No. Too much. He’s not an option. Curse those girls, and Yaz, for making me think about him so much.
I shut down the thoughts. Instead, I take a screenshot of the email, send it to the group chat with an annoyed comment, and then chuck my phone into the glove compartment of my car.
14Moyo
ANJIE WASN’T KIDDING WHEN SHE SAID THIS HALLOWEENmasquerade party was secret. Usually the location of these events, with their viral advertising videos and generic passcodes, is obvious to anyone remotely trying. But this? This was like finding a needle in a haystack.
On this North End road full of various people, locals and tourists alike, it’s easy to move undetected—if you’re white. But being three Black women, we get the usual stares.
“This is why I hate coming here,” Sewa grumbles under her breath, her words barely intelligible above the street chatter and increasing winds.
Hugging my coat tighter, I silently curse myself for wearing regular black lace tights instead of my heat tech ones. My need to feel sexy post-Cole and that disaster of a date with Julian might be my downfall.
“Almost there,” Anjie says for, easily, the thirtieth time tonight.
“We’ve been walking up and down the same stretch for hours,” Sewa says.
I reply, “It’s been fifteen minutes.”
“That’s what I said,” Sewa deadpans.
Our chuckles synchronize, cutting through the discomfort.
“Babes, you sure that customer was legit?” I ask.
“Lionel? Absolutely. He’s a regular at the restaurant and is always inviting me to these seasonal events. Between your bad date, my recipe testing mishaps, and Sewa’s fuck-ass professor, we need a girls’ night out.”
“Amen to that!” Sewa practically screams, turning even more heads in our direction.
I lock arms with her, pulling her in for a side hug. This semester of her PhD program has been rough. She’s so tired from her long days that it’s hard to drag her out of the house.
My head nuzzles into her neck, breathing in her rosy scent. Sewa rests her head on mine and we hang a few paces back, letting Anjie continue her failed Dora the Explorer cosplay.
“You good, babes?” I ask.
Sewa takes a second. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.”
“I didn’t ask if you’ll be fine. I asked if you are currently good?”
“Don’t get semantic with me,” she jokingly chastises.
I nudge her shoulder. “If you’d just answer…”
Sewa’s soft groan permeates the air. “It’s hard. Harder than I thought it’d be. I feel like I’m drowning with no end in sight.”
Having gone through med school, residency, and my fellowship, I know a thing or twenty about academia breaking souls.
“What do you need?”
“Nothing. It’s only the beginning, but I can’t think of anything except wanting it to end.” Sewa says this softly, as if the wind will carry her words to Anjie who is five feet ahead, squinting at buildings, looking for the entrance to this party.
I look up at Sewa. Her face is perfect, as per usual. With her ginger braids in a half-up, half-down style and immaculate makeup, she looks unbothered. But as someone who’s known her for over a decade, I see the fatigue, even beneath the concealer. How did I miss it these past few weeks?
Guilt washes over me.
I’ve been too caught up in myself. In dating. In Cole. InCupid’s Bowto notice my best friend is trudging through quicksand and sinking fast.
“Have you—”
