mystery, and still untouched. That part made them more curious. She hated it sometimes.

“You the main one they scared of.” Mary added, nudging her. “They’re trynna peep who you want and act accordingly for themselves.”

“Too bad none of ‘em will get anything from me.” Juicy said sweetly, standing up. “I need me something sweet.”

She rolled off on the carpet, coasting across the floor toward the concession stand. Her body moved with practiced grace, her skates soft against the rhythm of the music. The line was short, just two people in front of her, and soon she was at the counter, fingers tapping lightly as she placed her order.

“One strawberry cotton candy, please.” She said, already fishing out her few crumpled dollars.

And then, rolling up beside her on silent wheels, came Keith.

“Didn’t expect to see you off the floor.” He said with that easy, boyish smile that always lingered too long. Juicy looked over at him, trying not to grin but failing. “Didn’t expect to be stalked at the snack bar either.”

He laughed. “Stalked? I’m offended. This here’s just coincidence.”

“Mhm. Coincidence got you skating all the way over here, huh?” She questioned, waiting for the man to come back with her sweet treat. “I call that audacity.”

Before he could answer, the concession guy came back, handing Juicy her fluffy, pink cotton candy wrapped around a paper cone. Juicy reached into her pocket, but Keith slid his hand in first, already paying.

“Come on, Keith.” Juicy frowned, smacking his shoulder lightly. “I had that.”

“Nah, let me.” He said with a grin. “Sweet stuff for a sweet girl, ain’t that what they say?” He smirked, causing Juicy to side eye him, though the blush was undeniable. “Oh, you are so corny.”

“But you smiled, didn’t you?”

She tried not to, but the corners of her mouth betrayed her. “Barely.”

“So not funny, but corny and generous.” He said he said with a shrug, plucking a piece of her cotton candy before she could stop him.

“Boy, get your sticky hands out my—!” She laughed, trying to shield the candy, but he grinned through it, teasing her as they shared space there by the counter. “Oh, no sir. You didn’t even ask.”

He popped the bite in his mouth anyway, laughing. “Mmm. Tastes better when it’s yours.”

“You are triflin’.”Juicy muttered, spinning away, but she was grinning. And then, right on cue, Sammie’s voice came over the speakers, smooth as syrup and twice as slick:

“Alright, alright, alright. Y’all know what time it is—it’s 10 o’clock and that means love jams, baby. If you got you a lil somethin’ somethin’ or wanna get you a lil somethin’ somethin’—this is the part where you skate up close. We playin’ them slow ones now. Lovers only.”

The lights dimmed slightly, shifting to a warm red-and-purple glow, and the first slow song came on—“So Into You” by Tamia sliding in soft and sensual.

Keith looked over at Juicy, cotton candy still in hand, his smile tilting into something more. “You wanna skate with me?” He asked.

Juicy blinked, caught off guard. “What, like now?” She asked as she put a piece of cotton in her mouth.

He glanced at her lips as she sat and nodded. “What about my candy?” Juicy said. “I just got it. And I can’t have it in the rink.” She said, giving him a flat look, only for him to grin wider and say. “I’ll buy you another one. Maybe even two more.”

“You makin’ some big promises.” She said, eyes narrowed playfully.

“I’m good for it.” He smirked. And something about the way he said it—smooth, sure, not cocky but real—made her believe it.

She sucked her teeth, laughing. “You are somethin’ else.”

“You like it.” He said simply, holding out his hand.

“Please.” Juicy scoffed. The them look down at his hand, and she hesitated just a beat—long enough to feel that nervous flutter in her chest—but then she set her cotton candy down and took his hand, warm and sure in hers.

“Come on, Miss Hall.” He said, tugging her gently toward the rink as the beat throbbed and couples began pairing off under the dim, romantic glow.

And just like that, they rolled out together, hands locked, the world around them fading for a little while as Tamia sang softly overhead and the air spun slow with sweet summer magic.

Juicy and Keith were giggling like two kids sharing secrets, fingers laced as they rolled in unison across the floor, their skates moving in an easy rhythm.

Juicy’s cheeks were still a little pink, but it wasn’t from skating—it was from Keith leaning in too close, whispering nonsense in her ear that had her biting her lip to keep from smiling too wide. Every now and then, he tugged her hand to spin her, and though she wobbled, she laughed and let him pull her back, their fingers never losing contact.

They ignored the eyes, because there were eyes. Girls posted up by the benches, whispering and frowning behind manicured hands. Boys paused mid-glide to try and piece together who Keith was, and why Juicy—the thicker, glowing, and untouchably pretty girl—was giggling with that square. The looks were hot, heavy, and nosy, but neither of them paid it much mind. Not tonight.

Across the way, Mary had peeled off from the rink, gliding smoothly toward the concession stand with her usual sway, flipping her hair over her shoulder like she was walking a runway. Her eyes scanned the crowd lazily, but they sharpened the second she noticed a familiar figure at the entrance.

Smoke.

He walked in slow, scanning the place like he owned it, his eyes low but alert. He didn’t come to skate, not really. He’d told himself he was just checking in, that maybe Mary or Juicy needed a ride or an excuse to leave if things got too messy. But the truth was more complicated—more annoying to admit. He just wanted to see her. Juicy.

He clocked Mary first, her red lips curved into a knowing smile as she spotted him. She raised her hand and waved, but he barely gave a nod before his gaze drifted past her—to the rink.

And then he saw them.

Juicy.

And some dude.

Holding hands.

Skating like they were in a damn music video.

Smoke’s jaw tightened, not all the way, but enough that Mary caught it when she walked up beside him, sipping from Juicy’s forgotten cotton candy. “Didn’t know you were coming in tonight.” She said casually, leaning one hip against the wall.

Smoke didn’t answer right away. His eyes were locked on the couple on the rink that guy with his laid-back smile and cocky posture, Juicy with her radiant laugh and those soft brown thighs thick in her jeans as she spun around, smiling over her shoulder.

He didn’t recognize the boy. And he didn’t like that he didn’t recognize the boy.

“Who’s that?” He asked, still watching.

Mary licked a bit of cotton candy from her thumb, eyes twinkling. “Keith. We went to school with him, but he and Juicy’s dint started talking until a few months back. He been sniffin’ around since.”

“Yeah?” Smoke muttered, eyes narrowing slightly.

“She ain’t locked down with him or anything.” Mary said, a little too pleased. “Girls gotta skate with somebody.”

Smoke didn’t laugh. He crossed his arms, watching the way Keith spun Juicy one more time, then pulled her close so they glided side by side, nearly shoulder to shoulder, laughing about something only they could hear.

He wasn’t mad. Not really. But something settled low in his gut. Tight. Irritating.

He’d seen Juicy laugh before—she always had a laugh that felt like honey, thick and warm and sweet—but he hadn’t seen her laugh like that for another dude.

That was his girl.

Except she wasn’t.

He had only just gotten back and now he seemed to want this new version of Juicy he was seeing before him. He was just like every other guy, but they had history. He knew her better than she knew herself, and he wanted her before any other guy could come along and ruin the beautiful woman she was becoming.

But since he’s been back, he’s never made a move. Never said anything. Just hovered in her space like a shadow, being there when she needed him, listening when she talked, watching when she wasn’t looking. And now, someone else had slipped into the light.

Smoke’s fingers twitched at his sides.

Mary, sensing the tension, leaned in a bit. “Stack’s been askin’ about her too.“ Smoke’s head turned slowly toward her, a frown tugging at his lip. “Stack?”

She shrugged, smirking. “What can I say? She’s a catch.”

He didn’t respond. Just stared back at the rink where Juicy and Keith moved in sync, the lights reflecting off her skin like she was glowing from the inside out.

Mary nudged him. “You wait too long, Smoke, someone else gon’ scoop her up. That girl is gold. Every boy in this building got their eye on her.”

Smoke didn’t look at Mary, but his voice dropped low, quiet.

“She don’t belong to nobody.”

Mary’s smirk grew. “Not yet.” She said.

They stood in silence for a moment, watching the two on the floor finish the song, Juicy still giggling as Keith led her to the edge of the rink. He said something that made her shake her head and laugh harder, brushing his hand off her shoulder in mock annoyance.

Smoke’s fingers curled loosely into fists at his sides. The lights dimmed again, a new slow jam beginning to play. He watched Keith lean down, whisper something in her ear, and watched her smile, wide and unguarded.

Smoke didn’t move. Didn’t storm over. He wasn’t up for a show like that at the moment. But his jaw locked, and his gaze darkened, his stance quiet and unreadable. Mary tilted her head, watching him. “She ain’t picked yet, y’know.” She said, and Smoke finally glanced her way, catching the grin she was giving him. “But they sure tryna make her.”

And with that, she stepped away, cotton candy in hand, hips swaying back toward the crowd, leaving Smoke alone at the entrance, still watching Juicy like she was his favorite secret.

The music began to fade, the rink’s lights lifting into a lazy spin overhead, casting a golden shimmer across the floor. Juicy and Keith slowed to a halt, still holding hands, breathless from skating and laughing. She gave him a soft smile, her hand slipping from his fingers as they made their way off the rink, shoes tapping back onto solid ground.

Just before they could grab their seats or even decide what came next—maybe snacks, maybe a few more laps—Smoke appeared.

Before Keith could speak, before Juicy could even brace herself, Smoke’s hand wrapped gently but firmly around her wrist. He didn’t say a word, didn’t spare Keith a glance, and pulled her away as if he’d been looking for her all night.

“Hey—” Keith started, but stopped when Juicy gave him a small smile over her shoulder, eyes soft, waving her fingers as if to say, It’s okay. I know him.

She did.

Even if she didn’t always know what to do with him.

“Who is that?” Smoke asked, low and rough, not even glancing back at her as they moved. Juicy stumbled slightly on her wheels, nearly losing her balance.

She huffed. “Smoke—”

But instead of shaking him off, she reached out and wrapped her arms around his waist from behind, resting her chin just barely against his shoulder. He didn’t let go right away, but her warmth did something to him—made his grip shift, his hands finding a resting place on her hands that were placed on his abdomen as she coasted behind him. She wasn’t walking. Wasn’t skating. Just letting him pull her along like he was gravity and she was the moon.

“Why is that any of your business?” She asked, voice drowsy with irritation.

Smoke slowed a little but didn’t stop. “Because you are my business.” He said, tone flat but firm. “And I asked politely.”

Juicy sighed, eyes rolling so hard it was a miracle they didn’t fall right out her head. These twins—always in her damn orbit.

“That’s Keith.” She muttered.

Smoke veered toward one of the booths near the edge of the rink, dragging her the last few feet before sliding in without asking. She didn’t sit across from him. Not yet. She stood there, leaning her weight on the table, hovering like some storm he couldn’t ignore. Her brown skin glistened with a thin sheen of sweat, and her denim jeans gripped her thick thighs in a way that made Smoke’s gaze flick there—just for a second—before dragging itself back to her face.

“And who’s Keith?” He asked, tone deceptively neutral. Juicy blinked, arms crossed. “What do you mean, who is he?”

Smoke tilted his head, voice a little sharper now. “Who are his folks? What’s he do? How you know him?”

Juicy raised a brow. “Is he my boyfriend now?”

“That too.” He said, calm, but unblinking.

Juicy took a breath and finally plopped into the booth across from him, sliding in slow, arms still crossed beneath her chest. Her legs stretched out under the table, brushing against his.

“He’s from Clinton. The Powers people.” She began, tone clipped. “His daddy owns that car wash off Main and his mama runs the beauty shop next door. I sweep floors there on Saturdays. He’s got other folks—one granddaddy’s a preacher, the other’s a retried principle, I think. Keith’s a sophomore at Morehouse. Same year as me, but he came back for the summer.”

Smoke listened, his face unreadable, only the slow tightening of his jaw betraying how closely he was taking it all in.

Juicy kept going. “We went to Provine together. Barely talked. He played basketball. His sister was prom queen. But when he came back about a month ago, we started talking a little. Nothin’ serious. He brought his boys down to see what Mississippi life is like.”

Smoke raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“And what?”

“He your boyfriend?”

Juicy gave a dry little chuckle. “No. And I don’t think I’m interested either.”

He leaned back a little, arms stretching over the back of the booth. “What do you mean, you think?”

“I mean what I said.” Juicy’s gaze dipped for a second, her voice losing some of its edge. “He’s cool. Sweet, even. But I don’t know. Something about him feels more… friend-like.”

Smoke nodded slowly, lips twitching like he wanted to smile but didn’t. He looked up at her fully now, meeting her gaze as she halfway sat up on the table, the curve of her body framed by the light above.

Juicy tilted her head, eyeing him.

“Why are you and Stack so interested in who I’m dating, huh?” She asked, a teasing edge returning to her voice. “What? Y’all interested or something?”

Smoke didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink.

“In you?” Be asked, voice low. “Yeah.”

Juicy froze.

For a beat, she wasn’t sure she heard him right. Her lips parted, brows knitting together just slightly. “Huh?” She asked, breath quieter than before.

Smoke licked his lips, never taking his eyes off her. “You heard me.”

The air between them thickened, her heart skipping a beat even though she didn’t want it to. He was sitting there, arms stretched like he wasn’t affected, but his eyes—those deep brown eyes—were watching her like she was the only thing he saw in the whole damn rink.

She stared at him, mouth still slightly open, heart thudding against her ribs like it wanted to leap out and slap her.

And then, softly—so softly—she smiled. Not wide. Not flirty. Just… soft.

Like maybe, just maybe, she’d been waiting for him to say it. “Smoke—” Juicy began, but Mary interrupted, her voice sharp as she rushed over to them.

“Sharee’s fighting some girl outside over Jarod.”

Juicy gasped, her eyes widening. “What?”

Mary grabbed her hand, pulling her toward the large windows overlooking the parking lot. They skated over, their wheels clacking against the floor, and pressed against the glass, trying to get a clear view, Smoke right behind them.

Outside, under the harsh glow of the parking lot lights, a crowd had gathered. Sharee was in the center, her hair wild, arms flailing as she shouted at another girl. The other girl, equally animated, was yelling back, her friends trying to hold her back. The tension was palpable, the crowd’s energy feeding the chaos.

Suddenly, fists flew. Sharee lunged, grabbing the other girl’s hair, pulling her down. The crowd erupted, some cheering, others trying to intervene. Men began to get involved, pushing and shoving, the fight escalating beyond control.

Juicy’s eyes scanned the crowd, her heart pounding. She spotted one of Donavan’s boys throwing a punch at one of Martin’s homeboys. Her stomach dropped. She knew what was coming.

She gasped, stepping back from the glass. Smoke stood behind her, his eyes fixed on the scene outside.

“Where you going?” He asked, his voice low.

“Martin’s out there.” She replied, trying to remove her skates. Smoke grabbed her arm, his grip firm. “You’re not going out into that bullshit.”

“My brother’s out there; something could pop off.”She scoffed, struggling against his hold.

“And he’s a grown-ass man who can make his own decisions.” Smoke hissed, tightening his grip. “What the hell are you gonna do, huh? Stop the fight? Yell?” His voice was as fine as he stare as she looked down at her.

Juicy paused, her eyes meeting his, fire blazing within them. Before she could respond, the sharp crack of gunshots rang out. Three shots, each one louder than the last.

She gasped, turning toward the window, but Smoke pulled her down, shielding her with his body. Mary dropped beside them, her hands over her head.

The rink fell silent, the music cutting off abruptly. Screams echoed from outside and inside as people scrambled for cover. Security rushed toward the exits, trying to restore order.

Amid the chaos, a familiar voice boomed over the commotion.

“Get yo ghetto asses on with this bullshit! Get the fuck outta here before I bust every last one of you!” Stack hollered, his voice cutting through the noise.

