“So wait… the students sawallthat?” Isis asked, laughing.
Chesteria nodded like it physically hurt. “Oh, they saw it… and heard it. Apparently, my cameraandmic were still on. So all they heard was, ‘I don’t dance now, I make money moves’…andme yelling at my cat. Oh, but that wasn’t the kicker. One of the students screen recorded it, edited it, added captions, and then uploaded it to Facebook with the title‘When the teacher said she needed a mental health day’.From there? It spread like wildfire. It got over four thousand views and even made it to my pastor’s wife!”
Isis was crying now. “Girl, did they roast you?”
“That’s the crazy part… they loved it! I got emails like, ‘Professor Hollis, we stan your energy!’ and ‘You gave what needed to be gave!’ One girl even said I inspired her to twerk through her depression. When we were able to return to the campus, one of my colleagues handed me a Starbucks gift card and said, ‘For the next time you feel the beat.’ And one of my students advised me to stay in the gym to keep my knees strong. Embarrassed was an understatement.”
Adrian was doubled over in laughter. “Now that shit was funny as hell. It would’ve have paid for me to been one of your students that day. I would’ve told the class, ‘Turn to Chapter Twerk, Verse Body Roll.’”
Chesteria rolled her eyes, grinning. “Adrian, hush!”
“Nah, for real,” he added, wiping his face. “Is it still up? Igottasee this.”
Chesteria gasped dramatically. “Hell no!The student who uploaded it didn’t do it to be messy or malicious. She was actually one of my best students. She made this whole ‘Women in Academia’ appreciation post with screenshots of me mid-twerk and everything. She even hit me with a caption like,‘When your professor grades with rhythm and grace.Still, I begged her to take it down… and she did with no problem.”
Isis waved Adrian off. “Girl, don’t listen to him. That’s not embarrassing; that’s iconic! Now you might’ve failed them, but you taught themconfidence.”
Chesteria held up a hand. “And pelvic control.” She laughed. “But tell that to my dean, who now refers to me asProfessor Pop, Lock, and Drop It. Word of advice… always check if the damn camera red dot is on.”
I smirked. “Still the best damn video I’ve ever seen.”
Chesteria shot me a teasing glare. “Is it really, though?”
I leaned back just slightly, gripping my cup, and let the laugh fade from my face.
I knew exactly what she was hinting at.Chesteria wasn’t referring to no classroom comedy clip. Nah… she meant a video from one of our wild-ass, reckless, lights-off-but-camera-still-rolling' nights.The ones we never meant to keep but did anyway. The ones that lived in the privacy of my“Do Not Open Without a Lawyer”album.
Yeah, I still had them—all of them.
There were nights I replayed them just to watch the way Chesteria moved, how she said my name, how her body looked in the heat of it.I’d catch myself stroking to her voice, her moans, her damn silhouette, like a man trying to remember what heaven felt like. So when she asked,"Is it really, though?"I didn’t answer out loud. I smiled like a man who’d seen her body do miracles under candlelight.
I rubbed my face like I already regretted talking. “Aight… I’m up next. So I got my ass beat in fifth grade,” I confessed with a straight face.
Adrian laughed. “Nah, now.” He scooted to the edge of the couch. “Proceed, brother.”
Isis rubbed her hands together. “Oh, this shit finna be good!”
Chesteria looked over, confused. “Really, Bryce?” she asked, disbelief lacing her tone.
Chesteria was probably more shocked that she had never heard that story than the fact that I once got my ass beat. When me and Chesteria was together we shared damn near everything, from past trauma to that one time I fake-cried at my cousin’s funeral just ‘cause I ain’t wanna be the only dry face in the pews. Whole time I ain’t even like him. That nigga stole my Game Boy in ‘03.
“Real shit. I thought I was tough back in fifth grade. I thought I was untouchable. I had the flyest girl in class. But this other dude named Derrick used to always try to flirt with her. He was one of them smart-ass kids that corrected the teacher, ate string cheese with two hands, wore Velcro shoes with confidence, and read chapter books at recess. Like bro, go play or something.”
“Oh goodness!” Isis said, leaning in, messy as ever.
“Anyway, one day I saw him making her laughtoohard and I ain’t like that. So I told him, ‘Aye, after school, I’m on yo’ ass.’ I said it all tough, like I had hands or something.Big mistake. Mind y’all, I had never been in a real fight. The only thing I’d ever swung at was a fly.”
Chesteria was already shaking her head.
“So school let out, and we walked to that back gate like it wasSmackDown Live.I started talking heavy. I’m puffin’ my chest out, trying to sound like a grown man, saying shit like, ‘You got one more time to smile at my girl, and I’m putting you in a coma.’”
“And what happened?” Isis asked, eyes wide like she was at a movie.
I sighed, shaking my head. “Mane, Derrick ain’t saynothing.That nigga adjusted his glasses, set his book down like he ain’t wanna lose his page, androckedmy shit out. That nigga hit me so hard I saw Jesus sitting on the side of the gate like, ‘Damn, son.’ I was laying on the ground trying to remember my locker combo and my mama’s number at the same time.”
Of course, Adrian was laughing the hardest. “Was it a lot of people out there?”
“Nah, it was after school, so only a few folks saw it. But I was laid out so long the janitor tried to sweep me up. That nigga gave me a trash bag and told me to pick myself up… said I looked like litter.”
