“Nah, it’s good for real.”
“Well, thank you. Glad you like it. But I can’t take all the credit. Isis really did help.”
I wanted to say,help with what? Handing you the bread or watching it toast?But I kept quiet to keep the peace.
“Snow, soup, and soft-ass sandwiches? Yeah… the apocalypse must be near,” Adrian’s silly ass said.
For once, we all genuinely laughed. If it stayed that way the rest of the trip—no side-eyes, no slick shots, no petty one-liners or emotional landmines—we might actually survive this snow-in with our sanity intact… and maybe even form a friendship. But knowing us? That was a big-ass if.
***
“Blankets, Bonding & Back Then: A Gentle Night of Reminiscing”
The fireplace crackled low, casting a golden glow across the living room like it knew peace had finally found its way in. Blankets were layered everywhere, socks were mismatched, and nobody gave a damn. The smell of spiked cocoa and woodsmoke lingered, wrapping the room in the kind of comfort only Black folks could create out of chaos.
Chesteria was halfway into her second mug of cocoa, humming to herself like a cozy R&B auntie about to get upand dance barefoot on the tile. I was stretched out next to her, legs kicked forward, sipping slowly on my drink and letting the warmth sink in. Chesteria had wrapped her fuzzy throw over her lap, and without even thinking, half of it had ended up over mine too, like it belonged there. Her elbow brushed mine every now and then when she shifted to laugh or sip, and I didn’t mind… not one bit. Adrian and Isis were snuggled up on the other couch, not quite touching, but sitting close enough to qualify as asoft-launch situationship. They were giving “we’re not official,” but if someone else flirted, there’d be a problem—real sneaky-link proximity.
“Alright,” Isis said, swirling her cocoa like she was about to spill tea. “Most embarrassing moment. You go first.”
She pointed her mug toward Adrian.
Adrian sat up dramatically, slapping his hand on his chest like he was on stage at open mic night.
“Aight, picture it… fourth grade, big-ass head, clean fit, fresh fade.”
We all leaned in, intrigued.
“I had this big ass crush on my teacher. Her name was Ms. Watkins. She was built like a stallion. I’m talkin’… coke bottle shape, wore heels every day, and had a walk that made you say ‘amen’ even if you was an atheist. One day, I wrote her a letter, slid it in her desk, and told her she could check ‘yes’ if she wanted to marry me.”
“Not the check, yes or no letter!” Isis laughed, almost spilling her drink.
“But wait, wait—” Adrian held up a finger. “I also added my mama’s phone number… just in case she needed permission.”
Everyone was laughing at that point.
“Yo!” I howled. “Nigga, you wasbold, bold!And why the hell would you do that, anyway?”
He shrugged. “Young, dumb, and desperate, nigga!”
“I’m curious to know how this turned out,” Chesteria said, already bracing herself.
Adrian exhaled through a laugh. “Man… she called my mama, alright. My mama pulled up to that school in a damn housecoat, some dirty house-shoes, rolled-up socks, and one damn foam roller still in the front of her head, yelling in front of the whole damn class, ‘You trying to make me a grandmother in prison?!’”
I doubled over in laughter. “You won, man,” I said, shaking my head. “Ain’t no topping that.”
“Ooooh, yes, there is,” Isis grinned, sipping her wine like she needed strength. “Okay, so I met this guy… fine as hell, deep voice, smelled like he moisturized with almond oil and ambition, had an 800-credit score,looked like he paid child supportearly,knew his blood typeandhis mama’s. He even wore cufflinks to brunch, had real leather seats in his car, and didn’t ask me to split the bill—not even as a joke. I said,Oh… you’re different.”
“Ouuu. Be careful, girl. Those types of men are the dangerous ones,” Chesteria warned, side-eyeing me.
I licked my lips, slowly. “You consider me dangerous?”
She gave me a half-smirk, half-squint. “If thebeaniefits…”
I chuckled and sipped my drink, letting the moment sit for a beat longer than necessary.
Isis cleared her throat, reeling us back in. “So I’m thinking…yes, finally,he might bethe one. So he invites me to his place, naturally, and I pull out my most exquisite lingerie. I wore this sheer, jet-black mesh bodysuit—custom, of course—with hand-placed Swarovski crystals right on thenipples. Y’all know the one… the one that makes you feel like a Dior ad with a little sin in it.”
Adrian shifted in his seat, tugging at his beard with interest. “Nah, I don’t. Go into a little more detail.”