Smoke muttered under his breath, his eyes narrowing. Mary peeked over the window sill, her eyes wide with fear and curiosity.

The night had taken a dark turn, the once vibrant energy now replaced with tension and fear. Juicy clung to Smoke, her heart racing, unsure of what would come next.

The parking lot quieted in slow, tense waves, the smoke of chaos still lingering in the air like the fading scent of gunpowder. Tires squealed in the distance as the last of the scattered crowd peeled off, leaving only a few clusters behind—faces tense, adrenaline high.

Stack stepped through the roller rink doors, his presence commanding even without a word. He adjusted his oversized tee, slipping his piece back into the waistband of his jeans. The music hadn’t resumed. The rink was silent now, a thick hush of unease draped over everyone still inside.

His eyes scanned the crowd until they found Juicy crouched behind one of the snack counters, her curls wild, jaw clenched. Just as he opened his mouth to ask if she was okay, she pushed past him—skates gone, socks damp on the rink floor—and made a beeline for the exit.

Smoke was leaning against the wall nearby, arms folded. He met Stack’s glance and simply shrugged.

Mary, quick to catch on, stumbled after Juicy. “Ju!” she called out, struggling to keep up with her determined pace.

But Juicy had her eyes locked on someone else.

Her feet hit the pavement outside like a warning shot. “Are you fucking crazy?!” She snapped the moment her gaze landed on Martin, who was leaning against a car, arms crossed like he hadn’t just helped set the whole block on fire, cloths a little disheveled from the brief scrap he’d gotten into.

Martin sucked his teeth, clearly over it already. “Not now, Ju.”

“Not now?” She echoed, her voice rising. Her fists were balled at her sides, brows knitted in fury. “Not now?! Nigga, it obviously is now since you and these other dumbass niggas out here startin’ shit!”

Before Martin could even respond, Smoke and Stack jogged up from behind her, Smoke with her shoes in his hands, the gravel crunching beneath their sneakers. The streetlights cast long shadows, and the night felt heavier than ever.

“What the fuck is your problem, Martin?” Juicy went on, unrelenting. “Out here fighting—for fucking what? That shit didn’t even have anything to do with you!”

Martin’s jaw twitched. His hands dropped from his chest as he stepped forward, the tension between them flaring like fire to oil. “And it definitely ain’t got shit to do with you! So just shut the fuck up!” He pulled as she walked up on her.

Juicy reeled her head back, stunned at his tone and the way he was approaching her. The insult didn’t sting so much as the threat behind it did.

“Oh, so what, nigga?” She barked. “You were gonna hit me?!”

Smoke was already stepping between them, one firm hand on Martin’s chest. “Chill, Mar.” He said evenly, nudging him back just enough to plant a line in the dirt.

Martin’s nostrils flared. “All you fucking do is butt into shit that ain’t got shit to do with you! I’m handling my shit like a grown-ass man!”

“Handling it?!” Juicy yelled, the two of them shouting over each other now. “You tryna act hard in front of these broke-ass bitches with no fucking life, huh?! These fucking bums! You gonna put your fucking hands on me, huh?! That’s what you’re doing now?!”

“Juicy,” Mary whispered, catching up and tugging on her arm. “It’s okay.” Her voice was soft, but her grip was steel. She was trying to hold the girl back, to reel her in before it really got out of hand.

But it was already too late.

“Yeah, get your bitch before she gets her ass whooped.” A voice piped up from the sidelines.

Everyone turned.

A light-skinned girl stood next to Martin, arms folded, lip gloss gleaming under the streetlight. No one remembered her name—just that she was Martin’s latest. The flavor of the month. The disrespect in her voice was enough to turn the air toxic.

Juicy’s eyes snapped to her like a trigger being pulled. “Girl, shut the fuck up. Wasn’t nobody talking to you, bitch.” She spat.

The girl straightened. “Who you calling a bitch?”

“You, bitch!”Juicy and Mary said in perfect unison.

“Martin, you better get your sister and her lil’ friend.” The girl sneered. Martin looked at her like she had just spat on his momma’s grave. “Louie, shut the fuck up and mind your damn business.”

The air cracked with tension. The vibe was off, and everyone felt it.

That one sentence set everything off again. A whole new layer of commotion buzzed to life—heated glares, muttered curses, the tension between family and outsiders now reaching a boiling point. The looks from Stack, Smoke, even Mary—all shot straight toward Louie with collective disdain.

Juicy stepped forward again, but this time Smoke grabbed her from the side, lifting her by the waist with practiced ease. “Nah, baby. That ain’t worth it.” He murmured, his voice low and soothing in her ear even as his eyes stayed locked on Martin. He was handling it—but only barely.

“Let me go!” Juicy shouted, still swinging as he hauled her backward toward the car.

Mary wasn’t far behind, shouting over her shoulder, “Nah, you better watch your fucking mouth, you tired-ass hoe!”

“Bitch, who even are you?” Juicy spat over Smoke’s shoulder.

Louie opened her mouth again, but this time Stack got involved, stepping between the girls and throwing up his hands.

“Enough!” He barked, his tone sharp, slicing through the mess. “Y’all out here lookin’ real fucking dumb right now.”

Finally, after enough huffing and yelling and near blows, Smoke and Stack wrangled the two angry girls back into the car they came in. Mary got in first, pulling Juicy in behind her while still shooting death glares at Louie.

Martin, left to handle the foolish woman he was still stupidly sleeping with, didn’t say much else. Just shook his head, muttering something under his breath while Louie scoffed and rolled her eyes, clearly still not getting it.

The parking lot fell back into uneasy silence. Whatever heat had ignited earlier had burned itself down to embers—but the damage had been done. Lines had been drawn. And Juicy, still seething as the car door shut beside her.

The ride to Mary’s place was quiet, tired but quiet, the kind that settled in after long nights full of heat and mess and words better left unsaid. Smoke sat in the backseat, gazing out of the window as he smoked while Stack drove, hands loose on the wheel. Mary leaned forward between the seats from the passenger side, breaking the silence with a soft voice.

“I’m not staying over tonight.” She said. “Gotta be up early to help my mama shop.”

Juicy, nestled in the corner behind Stack, turned her head and smiled. “Call me. I’ll come with. Ain’t got shit better to do tomorrow.”

Mary grinned. “You sure?”

“I mean, I ain’t say I was reliable. But I’ll show up.”

They both laughed, their shared chuckles easing the final moments of the evening. Mary grinned. “Bet. I’ll call you after breakfast.”

When the car pulled up in front of her place, Mary opened the door, but before she stepped out, she and Juicy leaned toward each other, pressing cheek to cheek in their usual goodbye. A sweet ritual. One kiss each side, soft like sisters.

“Be safe.” Juicy murmured.

“You too.” Mary said, her eyes flickering toward Smoke for a second before hopping out. She offered a lazy wave, then disappeared behind her gate.

The silence returned as Stack finished the drive, turning down their block, the tires crunching soft under the gravel. They pulled up in front of their house, and the car shifted into park. Juicy reached for the door handle before Stack even turned off the engine.

“I’m out.” She said, already stepping out.

“I’m gonna walk her.” Smoke told Stack, nodding toward her as he slid across the backseat and stepped out himself. Stack gave a simple nod, already leaning back in the driver’s seat, half-asleep.

It was silent as the pair walked, and it wasn’t until Juicy was halfway up the porch steps when she looked over at him. “You know you didn’t have to walk me. I’m literally right across the street.” She said. The air was cooler than before, the night settling into its stillest hour.

“I know.” Smoke said, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets. “But I’m just looking out for you.”

“I don’t need that. I’m fine.” She replied, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

He glanced at her, lips quirking. “I don’t know. Based on today? I’m sure you can handle yourself, but I don’t know if you should.” He quipped. And Juicy let out a short laugh, her breath fogging up in the night air. “You’re a mess.”

Silence hung between them again, thicker this time. He looked at her, really looked at her—like he could see beneath the tough exterior and find the girl who once used to braid ribbons into her curls and laugh with her whole chest.

“You got a key?” Smoke asked, breaking the quiet.

She blinked, pulled from her thoughts. “Uh, yeah.” She patted down her jean pockets, checking front, then back. ”…Somewhere.”

“If you don’t, you can always crash with us.” He offered casually. “There’s more than enough room, and I don’t want you waking Sinclair trying to get someone to open up.”

She laughed again, patting her back pocket now. “It’s okay. Here it is.”

Smoke watched her pull the key ring free, his mind drifting for a second when she turned around, her figure bending just slightly to line the key up with the locc since she couldn’t see that well in the dark without her glasses.

Couldn’t feel the key with all that ass back there, he thought, mouth twitching before he quickly checked himself, eyes raising the second she turned back to him. She looked soft again. The fire from earlier was gone, her stress dimmed like the rest of the night. Her eyes glimmered in the moonlight, lashes long and glossy lips catching what little light was left. Her voice broke the moment.

“Goodnight.” She said gently.

“Goodnight.” He replied, his voice low and a little rough.

Juicy started to push the door open but hesitated, turning to look back. Smoke was already descending the steps, his shoulders broad, head ducked, like he’d made peace with leaving.

“Smoke.” She called, stopping him.

He paused on about the third step, glancing back. “Yeah?”

Juicy lingered in the doorway. Her lips parted like she had something to say, but nothing came out. Her fingers played with the edge of her jacket sleeve. He noticed her nerves instantly.

“What is it, Ju?” He asked, brow narrowing in concern and stepping one foot up.

She swallowed. “Did you mean what you said?”

Smoke blinked. “What I said?” He questioned.

“Earlier.” She began softly. “At the rink. Did you mean it?”

There was a long pause—pregnant, heavy, something sitting thick between them that neither wanted to name just yet. The kind of silence that tugged on heartstrings and made the air feel full of something tender.

“I did.” He said simply. His voice was honest. Steady.

Juicy’s eyes fluttered once. Then something cracked open inside her, soft and trembling. She stepped forward without thinking, crossing the space between them in two strides and threw her arms around his neck, her lips landing on his in a kiss that felt like a storm giving way to calm. Her feet stayed on the porch while he stood a step below her, but he reached up for her like he’d been waiting.

His hands landed on her waist, a bit of warm skin meeting his fingers where her shirt had lifted. The contact was electric, but the kiss was affectionate—slow, meaningful. Her hand curled behind his head, thumb brushing over the waves at the nape of his neck.

The kiss was tentative. It was full of the quiet ache of wanting someone for a long time but never knowing if you could say it out loud. Her lips pressed against his like they belonged there, her body warm against his as she stood a step above him. His hands found her waist instantly, skin meeting skin where her shirt had ridden up, and he breathed her in.

Juicy’s hand found the back of his head, fingers threading into his waves. The kiss deepened, languid and tender, a slow dance of mouths and want and words they couldn’t say.

When they broke apart, the need for air becoming undeniable, Smoke didn’t move—just stared into her eyes, dazed. Her gloss left a faint trace on his lips, and she looked at it before meeting his gaze again.

“I feel the same.” She whispered, rubbing her nose against his.

He blinked, stunned for a beat. Smoke didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. catching her lips again in a kiss that was heavier, needier. His hands slid lower, resting just above the swell of her ass as her own hand tugged him closer. Juicy hummed into the kiss, and he swallowed the sound like a promise.

When they broke apart again, they couldn’t stop pecking each other’s lips—one, two, three soft kisses shared like a secret. Soft, delayed kisses, forehead to forehead, breath to breath, her eyes closed, and his stayed on her. She looked peaceful, and for a second, it felt like the world had gone quiet just for them.

Finally, Juicy leaned back, her palms resting lightly on his shoulders. “Have a good night, okay?”

Smoke nodded, and so did she. She leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, then turned and opened her door. Before disappearing, she looked back over her shoulder.

He was still watching her, eyes tender.

She smiled bashfully, locking the door behind her. Smoke lingered on the steps for a moment, heart still racing, lips still tingling. He exhaled through his nose, smiled to himself, and made his way back home across the street.

Everything felt different now. Everything felt like something had finally begun.

They would’ve stayed like that all night if the world would’ve let them.

But Juicy slowly pulled back, hands drifting to his shoulders. She looked into his face, eyes half-lidded and warm. “Have a good night, okay?”

Smoke nodded, his throat tight. “Yeah. You too.”

She leaned in one last time, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. He didn’t move until she slipped inside, the door closing softly behind her. She paused just before locking it, her bashful smile the last thing he saw before the bolt slid home.

Smoke stood there for a moment longer, staring at the closed door. Then he exhaled through his nose, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, and made his way across the street in silence.

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐭 & 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 🗑️ 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐞 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬★ ★ ★ ★ ★

The sun had begun its slow descent behind the rooftops of the neighborhood, painting the sidewalk in streaks of orange. The old wood of the Hall family porch creaked gently beneath their weight, and the heavy scent of weed hung in the air, thick and warm like the summer itself.

Mary lounged in the wicker chair, her curls pulled up high with a pencil sticking out the back. Smoke, ever the picture of calm, sat on the porch swing in a man spread, puffing on w joint with one tucked behind his ear. Stack, sat on the porch floorboards, legs laid out as he rolled the blunt between his fingers with the same precision he used on car engines. Juicy rocked gently on the porch swing, wearing a cropped Baby Phat tee and cotton shorts that hugged her hips just right, her glossed lips pursed as she blew smoke toward the sky from the blunt Smoke passed her.

They didn’t say much—just passed the blunt, breathed in the heat and let the wind do what little it could.

“Hey.” Mary spoke suddenly, flicking ash from the joint onto the rim of the pot by her foot. “Y’all heard about that pool party over at the rec center tomorrow? I think Tyrell and ‘nem throwin’ it. Word is they got a DJ this time.”

Juicy let out a soft hum and pulled her legs under her on the swing, already imagining the scene. Shirtless men with water guns, music blasting, somebody bringing their cousin who couldn’t dress, and the ice cream man pulling up just in time to cause drama.

“I ain’t heard about that.” Smoke replied, voice smooth and distant, like he already knew where this was headed.

“Well, we’re going.” Mary declared, gesturing between her and Juicy. “I told Megan we’d slide through for a bit.”

Stack gave a little grunt from his place on the floorboards. “Damn. Guess we’re goin’ then.”

Juicy perked up at that, turning toward the boys with a grin. “Y’all coming with us?”

Reluctant nods came from both twins—mild annoyance coated in curiosity. Juicy smirked, satisfied. “Well shoot.” She said, pushing herself up from the swing with a small bounce. “Now I gotta get myself together before tomorrow.”

Smoke arched a brow, glancing over his shoulder at her. “What you mean ‘get together’?”

“Gotta get my nails done, toes, hair—maybe pick out a new suit.”

Stack lifted his head just a bit, blinking up at her through lashes thick as trouble. “Didn’t you just get your nails done last Friday?”

Juicy tilted her head, one hand on her hip. “Yeah, but I need something new. You know I like my designs. Everybody’s already seen these.”

Stack didn’t even smile. He just exhaled a stream of smoke and said. “Only you payin’ attention to that.”

“Oh, and apparently you too, stalker.” She shot back, a little giggle slipping out before she could catch it.

Stack turned his head fully toward her now, blowing smoke through his nose with that same calm, hungry gaze. “You wish I stalked you.”

Her breath caught for just a second, her lip curling up in surprise. “You’d like that.”

“I would.” Stack said smoothly. “You’d like that.”

Juicy’s eyes widened, a soft gasp leaving her lips. “What? Nuh uh.” She muttered, half-turned away, trying to play it off. “Well… I’d probably be flattered. But I wouldn’t enjoy it.”

That’s when Mary stood up and stretched, letting out a little groan. “Let’s go, Ju. You know if we don’t get there soon, we ain’t gon’ get a spot.”

Juicy followed, snatching her bag off the porch railing. The girls headed toward Missy’s car, Mary jangling the keys as they walked down the steps.

