Raya
“What you drinkin’?”
I eye the tall, dark-skinned dreadhead in front of me like the piece of meat he is. Gold Bar is ratchet as fuck, but they got some talent in here. If I wasn’t a married woman, I’d be stalking this nigga right now.
“Just water,” I say softly so he has to lean in. He smells good, too. Damn.
“Lemme get you a shot,” he says. “You too pretty to be sittin’ here bored.”
“I’m here with my friend,” I say, gesturing behind me to Tiff, who’s talking to a man on the dance floor. “I’m good. Chillin’.”
He flashes me a sexy smile. “So why don’t we chill together? You like Hennessey?”
Ooh, that’s a good question.
Normally, I don’t, but I’m sitting here with a parasite inside of me that I didn’t ask for, so…maybe tonight I do.
“Yeah. Make it happen.”
Another smile, then a subtle lick of his full lips. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go nowhere.”
I smile back, wondering what I’m gonna do when he returns.
This is such a mindfuck.
And now I’m staring at my phone wondering if Ace is gonna text me again. Have we reached that point where he’s stopped giving a fuck? Before we got married, he found me hanging out in a bar and snatched me up. But tonight, he just let this shit slide without a word.
It’s so disappointing.
Is this what marriage does to a couple? God, I don’t wanna be boring. I don’t wanna be a ball and chain to a hen-pecked husband. I refuse.
Tiff’s out there having fun with whoever the fuck that guy is. He’s close, but not too close. I guess she’s still playing it respectful for Bron. Stupid mistake. They aren’t even official yet. But whatever. You can lead a bitch to the club, but you can’t make her mindfuck her nigga into committing.
I check my phone again.
Dry as the Sahara.
“Here you go, beautiful.”
It’s my handsome friend again, back with our drinks. I accept the glass with a smile, nodding my thanks. “What are we drinking to?”
“Me getting your number later.”
I lift my glass, raise it to my lips, and then a hand comes out of nowhere and snatches it out of my grasp, splashing me with its contents.
“Yo, what the fuck?”
My eyes dart to my left and find my husband. His eyes are on my handsome friend, but his free hand is gripping my wrist.
“You got a problem?” the man asks Ace.
“Fuck outta here,” Ace grits. “This my wife you fucking with.”
“She ain’t say shit. Must not be too happy about it, bruh.”
He has about three inches on my man, but Ace is more pissed off than I’ve ever seen him, and I don’t doubt that he would black out on a man even twice his size. But I don’t want it to come to that.
“Ace—“