“Where y’all goin’?” Smoke asked suddenly, his voice sharper than usual. It wasn’t the question—it was the way he asked it. Watchful. Protective.

Juicy turned around with a pointed look, her lips shiny and slightly smirking. “Uh! You’re stalking too. Is that y’all’s thing now? Stalking me?”

“Yeah.” Stack said without hesitation, that devilish look in his eye. Smoke stayed quiet, but his eyes stayed on her, low and unreadable.

“Where?” He asked again, tone clipped now.

Juicy rolled her eyes a little at his shift. “I told you! I gotta get my nails did. Now you’re making me late to a walk-in appointment I haven’t set yet.”

Her arms folded across her chest, the attitude sliding into her tone before she even noticed. She glanced between them. Smoke’s stoic stare, Stack’s crooked smirk, and added quickly, “And no, we don’t need a ride. We got Missy’s car. Are we done here?”

There was then a pause, brief, but heavy. Smoke didn’t say anything. His gaze didn’t soften. That familiar warmth he usually reserved for her had gone cool, and she felt it in her chest more than she expected.

Stack, though… Stack had the nerve to look entertained. He liked her sharp tongue. He liked how her voice pitched up when she got annoyed. There was a ghost of a smile on his lips when he said, “Yeah. We’re done.”

Juicy didn’t even know what to do with the flutter in her stomach, but she gave a little nod and turned away, making her way down the steps with Mary.

Once they slid into the car and Mary started the ignition, she cut her eyes at Juicy.

“They keep a tight leash on you.” She said, adjusting the rearview.

Juicy scoffed, twisting her mouth and buckling her seatbelt. “I guess they try to do that since Martin can’t, but no. I keep a tight leash on them. They don’t run me.”

Mary just laughed and pulled out of the driveway. “You keep tellin’ yourself that, girl.”

As they drove away, Juicy dared one last glance back at the porch. Smoke was still sitting, still watching, his eyes unreadable under the glow of the setting sun. Stack was now leaned against the banister, mouthing something to his brother—but she didn’t need to hear it to know.

They might not run her.

But they were running through her mind all the same.

════════════ ⭑.ᐟ ════════════

The nail shop had the unmistakable scent of acrylic and coconut oil, the low hum of fans swirling semi-cool air through the room as the girls settled into their usual pedicure chairs. A wall-mounted TV played 106 & Park on low volume, the sounds of a summer hit barely audible over the buzz of foot files, laughter, and idle chitchat. Juicy and Mary were regulars at Tipz & ToeZ, a pink-and-white storefront tucked between a beauty supply and an old fried fish joint.

They knew their techs by name—Tina and Mimi—who already had their tubs filled with warm water by the time they walked in. Flip-flops slid off, pants rolled up, and legs dipped into swirling bubbles. As Juicy sank back into her seat with a satisfied sigh, Mimi leaned over and plucked at her ankle.

“You let too much time go,” Mimi teased in her usual sing-song tone. “Nail polish chipping.”

“Girl, you act like I walk barefoot in the streets,” Juicy joked, giggling. “That’s just my summer hustle feet.”

The girls chuckled, falling into their usual rhythm of gossip, neighborhood news, and hushed complaints about Mimi’s cousin who borrowed her car last week and came back with it smelling like weed and disappointment.

After a lull in the conversation, nothing but the click of tools and splash of water filling the space between them, Mary tilted her head slightly and peeked at Juicy from the corner of her eye. Her voice came soft, hesitant, but laced with intent.

“Do you like…the twins?”

Juicy’s brows furrowed. “Of course I like the twins,” she said, her voice light with a laugh as if the question was ridiculous.

Mary didn’t budge. “No, I mean like, romantically.”

The smile then dimmed from Juicy’s lips, and her breath caught in her throat. Her heart skipped the way it always did when Smoke looked at her just a second too long, or when Stack said something slick that she pretended not to hear. Her mind stuttered through a thousand versions of what if, but she tried not to let it show.

“Oh.” She said finally. Her voice was softer now. Smaller.

She turned to Mary and met her eyes, the air thick with something unspoken. “No.”

“No?” Mary echoed, her brow lifted.

“Yeah, no.” Juicy replied quickly, brushing the idea aside as if saying it fast enough would make it true. “I mean, they’re attractive. Anybody can see that. But I don’t think…nah.” She tried to sound convincing, even if she was talking more to herself than Mary.

Mary wasn’t buying it. “I mean, I think they might have it for you.”

“For me?” Juicy blinked, startled.

“Yeah. Especially Smoke. I know Stack’s always flirting, but that boy flirts with every girl, hell, and probably with his reflection in the mirror. Smoke though? He don’t look at nobody the way he look at you. It’s like you the only girl in the world to him.”

Juicy’s stomach flipped, warmth blooming in her chest despite herself. But a part of her wilted too—the part that heard Stack’s name tossed out like he was just playing a part. Like he didn’t mean some of the looks, or those slick little comments that lingered longer than they should’ve.

“I don’t know.” Juicy murmured, letting out a shaky breath and laughing it off like she wasn’t falling into a spiral.

Mary rolled her eyes. “Hey, there’s no shame in trying. I get it. You’re scared it’ll mess things up for your friendship. But if a fine-ass man like that looked my way, girl, I’d dive headfirst. Even if it’s just to fuck.”

“Mary!” Juicy hissed, looking wide-eyed toward the techs working on their toes.

“What? I’m serious,” Mary whispered, grinning.

“Oh, I know you are.”

Mary waved a hand like she was swatting a fly. “Anyway, I only asked because Monica told me Anika’s been sniffing around. Says she’s on the hunt since her and Donavan broke up. Again. Says it’s for good this time but we all know that’s a lie.”

Juicy rolled her eyes. “That girl’s always on the hunt. She’d prowl her way into a church function if she smelled cologne.”

“And Yalonda said she don’t even care which twin she gets. Just wants one.”Mary added, her lip curling in disgust. “Like, what kind of thirsty behavior is that? Not even caring which person you want, you just care that they’re sexy so you’ll take either. This isn’t a damn store.”

Juicy hummed in agreement but didn’t say much. Her chest felt tight, the thought of other girls sizing up the twins—her twins—leaving her strangely defensive.

“I mean, if I had to pick…” Mary trailed off, her voice laced with mischief.

Juicy turned to her sharply, caught off guard. “Pick?”

“Yeah. I think I would choose Stack. Stack’s more rugged, bold. I like that. Smoke’s too chill for me. He’d probably make me second-guess myself every five minutes.” Mary laughed, then grinned. “But if I was greedy—which I am—I’d swoop up both and leave these bitches mad as fuck.”

Juicy blinked. Her heart pounded again, louder now, her cheeks warm.

“Who would you choose?” Mary asked innocently, turning to face her with that knowing look.

“I—uh—I don’t know,” Juicy muttered, glancing down at her feet. Tina was painting her toes a soft, pastel yellow, but she couldn’t focus on that. “That’s a hard question.”

“Girl, just answer.” Mary groaned. “It’s just us. I ain’t about to go runnin’ to them with your secrets.”

Juicy took a long breath, let it out slowly. She thought about Stack’s grin when she got annoyed. About Smoke’s eyes watching her like they saw things she didn’t even show. She thought about how her heart never picked a side. And then she said it, quietly, like it didn’t mean everything.

“Both.”

Mary’s eyes widened, a big smile breaking out on her face as she leaned in. “Both?”

Juicy didn’t answer.

Mary gasped dramatically. “Juicy!”

“What? You told me to answer.” Juicy shrugged, still avoiding her gaze, but her lips twitched into a small, guilty smile.

“I know, I just didn’t know you were such a freak like that.” Mary grinned. “I’m so proud of you.”

“I’m not a freak.” Juicy said with a small smirk as she leaned back in the seat before turning to look at Mary. “Just why have one when you can have both?”

Marin’s grin widened as she looked at her best friend next to her, the sweet and innocent Juicy almost unrecognizable as she looked at her. And she couldn’t stop her grin from widening, almost in pride.

“Exactly.”

As Tina began the second coat on her toes and the shop filled with the chatter of another customer walking in, Juicy leaned back in her chair and stared at the ceiling fan above them. Her heart was still racing, but her smile—subtle and soft—lingered. Summer was just getting started.

════════════ ⭑.ᐟ ════════════

The sun was just beginning to dip below the skyline as tires rolled to a gentle stop at the curb. The cicadas still singing under the thick and sticky veil of southern summer heat that was finally softening into something a bit more bearable as Mary’s car pulled up to Juicy’s driveway. The street was dim, the soft yellow of porch lights glimmering against humid air. Mary turned to Juicy with a knowing smile, her glossed lips shining faintly under the dome light of the car. The AC had been blasting the entire ride, a faint trace of the nail salon’s lavender lotion still lingering in the air. They were both loose-limbed from their pedicures and still giggling over Mary’s bold claims and Juicy’s reluctant confession.

“Alright, babe,” Mary said, slipping the car into park and turning in her seat with a knowing grin. “Don’t act brand new next time I bring up the twins.”

Juicy rolled her eyes with a laugh, already gathering her little purse and salon flip-flops. “Whatever.”

“You know I love you, girl,” Mary said, leaning in. They exchanged their signature goodbye—cheek kisses, one on each side, exaggerated and dramatic. “Mwah. Mwah.”

“I’ll call you later.” Juicy said, pulling the door shut behind her.

“You better.”

Juicy stepped out into the warm evening air, her eyes lazily drifting across the street. Only one car was parked in the twins’ driveway and her chest gave the smallest deflated sigh at the sight of the familiar cutlass absent. Either they were both out, or—more likely—Smoke was gone. Not that she was disappointed. Not really. She turned her attention to her front door, keys already in hand.

Inside, her house welcomed her with the cool hush of an AC unit humming low and the faint scent of lemon cleaner. She slipped off her white flip-flops with the little rhinestones and flexed her freshly done toes on the cool tile. Her body relaxed, ready for a shower and some water—only for her ears to perk up at the unmistakable sound of the TV murmuring in the living room. She blinked, her brows furrowing as she padded softly across the hardwood floor.

When she turned the corner, she froze.

There on her couch, sprawled comfortably like he paid rent, was Stack, the glow of The Wayans Bros lighting up his face in flickers of sitcom chaos. Remote in one hand, legs stretched, and a bag of chips resting casually on the armrest. The volume was low and he turned his head lazily just as she stepped in, both of them locking eyes beneath the dim yellow hue of the side lamp. The air shifted immediately.

“Hey.” He said, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Hey.” She replied, blinking in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“Watching your TV.” He barely even looked sheepish, starting it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. And Juicy just let out a breath of a laugh, shaking her head as she walked further into the room. “I can see that.” She said saintly. She didn’t ask for more than that. Honestly, she wasn’t sure she wanted to. It was easier to just… accept the warmth that settled in her belly at the sight of him there. Comfortable and at ease like he belonged there normally. It was nice to see.

Stack leaned forward a bit, his eyes skimming over her. “Let me see the nails.”

Juicy arched a brow but held her hands out, fingers spread. “They’re just French tips with a little bling. Nothin’ wild.”

“Yeah.” He said, taking her hand, turning it slightly to catch the light. “But they’re not your usual.”

She tilted her head. “You know what my usual is?” She asked with a small smirk, and Smoke copied her grin as he raised his eyes up to meet hers. “I pay attention.”

Her smile twitched wider at that. He let her hand go, but his gaze didn’t move far.

“Let me see the toes.” He added casually, though there was something in his voice that sent a flicker up her spine.

Juicy laughed again, but leaned back against the couch, swinging her legs into his lap with a teasing look in her eyes. She wiggled her toes, freshly polished with the same glossy French tip, tiny gems them as well.

“Be still.” He murmured with a grin, wrapping his hands around her ankles and lifting one foot to examine it like it was art. His fingers were warm against her skin, rough in all the right ways, and it sent a low, subtle shiver up her legs as he handled her feet like it was the most natural position for them. “You like?” She asked, her voice dipping low, almost instinctive. Soft. Sweet. Sultry.

Stack’s eyes lifted to hers, his smile slower this time, eyes gleaming. “Oh, I love.”

Juicy’s breath hitched just a little, and it surprised her. She tried to mask it with a smile, but there was something about the way he was looking at her now. Like she wasn’t just he and Smoke’s childhood friend or the neighbor or the girl he teased sometimes for fun. There was a weight to his gaze.

His fingers moved in slow, absent circles over her arch, rubbing without thinking, like it was second nature. She shifted slightly, trying to keep her breath steady, but the tension in the room was undeniable now. The TV might as well have been turned off.

The room went quiet, the TV nothing more than background noise now. The air thickened, their energy humming beneath the surface like static before a storm.

“Is… Smoke mad at me?” Juicy asked suddenly, voice quiet.

Stack looked up, his brow lifting just slightly, which emptied her to continue. “He seemed a bit irritated at the way I was acting earlier.” She added, eyes dropping to her lap. “I guess I was being a little…much.”

“Yeah, you were a brat.” Stack said plainly. Juicy frowned at his words, her lips pushing into a pout. “I know.” She sighed. “And I don’t know why.”

“Because you’re spoiled.”

Her mouth dropped open in mock offense. “I am not spoiled!”

Stack chuckled. “Yes you are, Juicy.”

She moved to protest again, but he lifted a finger, silencing her with a teasing smirk. “You’re the youngest girl in your family. You did everything mommy and daddy dearest wanted, no matter how wild they acted back then. To them, you were the good one. The golden one. Compared to your drug-dealin’ brother and your teen-mom sister, you look like a damn angel.”

Juicy wrinkled her nose but wasn’t sure if she could even fully deny it.

“I blame me and Smoke.” Stack continued, rubbing slow along her heel with one bad while the other toyed with her anklet. “We used to do whatever you said. No matter how crazy it was. Then it rubbed off on everybody else. Mary, Missy… hell, even strangers do what you say.”

“Well.” She said sassily. “You could’ve said no.”

He looked up at her and smiled. “And see that pout? Oh baby, you know I couldn’t.”

He lifted her foot and placed a kiss on it—quick, but lingering enough to make her toes curl. Juicy giggled and half-kicked him, not hard, more playful than anything.

Silence fell again, warm and full.

“But no, he’s not mad at you.”Stack finally said. “At least, not for long. You know how he gets when people don’t listen.”

“Yeah, I know how you both get.”Juicy said with a small roll of her eyes. “You just be glad I like that attitude you give me.” Stack said, gaze sharpening just slightly. “Or else we’d have some issues. Issues I’d have to fix, real quick.”His tongue swept across his bottom lip slowly, and Juicy’s breath caught in her throat. She shifted, thighs clenching slightly, something that Stack caught and made him grin.

“You got real soft feet.” He murmured, eyes dropping again.

“I know.” She said, trying to play it cool despite the butterflies blooming in her chest.

“You get ’em done for someone?”

Her eyes searched his face, trying to figure out if it was a joke or something more. “You.” She said after a beat. Stack eyes made their way back to his, his brow lifted slightly. Juicy simply smirked, letting the words hang in the air. “And every other fine man who might be watchin’.” She added.

Stack laughed then, that low and deep sound that made her knees feel weak even though she was sitting down.

“Well.” He said, setting her feet gently back in his lap, “You definitely got my attention.”

Their eyes locked again, and this time, neither of them looked away.

The TV flickered in the background, forgotten. The ceiling fan hummed low overhead. But all Juicy could feel was the heat between them, thick as the summer night outside, and just as electric.

Stack’s fingers lingered just above her ankle now, the circles slower, heavier. Like he was remembering the feeling of her soft skin under his. Juicy swallowed hard, the thrum in her chest matching the quiet hum of the ceiling fan, blowing out warm air that didn’t help cool her flushed skin.

Stack hadn’t said anything since his last comment, but his eyes were still on her. And his gaze was so heavy and intense that she felt a heart eat start at the lower part of her body. He didn’t stare at her in that way boys used to look at her when she walked by in low-rise jeans. He did it in that way that made her feel seen. He was peeling her open with a glance, figuring out where to press, where to touch, how to unravel her.

Juicy sat up a little, her legs shifting so her calves rested across his lap instead of just her feet. A bold move, maybe. But it was hot. And his hands were warm. And that look in his eye made her forget how to second-guess herself.

“You good?” Stack asked, his voice low, like velvet soaked in heat.

Juicy nodded, slow. “Mhm.”

He raised a brow, but the corners of his lips tugged into a knowing grin. “Alright then.” His hands moved again, this time sliding from her ankle to her shin. His thumb brushed the curve of her calf, just slow enough to make her squirm. She looked away for a second, then back at him, only to catch his eyes already there—watching her reactions. He was closer to her legs now, and he watched as she took a sniff, and the way his eyes closed briefly had her wanting to clench her thoughts together.

“You smell sweet.” He stated as his large hands rubbed against her legs, squeezing her thick calf every now and then. “This the lotion they put on you at the salon?”1 He asked, voice playful, but the rasp in it gave him away.

Juicy licked her lips. “No, it’s the one I carry with me. Gotta stay soft.” She shrugged.

That earned a chuckle, low and deep, and his fingers didn’t stop moving. Now they were tracing the line behind her knee, then higher. She felt her breath hitch, but she didn’t stop him. Her body was humming. Like her skin was remembering the nights she used to dream of this exact thing and pretend she didn’t.

“You tryna drive me crazy?” He murmured, his fingertips brushing along her thigh now—just below the hem of her little shorts. It was light. Barely there. But it lit a fire under her skin.

“I thought I already did.” She replied, voice dipping, almost shy but not really. Stack smiled. That slow, lazy smile that said he liked where this was headed. His hands slid further north, one staying on her thigh, the other moving to her waist, like he was trying to anchor her and set her on fire at the same time.

“Juicy…”

She looked at him, breath caught somewhere between her lungs and her lips. “Yeah?” She asked breathlessly.

“You ever think about us?” He asked, thumb stroking just under the band of her shorts.

Her heart thumped. “Like what?”

His gaze was heavy now. Weighted with meaning. With memories of all the late nights they’d danced around each other, shared jokes a little too flirty, lingered in the same room just a little too long. “Like this.” He said simply. “Like… me and you. No frontin’ or nothin’ like that. Just us.” He said, and the way he was speaking, that soft voice like he was begging, had Juicy’s heart beating hard within her chest.

Juicy’s throat felt tight, but she nodded. “Yeah… I think about it.” She said, her eyes wide and twinkling as she stared into his eyes. “Me too.” His hand drifted further, palm cupping the outside of her thigh now, fingertips brushing the curve of her hip. “All the time.”

His touch turned more confident, the tease of it replaced with intention. He leaned in slightly, close enough for Juicy to smell the faded cologne on his neck—something warm and woodsy that clung to him even through the heat.

Her hand found his chest, soft at first, then gripping the front of his white tank like she needed something to hold on to. Stack leaned forward, his mouth brushing her shoulder before his lips pressed there, then higher—up her neck, slow and deliberate.

“You want me to stop?” He whispered, his voice sending a shiver straight down her spine.

She shook her head, breathless. “No…”

That was all he needed.

His hands moved with more purpose now, dragging her closer until she was nearly straddling his lap. One arm hooked around her waist, the other dipped lower, beneath the hem of her shorts. She felt his hand explore the curve of her thigh, the hush between them thick as the moment stretched.

Then… he slid further, his fingers brushing against her clothed heat. Then he pressed against her, his large fingered rubbed her through her panties.

Juicy gasped—quiet, startled, but far from unwilling. Stack’s eyes never left hers, watching every flicker across her face, gauging her every breath and reaction as his fingers moved in slow, deliberate rhythm. His mouth brushed hers, feather-soft, like he was asking for permission even as his hand spoke for him.

She gripped his tank tighter, her eyes fluttering shut as she subconsciously, slowly rocked her hips against his hand.

And in the sweltering quiet of that summer night, Stack got to work—steady, focused, and with the kind of confidence that told Juicy he’d been waiting a long time to do this right.

The air felt heavier now—thick with something unspoken but deeply understood. Juicy’s breath hitched, and for a moment, all she could hear was the slow hum of the fan and the soft rustle of Stack’s hands as they moved against her skin.

He kissed her again. This time just beneath her jaw, then down to her collarbone, letting his lips linger. Like he was memorizing her. His hand, still tucked beneath the waistband of her shorts, moved with a deliberate rhythm that had her thighs tensing and her hips subtly shifting, almost involuntarily. A slow, languid ache built low in her belly, and her fingers slid across his cornrows, gently tugging at the long end as if to ground herself in something.

“Stack…” She breathed, barely able to get the name out.

He looked up, eyes hooded and warm, his smile crooked like he knew exactly what he was doing. “You good?” He asked, the rough edge in his voice betraying how much he wanted to keep going.

She nodded—maybe a little too fast—but she couldn’t help it. Her voice was soft when she answered, breathless. “Don’t stop.”

That smile deepened, and he kissed her again, this time on the mouth—slow and full, with tongue, like he wanted to make her forget any man who ever kissed her before.

Stack’s hand was slow and sure, trailing up the outside of Juicy’s thigh with the kind of care that made her nerves hum. The couch beneath her felt too soft, too warm, like it was melting beneath them, and her heartbeat thudded in her ears louder than whatever was still playing on the TV. His fingers moved with ease, confident and patient, making her body respond before her brain could catch up.

Juicy let her head fall back as Stack nipped at her neck, her breath coming out in shallow little sighs, eyes fluttering shut. Every inch of her felt like it was waiting on him—like her whole body was leaning into the moment, breathless and trembling.

Then—

Click.

The sharp sound of a key turning in the front door lock cut through the air like a lightning bolt. Juicy’s eyes snapped open just as Stack’s hand stilled beneath the soft cotton of her shorts. For a beat, neither of them moved, suspended in disbelief.

The door creaked open, and Juicy practically leapt up, pulling her shorts down as if they’d betrayed her.

Stack sat back with a groan that was barely audible, raking a hand over his face as Juicy scrambled to look like she hadn’t just been caught on the edge of sin.

Into the doorway stepped Sinclair, her arms full with a sleeping Tyson slumped against her shoulder, his little curls damp with sweat. She didn’t step fully into the living room, but her gaze drifted—just for a second—over to Juicy, who stood awkwardly next to the couch with her curls a little too messy and her tank top slightly askew.

Sinclair didn’t say anything, but one brow arched ever so slightly.

“Hey.” Juicy said quickly, voice too high. “Y’all back already?”

“Mm-hmm.” Sinclair hummed, tired but alert. “Tyson crashed on the way. Figured I’d just carry him up.”

Stack stood up then, brushing his hands on his jeans, and Juicy caught the faintest smirk playing at his lips, like he found the whole interruption funny. “I’mma head out.”He said casually, his voice warm but cool. Not too rushed, but not slow either.

“Yeah… okay.” Juicy said, following him toward the door, trying to smooth out her curls as they went.

Sinclair disappeared down the hall without a word, but Juicy could feel the suspicion lingering in the air. She knew she probably wasn’t going to get questioned later but whatever just happened would linger between them until it was bright up again.

The porch light buzzed faintly as she stepped into the doorway while Stack stepped outside. The warm night wrapped around them like a slow, sticky blanket. Crickets chirped somewhere in the distance, and the faint scent of grilled meat still hung in the air from someone’s barbecue earlier.

Stack turned to her, hands slipping into his pockets, his tall frame backlit by the porch light. “You alright?” He asked, a teasing glint in his eye.

Juicy rolled her eyes, trying not to smile. “I was, until somebody got me caught.”

“You wasn’t caught.” He murmured, stepping just a little closer. “She ain’t see nothin’. ’Sides… you the one that got all flustered.”

“I was not flustered.” She argued, eyes narrowing.

“You are flustered.” He leaned in even closer now, his voice low and lazy like syrup on a hot day. “Still got that little red blush right here…” He tapped her cheek lightly, and Juicy swatted his hand, but not really. They both laughed softly, the kind of quiet, private laugh that was meant to only be shared between two people in close quarters.

She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed lightly over her chest, watching him. “I’m grown.” She said, her usual sassy attitude coming back as she smoothed what we gloss she had left on her lips.

Stack’s gaze flicked down to her lips—quick but not shy. And then back up to her eyes. “Trust and believe I know that.” He said, his eyes training over her again. Juicy bit at the inside of her lip at that, looking up at him. “I should go.” He said, but made no move to leave.

“Mm-hmm.”Juicy hummed, still watching him with those big, round eyes. “You should.”

And yet… neither of them moved. The space between them tightened like a rubber band stretched too far. Then, without warning, Stack leaned in.

His lips found hers—warm, full, and hungry.

Juicy didn’t think. She just melted into him, her arms coming up to rest against his chest as his hand slid around her waist. The kiss deepened fast, hot and breath-stealing, like all the tension from earlier had been waiting for permission.

Then his hand, so bold and certain, slipped lower, gripping her behind in one smooth motion.

Juicy gasped into his mouth, the sound soft and shocked, but she didn’t pull away. Her hands curled into the fabric of his shirt, holding on like he might float away if she didn’t.

Stack broke the kiss then, just barely, his forehead resting against hers, both of them breathing heavy.

He looked down into her face, those dark eyes searching hers. She looked wrecked in the prettiest way—lips parted, cheeks flushed, her curls wild, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.

He kissed her again, quick and tender, right on her slightly open mouth. Then his hand slid slowly from her behind, the warmth of his touch still tingling against her skin.

“Have a good night, Juicy.”He said softly, his voice lower than before. Something about it sent a shiver down her spine. She swallowed and whispered, “Goodnight, Stack.” She said, but she wasn’t even sure the words made it past her lips.

She watched him walk down the steps, his tall frame cutting through the quiet of the street until he crossed over to the porch across from hers. He didn’t look back, not before she went quickly slipped inside and shut the door, pressing her back against it. Her hand went to her chest as she tried to catch her breath.

She stared up at the ceiling for a second, completely dazed. Then, finally, the words slipped out in a breathless, disbelieving whisper.

“What the fuck did I just do?”

════════════ ⭑.ᐟ ════════════

The morning sun had just begun to stream through the gauzy curtains of Juicy’s bedroom, casting a warmth across her floor. The summer air was already thick with heat, promising a sweltering day ahead. She stood near her dresser in nothing but a black tank top and her favorite pair of boy shorts, the soft cotton clinging to her curves in all the right places. Her hair was up in a bun with a silk scarf wrapped around the base, though a few strands were curling down the side of her face as she rubbed sunscreen onto her arms. The scent of coconut filled the room, mingling with the faint trace of her vanilla perfume.

She paused mid-rub, her eyes drifting toward the door as she remembered something.

Sinclair.

She needed to tell her sister about the pool party. Dropping the sunscreen onto the vanity, she wiped her hands on a towel and padded barefoot down the hall. Tyson’s door was slightly ajar, but she walked right past it, heading straight for the largest room in the house. Sinclair sat cross-legged on her bed, meticulously going through Tyson’s diaper bag, organizing bottles and wipes like she was preparing for war.

“Hey.” Juicy called softly, catching her attention.

Sinclair looked up from a pack of baby wipes. “Hey, what’s up?”

Juicy stepped further into the room, her bare legs brushing against the side of the bed as she smiled down at the toddler who sat surrounded by soft toys, babbling to himself. “Mary and I are gonna hit the pool party at the rec center in a few. Martin might be there, so I thought maybe you and Ty could slide through. Make it a family affair.”She said, reaching down to scoop up the baby.

Tyson squealed with delight, giggling as Juicy peppered his chubby cheeks with ticklish kisses. The baby’s laugh was contagious, filling the room like sunlight.

Sinclair’s smile was tentative. “Uh… yeah, I can see if we can do that.” She said, but something in her tone held hesitation. “It’s just that—”

Knock knock knock.

A knock at the door cut her off.

Sinclair raised an eyebrow. “I’ll get it.” She said quickly, gently placing Tyson back on the bed before heading down the hallway.

She didn’t ask who it was, didn’t pause, didn’t peek cautiously through the side curtain like she normally would. It was almost like she knew who was there form the knock alone, even the presence.

As she pressed her eye to the peephole, her breath caught. There he was. Those familiar full lips she knew better than her own name, framed by the smooth lines of a face she could spot even in a dream.

She opened the door, slow and unsure.

Smoke stood on the other side, tall and still and undeniably handsome, his expression unreadable but his eyes glued to her.

“Hey,” He said, voice low, intimate.

“Hi.” Juicy’s throat tightened, her breath catching. It was the first time they’d seen each other since her impulsive outburst yesterday. She’d sent two texts last night, trying not to sound too desperate, but they’d gone unanswered and call her an over thinker but know she didn’t know where they stood.

“Can I come in?” Smoke asked gently, watching her closely.

Juicy blinked, shaking off the trance. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, sure. Come on in.” She said, stepping aside.

He moved past her into the house, his presence immediately grounding, immediately consuming. She shut the door behind him and took his hand without thinking, leading him down the hallway to her bedroom. The house was still and quiet, Tyson’s babbling just a murmur in the distance.

Once inside, she closed the door behind them. Like he’d been here a thousand times, Smoke crossed the room and sat on her bed, picking up one of her pink decorative pillows and resting it against his knees. His eyes scanned her slowly. Her bun, her bare arms still glistening with sunscreen, the tank top that hugged her chest just tight enough for him to see the curve of her nipples underneath, and the boy shorts that left little to the imagination.

She stood with her hands on her hips, heart thudding against her ribs. “You mad at me?” She asked, lips pouted.

Smoke shook his head. “No.”

“Well…”She dragged the word out, tilting her head.

“…Were you mad at me?”

“I was never mad at you, baby.” He said, that low rasp in his voice drawing her in like a magnet.

That last word—baby—settled right in her chest and melted whatever walls she’d tried to put up. She exhaled softly, stepping forward until she stood between his knees. Her arms wrapped around his torso, pulling herself closer to him. “You didn’t answer my messages.” She murmured, her voice small and vulnerable. “I thought you were mad after what I did yesterday.”

Smoke’s arms slid around her waist, grounding her. His hands rested gently on her lower back, fingers drawing soft circles there.

“I wasn’t ignoring you.” He said. “After you dipped out to get your nails did, I had to handle some business. Came back late and crashed. I was tired.”

Juicy lifted her head just enough to look him in the eye, glancing down at her hang as she toyed this his gold chain. “So you weren’t mad at me? Not even a little?”

“Baby, no.” He repeated gently, then his fingers dipped beneath the hem of her shorts, teasing the bare skin of her hip. “But you better never talk back to me like that again.” He added in a low, commanding voice. “Or else you’re due for a punishment. Am I understood?”

A sharp thrill ran down her spine at the firm warning.

“Yes.” Juicy answered breathily, her thighs instinctively pressing together.

“Mmm, good.” Smoke said before leaning in to kiss her, slow and possessive, his hands traveling downward to rest on the curve of her ass. His words and touch made her heart skip. She felt a slick warmth pool between her legs at the way he claimed her without even needing to undress her.

“I been thinkin’ bout you.” He muttered, lips brushing hers. That thick sexual tension, so thick it could choke, melted into something else—still hot, still heavy—but now softer. Sweeter and longing.

She kissed the corner of his mouth with a feather-light touch. “I missed you.” She confessed, voice tight with emotion. Smoke tightened his hold with another soft him, one hand coming up to cradle the back of her head. “I missed you too.”

They stayed like that, tangled in each other’s limbs, in a moment so intimate it felt like time slowed. The outside world ceased to matter. All that existed was this boy she’d grown to crave and the way his body molded perfectly to hers.

Juicy’s chest tightened, her heart blooming into something dangerous. Something real, and that she wasn’t sure she ready to name, but couldn’t deny.

“I was worried.” She whispered, afraid to say it out loud. She practically spoke the words into his mouth since didn’t want to pull away, but he didn’t seem to mind as his around her tightened.

Smoke tilted her chin gently, thumb brushing over her bottom lip. “You don’t have to be. I’m here.”And for a second, she believed him. Fully and completely. Her hands slid beneath his shirt, touching the warm skin of his stomach. Her voice was soft. “You better come to that pool party later.” She said.

Smoke smirked, that lopsided grin she both hated and loved curling on his lips. “I might pull up. Depends on how good you look in that swimsuit.”

“Oh, I’m gon’ look good.” She grinned, tilting her head. “So you better be there.”

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Then I’ll be there.”

And just like that, the tension returned, but this time, it wasn’t uncertainty or doubt. It was anticipation. It was summer heat, sticky and sweet, and the thrill of knowing something good was coming.

Before they could Steele back into the heat of their moment, Sinclair knocked twice before easing the door open, her hand resting lightly on the knob as her eyes scanned the room. The first thing she noticed was Smoke, sitting casually on the edge of Juicy’s bed like he’d always belonged there, while Juicy was bent slightly at her dresser, sifting through clothes. Her back was to the door, unaware of her sister’s entrance at first.

Sinclair paused mid-step, almost doing a double take when her gaze landed on the man lounging comfortably in her baby sister’s bedroom. “I didn’t hear you come in.” She said slowly, eyes narrowing just a bit, like she couldn’t decide whether she was suspicious or surprised. Juicy, halfway through tugging open a drawer, turned and blinked. Her brows pulled together at the same time Smoke’s did, the pair of them mirroring each other like they were already synced without trying.

“He knocked a few minutes ago.”Juicy replied plainly, but her voice held the faintest trace of dry amusement. She stood up straighter, one hand still resting on the dresser as she looked back at Sinclair.

Sinclair’s eyes darted between them, then shifted toward the floor as her toddler son, Tyson, who came bumbling in with soft patters of his feet and the sweet sound of baby banter falling off his tongue. He wore a lopsided grin, his little hands reaching for whatever was nearby—his mother’s jeans, the air, the bed frame—giddy from just being seen.

“Oh, yeah.” Sinclair muttered, rubbing the side of her forehead as the memory finally clicked into place.

“Damn. I think the mom brain is starting to get to you.”Juicy said with an arched a brow, lips twitching with a small smile.

“Yeah, me too.”Sinclair let out a low sigh and adjusted the strap of her bag over her shoulder. “Anyway.” She started, a hesitant note sneaking into her tone. “We might pull up to the pool later, but first I’m taking Ty to see Mom and Dad.”

Juicy’s expression shifted, just barely. She was careful, giving her sister nothing but a sharp nod, her mouth set, and a blink. “Oh.” She said with a quick uptick of her chin. “Okay.”

But there was a new stillness in the room. One that Smoke picked up on instantly, his eyes flicking from Juicy to Sinclair. Something unspoken had entered the air. Sinclair’s eyes stayed on her sister for a moment longer, trying to gauge the exact temperature of her reaction. Then she spoke again, casually.

“They haven’t seen him in a while. And neither have I, so…” She trailed off with a slight shrug, feigning nonchalance, but even Tyson seemed to slow in his babbling, sensing the shift in his mama’s voice.

Juicy hummed, soft and brief, not looking directly at Sinclair as she turned back to her drawer. “Okay.” She repeated, her tone light but not warm. Her hand paused over a folded orange swimsuit, fingers tapping the fabric once before picking it up. Smoke didn’t say a word. He sat still, observing, but his jaw flexed slightly, like he could feel the tightness forming under her skin.

Sinclair gave a weak smile, the corners of her mouth barely lifting. She nodded once, lips pursed. “Alright.” She said, stepping back toward the doorway. “See y’all later.”

Juicy finally looked up again, flashing a bright smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “See ya.” She waved.

Then her gaze dropped to the little boy now holding onto the seam of his mother pants and grinning up at her with his two tiny bottom teeth showing. Her whole face softened.

“See ya, Ty!” She grinned, leaning down a little to wiggle her fingers in his direction.

“Say, ‘See ya, TT,’” Sinclair cooed in that syrupy baby voice as she leaned down beside him. But Tyson only giggled at the attention, waving his hand in a messy arc and showing off those same little teeth like he knew he was the moment.

Juicy laughed softly, the sound light and brief, but Smoke could tell her mind wasn’t fully in it. She was still stuck in whatever thoughts Sinclair had stirred up.

Sinclair gave her sister one last look, her eyes lingering a second longer than necessary on the man behind her. She clocked the way he sat—comfortably, as if this wasn’t his first time in that room. And something about that seemed to settle, or unsettle, in her chest. Then, without another word, she stepped out, gently guiding her son with her, and pulled the door shut behind them with a soft click.

Silence bloomed in the room like smoke after a match strike.

Juicy stood there, still holding the swimsuit, but her shoulders had stiffened. Smoke watched her quietly for a moment, studying the way her jaw tensed ever so slightly, the way her fingers gripped the bright orange fabric too tightly.

He didn’t speak right away. Just let the moment breathe. The silence between them was the kind that said a lot without either of them needing to say a damn thing. Summer heat curled in through the open window, thick and lazy, stirring the edges of the sheer curtains and gliding across her skin.

“You alright?” Smoke asked finally, his voice low, careful.

Juicy blinked like she’d just come out of a daze, turning to face him with a quick nod. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Smoke didn’t believe her, but he didn’t push—not yet. Instead, he let the moment sit. Let the tension hum like the faraway cicadas outside. He didn’t say anything for a second, just tilted his head slightly. “You sure?”

She gave him a softer smile then, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah, just surprised me is all.” She pulled open the bottom drawer of her dresser, sifting through neatly folded swimsuits. “I didn’t know she was going over there.”

Smoke leaned back slightly, palms pressing into the mattress. “You not cool with that?”

Juicy shrugged, trying to keep it casual. “I mean… it’s whatever. It ain’t my business.”

But the edge in her voice betrayed her. Smoke caught it.

“She told you about taking him over there?”

“Nope.” Juicy popped the ‘p’ as she pulled out a swimsuit—bright orange with gold detailing—and tossed it onto the bed without looking at him. “But like I said, it’s whatever.”

Smoke nodded slowly. He didn’t push, just watched her for a beat longer. “Your folks… y’all not on good terms?”

Juicy paused again, her hand resting flat on the dresser, nails tapping rhythmically. The pause stretched out a little too long before she answered.

“We cool. Just… history, you know?” She said vaguely, grabbing a pair of shorts to go with the swimsuit. “It’s nothin’ new.”

Smoke hummed low in his throat, but didn’t press further. He could feel the wall going up in real time. Whatever the story was, she wasn’t ready to unpack it right now—not with her sister freshly gone and her mood already shaken.

He stood, walking up behind her slowly. “You don’t gotta pretend with me.” He said, voice softer now. “You don’t wanna talk about it, fine. But don’t do that ‘I’m fine’ shit.”

Juicy looked at him over her shoulder, her expression unreadable for a moment. Then she gave a small smile—this one a little more real.

“Noted.”She murmured.

Smoke leaned down, pressed a kiss to the side of her head. “Good.”

For a while, they stood like that. Quiet. Though everything unspoken still buzzed beneath the surface, but neither one of them needed to say anything. Outside, the world was still alive with chatter, sprinklers, and the faint bass of someone’s car rolling down the street.

Juicy finally pulled herself away from the stillness, tucking the different swimsuit options and shorts under her arm. “I’m gonna change real quick.” She said, tilting her head toward the bathroom. “Don’t peek.”

A slow grin began pulling at the corner of his mouth. “I ain’t say nothin’,” He murmured, voice rich and playful as he moved and sat back down on the bed. “I’ll be here.”

She raised her brows at him with a small laugh, disappearing into her bathroom with a soft click of the door behind her.

She gave him a quick glance before disappearing into the bathroom, the door clicking softly behind her. And as soon as she was gone, Smoke leaned back on his hands again, his gaze drifting toward the closed door.

Something in her sister’s visit—and Juicy’s too-calm reaction—lingered in his chest like smoke that wouldn’t quite clear. Whatever it was, he figured it wasn’t just history.

It was something more.

And he had a feeling that it wasn’t done showing its teeth.

Inside the bathroom, Juicy peeled off her tank top and shorts, stepping into the cool lining of her black-and-white gingham bikini set. The top had a halter neckline that hugged her curves just right, and the matching mini skirt hit high on her thighs, barely grazing the bottom curve of her cheeks. It was more fashion than function—more for looking good than getting wet. She had no intention of swimming today. Just a little sun, a little music, a little flirtation. Maybe a drink or two, maybe a little dancing. And with Smoke around… maybe more of the last one.

She smoothed down the skirt, adjusted the top, then stood back to glance at herself in the mirror. Hair still fresh from her wrap the night before, she slicked her high bun back with her fingers, adding a pair of gold hoops to finish the look. A swipe of glittery gloss, a spritz of body spray that smelled like coconut and vanilla, and she was done.

When she stepped back out into the bedroom, Smoke sat up a little straighter. His mouth opened slightly like he was about to say something slick, but no words came—just a long, appreciative glance that traveled from her glossy lips to her honey-toned thighs.

Juicy caught it and smirked. “What?” She teased.

He let out a breath, shaking his head slowly. “Ain’t nobody even gon’ make it in the pool wit’ you lookin’ like that.”

Juicy rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t hide the little blush that crept up her neck. She crossed the room to grab her sandals, bending just a little too slow when she picked them up, and when she straightened, Smoke was still watching her.

“You tryin’ to be funny.” He said, narrowing his eyes playfully.

“I’m tryin’ to be fine.” She replied with a wink, slipping on her sandals and tossing her purse over her shoulder.

“Mission accomplished.”

They shared a grin as well as a laugh, something more easy and light, as if yesterday’s tension had been blown away with the breeze rolling through the window. Whatever that conversation had been, it didn’t follow them now. This was a new rhythm. A new beat.

As they headed out the door, Smoke opened it for her. “After you, Miss Juicy.”

Juicy giggled, flipping her silk scarf, which she now wore as decoration, as she passed. “You gon’ call me that all day now?”

“Yup,” He said, trailing behind her. “Miss Gingham if I’m nasty.”

She swatted at him as they walked down to his car, laughing. The heat had crept up since the morning, and by the time they got in, the leather seats were already warm under her thighs. She shifted, adjusting her skirt with a little tug.

The drive through the neighborhood was quick, familiar streets lined with porches and sun-faded cars, kids running through sprinklers and old heads playing dominoes under shade trees. Mary’s block was alive with the sound of a Saturday in May.

As they pulled up to the curb, Juicy leaned out the passenger window, scanning for her friend. She barely had time to blink before the screen door flew open and Mary burst out onto the porch, her high ponytail bouncing behind her and her gold sandals clacking against the wood steps.

“Y’all ready?!” Mary shouted, waving both arms like they hadn’t seen her in years. Her swimsuit was loud and proud, a bright yellow with white flowers, and a sheer cover-up that fluttered behind her as she jogged down the walk. “Let’s gooo, I been waitin’ since eight o’clock!”

Behind her, Missy stood on the porch, arms crossed and a faint smile on her lips. She was still in her house dress, a phone in one hand and the news paper tucked under had arm. She raised her hand when she spotted the car.

Smoke leaned a little, giving her a respectful nod after a quick blow of the horn in greeting. Juicy lifted her fingers in a wave, and Mary grinned, turning around to blow her mom a kiss.

“Be good!” Missy called, though her voice held no real warning. “And tell Sinclair I said hey!”

“I will!” Mary and Juicy called back.

The woman waved one last time, then disappeared inside with the slow creak of the screen door behind her.

Mary slid into the backseat, breathless and already pulling a tube of lip gloss out of her bag. “Okay. Playlist ready? Vibes set? Let’s go, I need to feel fine today.”

Juicy turned in her seat, grinning over her shoulder. “You always fine, girl.”

Smoke laughed softly, pulling off from the curb as the music kicked in, Ashanti’s ‘Rock Wit U’ floating through the speakers like the soundtrack to a perfect afternoon.

The sun was high now, casting long shadows and soaking the world in a white gold. And with Smoke behind the wheel, Juicy in the front seat in her barely-there skirt, and Mary gassing herself up in the back, everything about this moment felt exactly right.

Summer had never looked better.

════════════ ⭑.ᐟ ════════════

The car rounded the corner and dipped onto the long gravel road leading to the city pool, tires crunching beneath the heat. The closer they got, the louder the music became, the bass vibrating through the thick, humid air like a heartbeat. Juicy leaned forward in her seat, peeking out the windshield as she caught sight of the blue glint of water and the crowds already swelling behind the black barred fence.

Smoke nodded toward the commotion. “Stack said he’ll meet us here. He on his way now.”

Mary perked up in the backseat, tugging her sunglasses down over her eyes. “Oop—Stack comin’? Say less.” Her voice danced with excitement, and she reached for her strawberry-scented body oil, giving her legs a quick gleam.

Juicy glanced at Smoke, smirking. “So this really gon’ be a thing, huh? Y’all going everywhere with us?

He shrugged, amused. “I just drive the car. I don’t ask no questions.

Mary rolled her eyes with a dramatic sigh. “Please, you always ask questions.” Then she leaned forward between the seats, grinning. “But thank you for the ride, Mr. Chauffeur.”

“You welcome.” Smoke replied coolly, pulling into a shady patch near the edge of the lot. He cut the engine and leaned back in his seat, watching the scene unfold beyond the windshield. He then furrowed his brows, looking over at Juicy. “Dwait, didn’t y’all ask us to come?” He questioned.

“I thought you didn’t ask questions?” Juicy asked as she popped a piece of him in her mouth, smiling at him as Mary hopped out of the car to get the party started.

Despite the official Parks & Rec flyer calling it a “Family Fun Day,” the vibe was anything but kiddie. Sure, there were toddlers splashing in the shallow end and a few aunties under the pavilions eating BBQ on Styrofoam plates, but most of the crowd was teens and twenty-somethings, all fresh fits and flip-flops, drippin’ with baby oil and bottled water, posted up in every corner of the pool area with red solo cups.

The scent of grilled hot dogs and chlorine mixed with the blare of Chingy’s ‘Right Thurr’ booming through a set of old speakers someone had dragged to the edge of the pool deck. It was hot, it was loud, and it was everything summer was supposed to be.

Juicy opened her door and stepped out, the sun immediately warming her legs. She tugged her mini skirt down on instinct, though it didn’t do much. The fabric barely covered her, and when she turned, Smoke’s eyes flicked upward. She caught him.

“You lookin’?” She asked, hands on her hips.

“I ain’t say nothin’,” He replied, voice smooth as syrup.

“That’s not what I asked you.” She shot back with a wink, then reached into her purse to pull out her lip gloss. “Just know I seen it.”

Smoke chuckled low in his throat, closing his door and nodding toward the gate. “Let’s go before it get too packed. Some lil boy already doin’ flips by the ‘No Diving’ sign.”

Sure enough, as they stepped through the open gate, a boy with plaits came sailing through the air in mid-cannonball, splashing a group of girls who screamed and laughed while holding their phones and purses above their heads. A tangle of floaties bobbed along the edges of the pool, and people were posted up on every available inch of concrete—some laid out on towels, others perched on plastic lawn chairs with drinks in hand.

Juicy spotted a mutual friend of her, Lamont, almost immediately.

He wasn’t hard to miss. Shirtless in red trunks, chain swinging against his chest as he grinded behind some girl in a lime green bikini. One hand held a red cup, the other was suspiciously low on her waist, and he looked like he hadn’t seen a lifeguard whistle in at least twenty minutes.

Mary laughed when she saw him. “Lord, Lamont really acting like he ain’t on payroll.”

“Girl, he never act like he on payroll,” Juicy said, adjusting her hoops. “He only work here for the free hot dogs and attention.”

Up in the high chair, their homegirl Megan sat post, stoic as ever with her arms crossed, and clearly unamused. Her mirrored shades hid her eyes. She tapped her whistle once, loudly, then pointed at the boy gearing up to dive again.

They walked deeper into the party, weaving between coolers, foldout chairs, and sunbathing bodies. Juicy felt the eyes on her immediately—she always did—but today, with the sunlight catching her skin and the black-and-white gingham hugging her like it was made just for her, she felt it too. She wasn’t trying to swim. Wasn’t here for the water. Just the vibe. The music. And maybe the way Smoke’s hand brushed the small of her back every now and then as he guided her through the crowd.

Mary skipped ahead to greet a few friends already camped out by the edge of the pool, but Smoke and Juicy lingered by one of the empty loungers. He gestured to it, offering it like it was her throne.

“You tryna sit, or you gon’ stand here and let the sun hit you like a sexy model on a magazine cover? Cause I wouldn’t be mad at it if you stood in front of me.”

Juicy rolled her eyes and sank into the seat, crossing one leg over the other. “Magazine cover, huh?”

“Yeah, girl. You’re my Jet Beauty of the Week.” He said smoothly. “But better.”

She laughed, tipping her head back, and for a second, everything else disappeared—the splashes, the laughter. It was just them.

════════════ ⭑.ᐟ ════════════

Juicy lounged like she belonged in a music video. Her legs glistening from the shimmer lotion she dabbed on earlier, ankles crossed, chin tilted just enough to keep her glossed lips in the sun. Her magazine was open across her lap, pages fluttering in the breeze, catching her on a spread of luxury heels. Delicate strappy numbers from Jimmy Choo, those Miu Miu platforms she’d been eyeing since March, and some throwback Gucci slingbacks in cherry red. She licked her thumb and flipped the page lazily, humming along to “Frontin’” as it poured from the speakers set up by the snack stand.

Mary, meanwhile, was perched up next to her in the chair beside the lifeguard chair where Megan sat post—legs swinging, sunglasses halfway down her nose as she leaned in to whisper.

“No, like—he really tried to play in my face.”Mary said, voice low but clearly animated. “He called me from a random number and said he was at his grandmas. I called back a day later and some bitch named Tamika answered.” She scoffed.

Megan sis the same, disgust tracing her features. “He bold and dumb. That’s a deadly combo.”

“He’s a clown.” Mary muttered, adjusting her top. “What’s wild is I really liked him for a second. Like, I was plotting playlists for this man in my head. That’s how far gone I was.”

“Playlists?” Megan echoed, horrified. “Girl.”

“I know.” Mary groaned, covering her face with both hands. “I almost burned a CD.”

They both gasped dramatically in unison, and that was what caught Juicy’s attention. Her gaze shifted over the top of her magazine, brows lifting. “What? I wanna know.”

But neither girl responded. They just stared past her, toward the pool’s entrance, mouths parted in small, stunned expressions that leaned more into irritation than awe.

Juicy, never one to be left in the dark, lowered the glossy pages and followed their line of sight.

And there they were.

Anika and her crew.

Like clockwork, the pool gate creaked open and the temperature seemed to shift. The girls stepped through like they owned the pavement, all matching energy but not outfits. Anika’s hair was freshly pressed, as always, bouncing with every calculated step. She wore a coral bikini that looked expensive, her top tied perfectly above a flat, glistening stomach. Her girls followed close behind, equally beat—each with a fresh press, glossy lips, designer shades, and earrings that sparkled like the pool itself.

Their heels clicked against the concrete, like a warning shot.

Juicy turned her lip up slightly.

They were beautiful, no doubt. But that little flash of insecurity never even got the chance to rise—not after what Mary had whispered to her at the nail salon yesterday. About how Anika had openly talked about wanting to fuck either Stack or Smoke, like it was a game of eeny meeny miney hoe.

So Juicy didn’t gape like the others. She just squinted, unimpressed. “They not even dressed to swim.” She mumbled, flipping through her magazine with one hand and shrugging to herself.

Mary, without missing a beat, said, “Neither are you.” Glancing over at her.

Juicy’s eyes cut sharp to the side, a little grin curling at the corner of her mouth even as she rolled them. “And?”

Mary tilted her chin like Exactly, and turned back to Megan.

Juicy sighed and folded her magazine carefully, placing it in her chair. She stood, smoothed down the hem of her gingham mini skirt, and sauntered across the hot concrete until she reached the edge of the pool. It was packed—teenagers doing cannonballs, couples lounging waist-deep, kids with floaties. But she found a spot and slipped her sandals off, dipping her freshly-pedicured toes into the cool water.

She lowered herself until she was perched on the edge, knees drawn up, arms crossed as she turned back to Mary, who watched from afar like a proud big sister.

“Is this good enough?” Juicy asked, sass dripping off every syllable.

Mary stood from the lifeguard chair, smirking. “Nope.”

Before Juicy could respond, Mary marched over and without hesitation, slid right into the pool. A soft splash echoed, water rippling around her as she dunked everything but her hair. When she emerged, she slicked water down her arms and looked up with a wide grin.

“You gotta have more fun, girl.” She called.

Juicy answered with a very matter-of-fact middle finger, flashing her acrylics. Mary cracked up, kicking away and floating backwards into the deeper part of the pool.

Juicy couldn’t help but smile. Not the tight-lipped kind she reserved for strangers or polite moments, but something softer and much more easy and natural. Even in the middle of a party, with Anika’s clique parading around like they were filming a music video feature and the sun beating down like a spotlight, she still felt good. Still felt wanted.

Juicy let her legs sway gently in the water, toes flexing as they sliced through the shimmering blue. The sun warmed her skin, and the air smelled like cocoa butter, grill smoke, and chlorine. Her elbow rested lazily on her knee, her chin tucked into her palm as she scanned the poolside crowd with a dreamy kind of smile. Laughter rose in waves around her. Somebody hollered across the deep end. Girls squealed when a boy cannonballed too close.

Juicy’s eyes wandered, taking it all in—the summer buzz, the unapologetic joy of being young without weighing responsibility as if right now. For once, she wasn’t worried about how she looked or who was watching as she enjoyed the setting around her.

Until she saw Smoke.

He was crouched near the back corner where a group of guys surrounded a towel spread with bills and dice. Martin and a couple of his boys were laughing, talking shit, slapping palms between rolls. And Smoke was in his element, white wife pleaser clinging to his back, gold chain swinging low as he leaned in and watched the dice tumble.

Then he scooped the money up with one hand, the other brushing against his waves. He then glanced up and caught her in the middle of ogling.

His smirk deepened, shifting from cocky to slow and dangerous. His eyes roamed lazily, pausing at her bare shoulders, her shiny thighs, the subtle bounce of her curls in the heat. He looked like he was remembering things he shouldn’t be thinking about out in the open.

Juicy’s breath caught. Her lips parted slightly before she caught herself and looked away, cheeks warming as she let out a soft, involuntary laugh. That was all Smoke needed. He licked his bottom lip slowly and turned back to the dice game, but not before letting that smirk linger in her direction a few seconds longer than necessary, even if she wasn’t looking at him. He knew she felt the weight of his gaze.

She shook her head to herself, the faintest blush coloring her cheeks.

And then the gate creaked open again.

Juicy glanced up just in time to see Stack walk in, and if Smoke had her heart skipping, Stack had it full-on backflipping.

Unlike his brother, who stayed in his tank top, Stack came shirtless, and Lord—he knew what he was doing. The sun kissed every inch of his chest, his abs sculpted but not overdone. His torso glistened a bit, but she knew it wasn’t likely from the lotion or oil he slathered on before leaving the house, she could see the sweat beads he built up over time out in the Mississippi sun. Though the sheer did make the tattoos on his triceps pop, as the muscles flexed with each step he took. His black basketball shorts hung low on his hips, the waistband of his boxers peeking just above.

Juicy sucked in a quiet breath.

Jesus.

She didn’t even try to look away. How could she, when he walked with that kind of confidence. His eyes scanned the crowd lazily as he chewed gum, one hand dragging over his jaw before they landed on her.

And he smiled.

Stack didn’t bother to hide the way he looked at her. His gaze dropped, lingered on the way her thighs spread against the concrete, the glint of her new belly ring catching the sun— a tiny gem that matched the brightest star, little gold rays hanging. He didn’t even pretend not to notice the way her top lifted when she leaned back, or the way her lips parted ever so slightly at his gaze. She looked so good, he almost turned around and left, just to come back in again for the drama of it.

She had on something soft today, he realized. Not just her outfit, but her. The makeup, the lotion, the faint shimmer on her collarbones. Maybe it was the memory of last night, of his hand gripping the round of her ass while they kissed under the light of her porch. Maybe it was the way she said his name like a secret she wasn’t ready to share, breathing into his mouth as his hands exploded under her shorts. Either way, she was glowing, and he felt every bit of it hit him in the chest.

He winked.

And Juicy practically melted. She fumbled her gaze back to the water like it had answers, heart thudding as if the sun itself had reached down and tapped her on the shoulder.

Stack moved on toward his brother, the two of them meeting halfway with a dap and a shoulder bump. Juicy couldn’t hear what they said, but the way they laughed together, easy and familiar, made her stomach twist. It was strange, watching them like that—like nothing had happened.

Like she hadn’t kissed one of them in the dark the night before.

Like she hadn’t kissed the other one in broad daylight this morning.

Her fingers curled over the edge of the pool, nails tapping lightly. The music thumped on behind her, girls laughed, somebody cracked open a soda nearby—but her thoughts had narrowed to one singular sentence, loud and clear.

“What the fuck have I gotten myself into.”

And no amount of summer sun was gonna answer that for her.

By the time Mary had slinked back to the spot Juicy at the edge of the pool, her body was soaked and glistening, water droplets clinging to her skin like diamonds under the sun. Her pony was slicked back, her bikini clinging to her curves as she dropped beside her friend with a sigh of pure satisfaction.

“Girl, that water feels so good.” She said, wringing a bit of water from the end of her pony tail as she leaned back on her elbows. “You better stop being cute and come float with me.”

Juicy smiled faintly, her attention still half-watching the crowd. “I’ll think about it.”

“See? That’s your problem now. Always thinking about something.” Mary teased, nudging her with a damp foot. “Loosen up, it’s a pool party, not a courtroom.”

They both laughed softly, that lazy, sun-drunk kind of laughter, the kind that only came when your skin was warm and your stomach was full of the content of the splendid afternoon.

But the someone walked by and ruined it all.

Her heels clicked lightly against the pavement, despite the pool setting, and her glossy lips curved into a slow, knowing smirk as she passed the two girls.

“Hey, Juicy.” Pearline said, voice syrupy-sweet with just enough venom beneath it to sting. She barely paused, her eyes flicking over them with a casual kind of shade.

Juicy just looked at her, chin lifted slightly. Her mouth stayed closed, her eyes cool and unimpressed. Pearline didn’t wait for a response—didn’t need one, apparently. Her smirk deepened like she expected it.

Mary blinked after her, eyebrows furrowing. “Well damn.” She muttered, loud enough to be heard. “I’m here too, but okay.” She scoffed, causing Juicy to finally let out a soft laugh, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Ain’t nobody worried about ole girl.” She said, physically waving her off.

Mary hummed as she side-eyed the woman that walked away from them. “Not since she switched up soon as Anika rolled in with that fake ass Fendi, a different accent and a fresh silk press.” Mary said, shaking her head as she thought about how it all blew over. “Tragic, really. Anika can’t even speak Spanish and she’s supposed to be half Dominican. That was, like, all of her appeal.” She said, more to herself now as she scoffed.

Juicy didn’t answer right away. She was too busy watching Pearline strut away, heels clacking. That same old ache stirred in her chest, that old mix of resentment and something else—something deeper. Something she didn’t want to name.

She and Pearline hadn’t talked since junior year. Not since Pearline switched up on her, started rolling with Anika like she’d been born in Queens herself. Like she hadn’t once shared Kool-Aid in Juicy’s granny’s kitchen, or whispered about first crushes under the oak tree in Mary’s backyard. Or gossiped with them at the Friday night games.

And Mary knew. Mary had been there for the fall. For the way Juicy cried that night after Pearline left them at the dance, choosing Anika’s afterparty instead, not before leaving a nasty note and some hurtful words to the chubby girl. She’d been there when Juicy admitted that it wasn’t just about friendship—it was heartbreak. The kind that came when a person knew too much about your body, your laugh, your secrets. Pearline wasn’t just a best friend.

She was Juicy’s first almost. Something she’d never try aging after the hurt she faced.

And maybe that was why Juicy didn’t say anything now—just stood, brushing off her thighs as she grabbed her phone.

“I’ll be back.” She said quietly.

“Where you going?” Mary asked, concerned.

“Bathroom.”

Mary nodded, letting her go without pushing. She watched her friend disappear into the crowd, her expression softening. She knew what day this was turning into.

Juicy crossed the pool area quickly, dodging wet feet and floating beach balls, slipping into the public restroom near the concession stand. The moment she stepped inside, she grimaced.

The air was damp and sour. One of the sinks had a paper towel shoved in the drain, and water pooled on the floor like the aftermath of a middle school fight. The stalls were questionably clean, one of them with a door that hung off the hinge.

Juicy stepped back, shaking her head in disgust. “Yeah, no.” She mumbled to herself, turning right back around.

The better bathrooms were inside the main building, where the events coordinator worked and the lifeguards took breaks. She’d been in there once before—clean tile floors, working soap dispensers, and air conditioning. She needed that now.

She opened the back door and stepped outside again, sunlight smacking her full in the face as the bass from the music rattled the patio furniture. She squinted against the brightness—and that’s when she saw it. Juicy hadn’t even made it three steps back outside before the sight hit her square in the chest like a punch she wasn’t ready for.

Her steps faltered.

Anika.

She was walking—no, floating—across the concrete pool deck like it was a runway. Her long legs glistened with cocoa butter under the Mississippi sun, her flowy blouse flaring behind her like a flag of war. Her glossy lips curled into a slow, practiced smile as she made a beeline straight toward him.

Smoke.

Juicy stopped, dead in her tracks, eyes narrowing beneath her oversized Dior shades. Her fingers curled around the edge of her phone, the plastic digging into her palms as she watched the scene unfold in front of her like a movie she didn’t want to star in.

Anika reached him first, tilting her head in that way that always seemed rehearsed—chin dipped, lashes low, like she was some music video girl. In her manicured hand was a red solo cup, and she extended it to him like it was a gift.

And Smoke took it. He didn’t even seem to hesitate.

And that smile she knew so well—the one that tugged at just the left side of his mouth, the one he gave her that time—it was there. But it wasn’t for her.

It was for Anika.

Juicy’s stomach twisted so hard she felt dizzy.

She couldn’t hear what was being said, not from across the pool, but she didn’t need the words. The body language told it all. Anika touched his arm, ran her fingers down it with a softness that was far too familiar. And Smoke—he let her.

He didn’t pull away. He didn’t step back.

Whatever he said made Anika laugh—loud, hand to her chest like he’d just told the funniest joke on Earth. Her laugh was sharp, but Smoke didn’t flinch, he simply looked at the woman before him.

Juicy stood frozen, legs locked, sunglasses slipping down her nose. And for a moment, she forgot to breathe. She swallowed hard and turned, walking stiffly back to her lounge chair. She could feel the heat crawling up her neck, but it wasn’t from the sun.

Mary glanced over from her seat, noticing her face immediately. “Girl. What happened?”

Juicy dropped down beside her, yanking her towel across her lap and pushing her shades all the way up to hide her eyes.

“Nothin’.” She said quickly, but her voice betrayed her.

Mary blinked, followed her line of sight. “Wait. Is that…?”

“Yep.”

“And he’s talkin’ to her?”

“Yep.”

Mary let out a long whistle. “Oh, she was t playin’.”

Juicy didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to.

Because from where she sat, she could still see it all—the way Anika leaned against the fence, the way she kept angling her body so Smoke had a full view of her chest every time she flipped her hair. And worse, the way he looked.

Relaxed.

Entertained.

Interested.

It made Juicy’s throat tighten. She bit the inside of her cheek so hard she tasted copper.

Just this morning, he was grabbing her by the waist in her bedroom, whispering things in her ear that made her knees weak. She thought—hell, she felt—like something was building between them. Slow. Intense. Real.

But now he was out here laughing it up with a girl who wore matching designer bikinis and had two-toned highlights like they were still in a 702 music video.

And all Juicy could do was watch. It’s what she always did. What she bad grew accustomed to do.

“You good?” Mary asked again, voice softer this time.

Juicy forced a smile, but it barely held. “Course I am. Why would anyone be? I ain’t worried about no dude.”

But she was. And she hated herself for it.

Because no matter how hard she tried to sit still, her eyes kept flicking back to them. Anika was talking with her hands now, and Smoke was nodding, sipping whatever was in that damn cup. His gold chain glinted in the sunlight as he gave a smile again.

And maybe that was the part that stung the most.

He didn’t look mad anymore.

Didn’t look bothered about her walking away yesterday. Didn’t look like he even remembered.

She watched Anika press a hand to his chest—flat palm, fingers splayed like she was claiming him—and Juicy’s body tensed.

Maybe he really was feeling her. Maybe Smoke really was the type to flirt up a storm and move on the second a girl made him work too hard. Maybe all of their tension, all the flirting and teasing and late-night phone calls, meant more to her than it ever did to him.

She clenched her jaw and leaned back in her chair, trying to act like she didn’t care. Like she didn’t just see the boy who made her heart beat faster let another girl touch him like he was hers.

But inside, she was fuming.

And worst of all—hurt.

The kind of hurt you can’t even name out loud, because it’d mean admitting you care more than you said you did.

So instead, she crossed her arms. Pressed her lips into a hard line. And kept her eyes forward, pretending like she didn’t notice when Anika threw her head back in another laugh.

But she noticed.

She noticed everything.

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐭 & 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 🗑️ 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐞 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬★ ★ ★ ★ ★

𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧, 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢 | 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟑

Ever since that day after the skating rink, ever since the kiss they shared on her porch, Juicy had been over the moon whenever it came to Elijah Moore. Simply seeing him made a huge smile appear on the girls face, and though they hadn’t really agreed on what they were, even talked about it really, they were less than subtle.

Their eyes met every time the other entered the room, with stares that said more than they knew. Their lingering touches went untied, but they each felt the connection that seared between them. Their laughs were shared as usual, but there was a softness behind them that wasn’t there before.

They were not different. They were still the same.

But now new feelings were in the mix and things had started to shift into something more. Something more longing. Something more…lustful.

It first started after a long day Juicy and Mary working during the hair salon rush, she and Smoke sit on the porch alone. Stack was on her couch, asleep after the meal she and Sinclair made, and Mary was at home, getting ready for a date. Juicy was tired, barefoot, her legs in his lap while she eats from a bowl of peaches she’d sliced earlier.

Smoke watches her, his thumb brushing over the soft skin of her ankle.

“Why are you eatin’ like that?” He asked, and his voice was a bit hoarse from not speaking for a while, and now that he did.

“Like what?” The girl questioned, just before she slurped an another peach slice into her mouth.

“Like you tryna drive me crazy, girl.” He responded, causing her face to heat up at his innuendo. She let out a small laugh, but her voice is breathier than she means.

Ever since their kiss, sly comments like that have been having more of an impact on her than before. At first, she’d simply blush with a small laugh as she tried not to let her mind race, but now, she had this primal urge to pounce on him whenever she saw him, and his words didn’t make it any better.

Feeling bold, she leans forward, with the objective to feed him one of her slices and maybe say something as suggestive in response. But, just like that, his face was in bed from hers. And the world seemed to still around them as her breath got caught in her throat.

She slowly raised her fork to his lips, the dripping fruit leaking into the bowl she held up under his chin. Her eyes flickered from his intense eyes that never left her, and the fruit hanging between them.

He didn’t open his mouth until the peach was rubbed against his plump lip, and Juicy wanted to clench his legs as she watched his long tongue peek out as he took the fruit into his mouth.

He was barely done chewing before they were both leaning in, their eyes closed. And when their lips touched,she couldn’t help but think that the peach tastes way better on his lips. It wasn’t until he his tongue graced her lips didn’t she pull back from the kiss, an overwhelming feeling taking over her.

But Smoke took it as something else. He simply nodded before speaking gently. “Whenever you ready.” He said, his large hands subconsciously rubbing at her leg.

And Juicy simply continued eating her peaches, though they seemed a little closer now. And that moment stayed between them, warm and glowing like the sun touching her skin.

And those moments became more bold as time went on. Tension rose, feelings peaked and moments lingered.

The overhead bell of the Crown & Glory Beauty Supply store jingled softly as Smoke pushed the glass door open. It was dead in the store—just the faint buzz of an old fan rattling from a corner and a box TV in the top corner playing 106 & Park on low. The air-conditioning was working overtime, but it still couldn’t keep up with the summer heat beating against the glass windows. It was hot outside—real hot—the kind of heat that made everybody move just a little slower.

Juicy was behind the counter, leaning over a fashion magazine with a chewed-up pen between her fingers, glasses low on her nose, lips glossed just enough to look edible. It was new, a sparkly peach color that had a bit of flavor. He’d know, he’d tasted it when she first bought it.

Her hair was up in a messy up do, a slightly puffy roller set that was in need of a redo by her standards, with two curls escaping at the front to frame her face. She wore her name on a gold necklace and a cherry red tank top that clung to every curve like a second skin. She looked up when she heard the door, and saw Smoke stepping inside, her whole expression shifted—eyes bright, mouth soft, body leaning back with that familiar little grin she always tried to bite back.

“You ain’t supposed to be here.” She said, but there was no real protest in her voice. Only that teasing lilt he had grown addicted to. “You might make me forget I’m on the clock.”

Smoke grinned and held up a white plastic bag with ‘Thank you’ plastered over the front. “What if I said I brought you lunch?”

Juicy’s stomach answered before she could, and she rolled her eyes, laughing as she grabbed her little purse from under the counter. “Let me tell Keisha I’m takin’ my lunch break before you turn me into a damn stereotype.” Smoke chuckled low as he watched her lean over the little half-door to call into the back. “Keish! I’m takin’ my lunch now. I’ll be back in thirty.”

“You got forty-five.” Keisha called back. “But only if you bring me a pineapple soda.”

Juicy didn’t answer, just gave Smoke a playful side-eye as she walked out from behind the counter and toward the door, hips swaying with nothing but pure temptation in her denim shorts. “Come on, Mr. Delivery Boy.” She said as she passed him, while Smoke watched her as she licked his lips.

The sun hit them hard the moment they stepped outside. Smoke held the door open to his cutlass for her, parked just under the shade of a half dead oak tree off center of the stores entrance. The inside smelled like Black Ice air freshener and a little bit like him, clean clothes, cologne, and something vaguely minty.

He slid into the drivers seat and handed her the paper bag before she’d even fully shuffled into her seat. She took it, eyes wide with creepy delight, already knowing what he’d gotten her. Smoke helped her take the food out, and held the white Styrofoam to-go plate like an offering. “Figured you’d forget to eat. Got you the ten piece lemon pepper from Dock’s.”

Juicy blinked, then her lips parted in a slow grin. “You got me the good fries?”

“Seasoned and crispy. Just how you like it.”

“Mmm.” She reached out for the plate and brushed his fingers as she took it, her nails freshly done in that glittery nude pink he noticed last night when they were tangled up on her bed whispering secrets into each other’s necks. “You’re spoiling me.” She said with a little smirk, already opening the box and letting the smell take her over. “You’re gonna make me expect this every shift.” She said as she grabbed a fork to pick her fries.

Smoke leaned back in his seat, his eyes taking her in without shame. “Maybe I like spoilin’ you.”

Juicy tried not to blush, but it came anyway, spreading warm and rosy across her cheeks. She sat back in the passenger seat and picked at the fries first, licking the Cajun salt from her fingertips like she didn’t know it was killing him slowly. Smoke leaned back and watched her pick at the wings, the smell of zesty spice thick in the car. She took one bite and hummed.

“I swear, this might be better than sex.” She said with a mother full.

He arched a brow, watching the way she licked her fingers. “Might?” He questioned.

She smirked and didn’t answer, reaching for a fry instead.

For a while, they sat in easy silence. The windows were cracked just enough to let the summer breeze tease its way in. Smoke tapped a beat against the steering wheel while Luther Vandross’s ‘Take You Out’ played low from the stereo.

They hadn’t exactly told any one of their…relationship, yet. That much was understood without it needing to be said. Not Mary, not Stack, and definitely not Martin, needed to know about why they had going on. It wasn’t out of shame—at least not for Juicy. It was protection. Privacy. It was not wanting to hear her brother’s mouth or deal with Mary’s need for graphic detail or the way girls in the neighborhood would start watching her.

Smoke didn’t push. He never did. He just kept showing up.

At the end of her shift last time, he’d been parked out front with the windows down and Aaliyah playing low, just waiting to walk her to her car. The time before that, they sat in the backseat of his Cutlass for thirty minutes saying goodbye with their mouths and not a single word. His hands had found the small of her back, the inside of her thigh, the curve of her neck. None of it was ever rushed. He was always asking for permission with touch alone.

Now, watching her eat, he had to stuff his hands into his pockets to keep from reaching out.

“How long you got left?” He asked.

“’Til six. Bianca’s mom coming to drop off some things, and I gotta tag ‘em and put ‘em up front.” She took another bite from a wing, eyes fluttering as she chewed. “This so good. I should slap you.” She hummed.

“You wanna slap me?” He teased, leaning in just a bit. “What happened to all that lovin’ from the other night?”

Juicy’s eyes met his as she sipped from the stare of her cup, and for a moment, everything else went quiet. The radio, the passing car, even the hum of the air conditioning within the vehicle.

“You keep bringin’ me food and walkin’ me to my car like some gentleman, you can get some lovin’ alright.”She said softly, lips curving into a grin. “You gon’ mess around and make me soft, Smoke.” She pouted, faking annoyance with him.

“Maybe I want that.” Smoke said, his voice low, head tilted. “You already soft in all the right places.” He smirked, his head tilted as he looked her up and down.

Juicy didn’t know how to respond to that, she just looked at him for a long second. Her eyes were deep brown, like pools of warm syrup, and they narrowed just enough to let him know she was feeling it.

“Anyway.” She said, turning her eyes back to her plate. “You don’t gotta keep doing all this.”

Smoke leaned closer, his hand sliding across the center console to tap her wrist. “You don’t want me to?”

Juicy’s lips parted just enough to suck in a breath. “I didn’t say that.” She murmured.

He gave her a crooked smile, one that pulled slow and easy like honey off the spoon.

“Then hush and eat.”

She smiled like she couldn’t help herself. “You gon’ wait here until I’m off?” She asked, playing with a fry.

“Maybe.” He said before glancing at his gold watch. “Maybe I’ll wait outside. Or maybe I’ll go nap and come back. But I’ll be here.”

Juicy rolled her eyes, but it didn’t match the quiet joy stretching across her face. “You need to stop acting like we go together.” She said, letting her impulsive thoughts win as typed with him.

Smoke leaned closer, voice brushing her ear. “Oh, we don’t?” He questioned, already knowing what game the bratty girl was trying to play with him, so he decided to play a different one.

She paused, the bite of her fry halfway to her mouth. Her lips twitched again, this time with something softer—something unsure but open. “Boy, go on somewhere.” She whispered, turning her eyes away from him.

But he stayed right there. Watching her eat. Watching her smile. Watching her pretend like they weren’t already wrapped up in something they couldn’t name yet—but it was definitely felt.

“Oh, I can’t be on your space now?” He questioned, leaning a bit closer over the console, his eyes trailing her face. “This my car, I can be where I want.”

“You’re gonna smell my breath, Smoke, move.” Juicy said, leaning away from him a bit, just as he was trying to trial his lips closer to her.

He didn’t flinch. “So?”

“My breath probably smells. And that fruit punch ain’t made it no better.” She said, looking over at him, her hand over her mouth as if to block the smell from reaching him. Smoke simply started into her eyes, the only thing he could see over her hands. His eye bounced between hers as he leaned a little closer, voice dropping. “Still wanna taste it.”

Juicy’s whole body went still, the corner of her lips twitching like she was fighting something. She turned to face him fully, one leg tucked under her. “You are real bold today, huh?” She questioned, letting her hand drop.

Smoke leaned in more, his palm resting on the back of her seat, his eyes locked onto her mouth. “You been sneakin’ around with me in parking lots and empty rooms for how many days now?” He retorted. “It ain’t about being bold, baby.”

She didn’t answer, only nipped at her bottom lip.

“You lettin’ me touch all up on you, makin’ me wait just to kiss you again…”

“You already kissed me.” She said, soft as a confession.

“Yeah.” He said, his thumb now brushing against her jawline. “But it ain’t enough. Not when I think about it every time you walk away from me.”

Juicy’s eyes fluttered closed for a half-second, the tension so thick it hung in the car like fog.

She opened her eyes again, and they were darker now, shaded in lust and something tender. “I’m really feelin’ you, Smoke.” She murmured. “I just don’t want nobody in my business yet. Not my brother, not Mary, nobody. Not ‘til I know this is real.”

Smoke nodded slowly. “Then let me show you it is.”

He leaned in again—closer this time—and just before their lips met, she pulled back and covered her mouth with her hand.

“Wait, wait, wait.” She said, laughing softly. “I told you. My breath probably smells like lunch.”

Smoke smirked. “I told you. I don’t care.”

Then he kissed her.

Soft at first, warm and slow, like a question he already knew the answer to. Juicy melted into it, her hand slipping behind his neck, her lips parting without hesitation. He kissed her like he’d been waiting since the rink, since the last car meetup, since every sideways glance and half-second pause between them.

She sighed into him, her body turning so her knee brushed his thigh, and his hand slid down to her waist, tugging her closer. Her fries were forgotten on the dash, the radio hummed on, and somewhere in the distance, construction work buzzed—but all she could focus on was the way his fingers pressed into her hip, the heat of his mouth, the way he kissed her like she was his favorite food and he was starving.

By the time they pulled apart, her lip gloss was gone and her heart was racing.

Smoke looked at her, thumb brushing the side of her face like she was fragile, like he was still tasting her.

“Is that real enough for you, Juicy?”

She caught her breath, smirk tugging at her lips.

“It’s a start.” She said cheekily.

Smoke laughed, low and warm, already leaning in again.

And outside, the sun beat on the windows, heavy and golden, while Aaliyah’s voice floated from the tiny TV in the corner:

“Boy, I’ve been watching you like a hawk in the sky…”

The next time was about a week later, and they were sort of high off not seeing each other for a minute.

The house was quiet. The kind that came only when the day had finally exhaled. A low hum from the box fan in the corner of her room carried through the walls, but otherwise, silence blanketed the place like the thick heat outside.

Tyson was down for bed, knocked out cold after a long afternoon of playing with his toy dinosaurs, goldfish crackers, and singing Whitney Houston songs off-key around the house. Sinclair was out on a date with some boy guy, and Martin was God-knows-where, probably laid up with the flavor of the week. The house was Juicy’s for the night, and she’d planned to take full advantage of that.

She had just slipped into her favorite silk moomoo—champagne-pink and ultra soft, loose fitting but clinging in just the right places while letting everything else breathe. Her legs were smooth, freshly shaven and moisturized, and her roller set was tightly secured beneath a silk, butter-colored scarf. Her room smelled like bag champa incense and cocoa butter, a familiar blend of calm and comfort. The lights were dim, casting a warm amber glow from her bedside lamp. Juicy glanced at the clock. 10:46 p.m.

She was leaning over her nightstand, lighting a second stick of incense when a sharp tap-tap at the window made her jump.

Her heart stuttered.

Wide-eyed, she turned slowly, suspicious, hand hovering near her dresser drawer where she kept her little knife—just in case. Another knock followed, softer this time. She crept toward the window, staying low, her silk moomoo brushing against the floor as she moved. She peeked between the slats of her blinds and gasped.

Smoke.

Standing outside her window, straight faced, his stature intense as if he could see through the blinds. His gold chain glinted under the streetlight, and he lifted his hand in a slow wave, eyes locked on hers.

Juicy let out a tiny squeal, panicking. “Oh my God,” she whispered to herself, yanking the curtain closed.

Her room turned dark again, but her mind was racing. She spun around, clutching her moomoo. Why tonight? Why when she had her scarf on, her rollers showing through the wrap? She felt so exposed, caught mid-transformation. She wasn’t cute, she wasn’t ready.

She paced, muttering, “Why the hell would he come tonight? I look crazy…” She was in distress.

Then, from outside, his voice cut through the quiet.

“I’ve already seen you in your rollers.” He said, cool and calm, like he was talking with his lips pressed against her skin instead of standing on the other side of a pane of glass. “Open the window, Juicy.”

She froze. Could he hear me? She thought.

Her breath was caught in her throat, somewhere between embarrassment and excitement. Then, with a soft curse and a helpless little pout, she padded back over to the window and lifted it with a quiet creak. A second later, Smoke was climbing through like some bad-ass high school boyfriend in a ’80s movie. It seems easy and he seemed unbothered, like he’d done it a hundred times before.

His feet touched down on her carpet and his eyes immediately swept over her.

“Damn.” He said, voice a little lower now. “You always look good, but this right here? Yeah…this different.” He said, his tongue peeking out to trace over his bottom lip.

Juicy crossed her arms, suddenly shy. “Don’t start…” She warned.

“I’m serious.” He said, taking a slow step closer. “I don’t know why you hidin’ from me like I ain’t seen you in a bonnet before.”

“This ain’t no bonnet.” She said, fussing gently, cheeks warm. “This a roller set. Whole different level of ugly.”

He chuckled. “Ugly where?”

“You’re blind, Smoke.”

“Nah.” He said, taking her hand. “I see just fine.”

And that was all it took for her shoulders to drop a little, her nerves to settle into something soft and warm.

She turned from him to straighten her bed, trying to keep her hands busy. “And now what’s given you the gall to show up this time of night?”

“Ain’t nobody home but you and the baby.” He said, settling onto the edge of her bed. “And he sleep, ain’t he?”

“Yeah, but you know how Sinclair be. If she find out you was over here this late, she gon’ tell everybody and they mama.”

Smoke leaned back on his palms, his chain sliding against his chest. “Then I guess we better be quiet.”

Juicy turned slowly to face him, chin lifted in that defiant little way she always did when she was trying to keep herself from melting. “Smoke…” She trailed off, trying not to grin as she fluffed the pillow, avoiding his eyes. “I’m serious.”

“I missed you.” He said, voice dipping again as she changed the subject. And by the way he rushed it out, it’s been meaning to come off his tongue since he first laid eyes on her. “Been runnin’ all week, tryna get shit done with Stack. I been thinkin’ ‘bout you, though. How you sound.” He began, his hands trailing over to her, pulling her closer by the fabric of her gown. “How you taste.” His raised his hand to light grace over her lips, which were buttered in chapstick. “How you make them little sounds when I kiss on that spot right there…” He reached up and brushed his fingers gently along the side of her neck.

Juicy shivered, tucking her neck a bit. “You can’t keep doin’ this…” She mumbled with a small pout.

“Doin’ what?”

“Showin’ up late, and sayin’ stuff that makes me forget why I said you couldn’t come over in the first place.”

He grinned slowly, a look Juicy knew was dangerous. “Then don’t say I can’t come over.” He shrugged, as if it was such a simple solution.

She rolled her eyes but her smile gave her away. “You get on my nerves.”

Smoke stood and stepped toward her, closing the small gap between them. “Good.” He said, hands sliding to her waist. “Then you gon’ really hate this.”

He leaned in slow, lips almost brushing hers when she suddenly pulled back a little, nose scrunching up.

“Wait.” She whispered, laughing nervously. “I just brushed my teeth…”

Smoke paused, then smirked.

“And?”

“And that’s nasty!”

“I don’t care if your breath smell like hot dogs at a block party.” He said, lowering his voice. “I still want it.”

She let out a laugh, hand lightly pushing at his chest. “Oh, you’re nasty.”

Then he kissed her, something warm and deep. And just like that, they melted.

The kiss grew, slow but intense, their bodies pressing close, her silk moomoo whispering as it moved between them. It deepened naturally, his hands resting gently on her waist while hers slid around his neck. His hands roamed gently, not grabbing but holding onto her he was trying to memorize every curve. Juicy kissed him back, one hand curling around the back of his neck, the other resting softly on his chest.

The incense smoke curled around them.

His touch was slow, reverent, but had an unmistakable heat underneath them. When he backed her against the dresser, one hand sliding along the small of her back, she gasped softly, then caught her breath in his mouth.

Her silk moomoo slipped between his fingers like water.

The incense kept burning. Outside, the world kept spinning, but inside that room, it was just the two of them, quiet and tangled, while suspended in heat and candlelight. They stayed locked in that moment, breath against breath, a love they weren’t ready to explain yet.

Eventually, Juicy pulled away, breathing a little harder, her lips kiss-swollen, eyes heavy and breath barely above a whisper. “You better go.” She whispered. “I don’t stay too long. You know I gotta be up early.”

Smoke rested his forehead against hers. “I ain’t stayin’. Just needed to see you.”

She brushed her fingers across his cheek. “I know.”

Then he kissed her once more before he turned to the window. But before he left, he glanced back at her over his shoulder and grinned. “You look real good in that, you know. Like, a housewife or some, might have to get you another.”

Juicy couldn’t fight her grin as she grabbed her pillow and threw it at him, laughing softly. “Get out, boy.”

He caught it easily, flashed a smirk before he tossed it back at her, and disappeared out the window into the thick summer night. Leaving Juicy standing in her incense filled, candle lit room, heart thudding against her moomoo, smiling like a woman who had it bad.

And then there were the soft moments between them neither questioned.

Two days later, the sun hung high in the sky, casting golden light over the neighborhood as Juicy walked over to Stack and Smoke’s place with a plastic bag hanging from her hand. She held Missy’s peach cobbler mingling with the buttery scent of her famous pecan pie. Tucked beneath it were still-warm containers from Sinclair cooking—fried catfish, cabbage, and macaroni and cheese with a crunchy, golden crust.

Juicy had just planned to drop it off. She assumed both men were home—maybe out back playing dominoes or arguing over the game on TV. So she didn’t bother calling, didn’t reapply her lip gloss, didn’t even leave with the intention of staying long. She had plans with Mary, anyway, to get their nails done and gossip.

But inside of the More residence, the house was cool and still, carrying the faint scent of weed and linen spray. The blinds were turned just enough to let in slats of warm afternoon light, stretching across the hardwood like tiger stripes. It was one of the rare days Stack wasn’t home—off somewhere chasing money or women or both—and the place felt too quiet without his usual loud presence. Smoke didn’t liked it that way.

But there was nothing he could do about it, so he had just settled on the couch, a blunt half-rolled between his fingers, when a soft knock landed on the front door.

He knew that knock. And he was giddy about it before even getting up, though his face didn't really show it.

When he opened the door, there she was. His Juicy, dressed in a fitted white tank top and jeans that hugged her hips just right, gold earrings swaying gently with every movement and and her baby fat belly peeking out proudly, crowned by a ruby-studded belly ring that glinted in the sun. She held a little plastic grocery bag in her hand like she was just dropping something off, like she hadn't planned this.

When Juicy knocked, she expected Stack’s voice booming through the door or both of them calling out to her. But instead, it was Smoke who opened it—shirtless, as usual, his chain glinting in the light and his black durag still on.

“Oh.” She said, blinking.

His lips curved. “Oh?”

“I thought both y’all was here.”

“Nah. Stack out handling something. Just me,” he said, stepping aside and nodding her in. “Come on.”

She hesitated only for a second before stepping into the house. The cool air brushed against her skin, goosebumps rising as the scent of sandalwood and cologne hit her nose. Her skin was glistening from her coco butter later and smelled like brown sugar and his eyes trailed her figure as she walked by.

She set the bag on the kitchen counter and was already turning to leave when she felt him. His presence was close, his body blocking her path without even touching her.

“Where you going?” Smoke asked softly.

Juicy tilted her head, eyes narrowing, but her lips twitched. That voice of his. That low, patient, and just on the edge of coaxing voice, always meant trouble.

“I just came to drop these off.” She said, brushing invisible lint off her shirt. “Mary’s waitin’ on me. We supposed to go get our nails did.”

He didn’t move.

“I want you to fix me a plate.”

Juicy raised a brow. “You want me to fix you your plate?” She repeated, a bit take aback by his audacity.

“I’m hungry.” He said, voice deeper now, eyes still gentle. “Come on, Juicy.” He pleaded.

She let out a breathy laugh, not even bothering to hide her smile now. “Alright, damn. Let me wash my hands.”

In the kitchen, she moved like she’d done it a hundred times before. Opened the cabinets, found the plates without asking, scooped a fat helping of mac and cheese onto a plate, along with some catfish and added a side of cabbage, warmed it up in the microwave all while Smoke leaned against the fridge and watched her with something that looked dangerously close to adoration.

When the microwave dinged, she grabbed a fork, set it on the plate, and handed it to him.

But he didn’t take it.

Instead, he jutted his head before he turned and walked to the living room, flopping back onto the couch with the blunt now behind his ear, juicy following.

When juicy stood there, his plate and fork in her hands, Smoke looked back up at her and then patted the cushion next to him. Juicy narrowed her eyes. “Boy, if you don’t—”

“Come on, Juicy.” He said again, sweet and smooth and far too tempting.

She sighed, rolled her eyes, but made her way over and sat beside him, holding the plate out to him again. But Smoke simply looked over at her again, a rare playful glint in his eyes, and Juicy was rolling her eyes at him before he even opened his mouth.

“You ain’t gon’ feed me?” He asked.

“Boy, what?” She asked, scoffing softly, though her amusement was apparent as she held a small smile at him. Smoke snaked his lips, cutting his eyes at her. “Come on, Juicy.” He said, and his voice was soft but thick with something heavier. Something that sat right beneath the surface and made her heart skip just a little. She stared at him, lips parted, that nervous excitement fluttering in her chest when she noticed how…domesticated this felt and how soft it was. She could feel her body heat rise. He was shirtless, gold chain glinting, and close enough that she could count the lashes on his eyes.

“Okay.” She agreed before she broke a piece of the fish and brought it to his lips. He took it, slow, like he was tasting her fingers as much as the food. She rolled her eyes and fed him a bite of mac and cheese next. He let out a low groan of approval that sent heat curling up her spine.

“You gon’ spoil me.” He murmured between bites.

“Ain’t that what you want?” She asked, smirking.

He looked at her, eyes soft and unreadable. “I want you.”

She cut her eyes to him as she gather food onto the fork and held it in front of his mouth. “Don’t get used to it.”

“Too late.” And they sat down on the couch beside, and she feed him for a while, with the plate and fork in hand. The vibe had shifted into something playful to soft. The television played in the background, an episode of The Sparanos, humming low through the TV speakers.

She fed him fork after fork, laughing when he groaned dramatically at how good the food was, rolling his eyes and leaning back like he couldn’t take it. Juice wiped a bit of hot sauce from the corner of his mouth with her thumb and licked it away.

“You act like you ain’t never ate before.”

“I ain’t never ate like this.” He teased.

When the plate was clean, she started gathering it up, brushing crumbs off her lap. “Alright, I gotta go. Mary gon’ think I stood her up—”

“Hold up.” Smoke said, stretching. “I ain’t get dessert yet.”

“You want dessert?” The girl asked, a bit sassily as she placed her hands on her hip. “Yeah, I want something sweet.”

She rolled her eyes but was smiling too hard to pretend she meant it. “Fine. Pecan pie or cobbler?”

He pointed at her. “You pick.”

“That was the entrée. I want somethin’ sweet.”

She went to the kitchen and cut him a slice of Missy’s pecan pie. This time, she sat closer. Their thighs touched, as she fed him bite after bite while he kept his eyes on her, not the TV. Her fingers brushed his lips as she fed him, and he kissed the pad of her thumb when she wasn’t expecting it.

“Boy, don’t start.”

“I ain’t even done nothin’ yet.”

By the time the plate was clean, they were both smiling and too close. They laughed at something dumb on the screen and Juicy shook her head and almost dropped the fork when Smoke licked a bit of filling off her finger instead of letting her wipe it. “You a mess.” She murmured, but her tone was fond.

He took the plate and set it on the coffee table, then leaned forward, brushing his lips across her jaw before resting his forehead against hers. “Let me take you to Mary’s.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to.”

So she gave in. Of course she did.

She climbed in his car, trying not to smile the whole time. He drove with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on her thigh, slow strokes up and down that kept her distracted the entire ride. The windows down and the radio humming some slow R&B track that made her cheeks warm.

They didn’t talk much—just let the cicadas hum outside and the warm summer breeze float through the cracked window.

When they pulled up in front of Mary’s, she started to unbuckle, but he caught her wrist.

“Hold on.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded stack of bills. She tried to protest, but he shook his head.

“Smoke—”

“Get somethin’ extra. Gel or whatever y’all get.”

“You know I don’t need your money.” She whispered.

“I know. But I want you lookin’ good for me. You not payin’ for your own nails and toes when I’m around. That’s mine now.”

She looked at him, lips parted, unsure whether to argue or melt.

“You always doin’ the most.” She muttered, cheeks hot. And he didn’t answer, he just leaned in and kissed her, deep and slow. It was soft and slow on the cheek, just behind the curve of her jaw, before it moved to her lips. A hand found the small of her back, and before she could fully process the moment, he took a handful of her denim covered bottom into his hand, causing Juicy to let out a small yelp into his mouth. When he pulled back, and she was on her way out of the car, he gave her a light smack her on the bottom as she stepped out of the car. “Go on now, Juicy.”

She stumbled out the car, heart racing, money clutched in her hand, cheeks redder than cherry polish. She let out a tiny squeal and grinned all the way up the walkway. She walked into Mary’s house still smiling.

Mary was in the living room, filing her nails. “What you grinnin’ for?”

Juicy simply let out a sigh, fluttering her eyes to make sure this was still real life. “Don’t worry about it.” She muttered, waving her off. But the grin didn’t fade. Not even a little.

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐭 & 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 🗑️ 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐞 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬★ ★ ★ ★ ★