“You know she still thinks I broke y’all up. I’m sure, in her mind, I snatched that ring off her hand and put it on mine.” I swallowed, staring at the floor.
“Simone took that ring off by herself. Don’t put that on you.” Hasheem snorted.
“She took it off ’cause you wouldn’t stop being my friend, Hashy.”
“Nah,” he said, shaking his head once. “She took that ring off ’cause she thought she was gon’ come in and rearrange the shit we already had going on. You been my people since jump. She knew that when you slid me her number. She knew that when she said yes. She don’t got nobody to blame but her.”
“She’s gonna make it weird.”
“She might,” he said. “But that ain’t our job to fix. Our job is to smile for these cameras, drink whatever free shit they hand us, and make sure your little followers eat this up.”
“My little followers?” A reluctant smile pulled at my mouth.
He smirked. “You know what I mean—internet girls, book girlies, all them.”
I stood from the bed and blew out another breath, starting to pace again. “What if she brought me here to embarrass me?” The words tumbled out before I could stop them. “Like, what if this whole thing is some long game sabotage? What if this is her weird revenge plot or some twisted way to get you back, and I’m just”—I waved a hand between us—“here on this couples’ trip with you, faking like you my man, looking stupid. What if she set all this up just to watch me crash and burn?”
“Harlowe.” Hasheem called my name, attempting to stop my pacing, but I kept going like I didn’t hear him.
“What if she figures out this is all fake? What if Duality blacklists me? No other brand is going to want to touch me.”
“Harlowe,” he said again, but this time, he was right in front of me.
I didn’t even register him moving until my back met the cool edge of the dresser. He’d stepped into my path, big body blocking the rest of the room like a wall. One hand braced beside my hip on the dresser, the other hovered near my waist like he was fighting the urge to touch me. My breath hitched.
“Look at me,” he commanded, and I tried to focus on the collar of his tee instead of his mouth, but it didn’t help because his scent filled my nostrils. We were close enough that if I leaned forward, our noses would brush.
“Harlowe,” he repeated, placing his hand under my chin. “Look at me.” He dragged my gaze up to his. “Ain’t nobody flying you damn near twenty hours just to play in your face,” he said. “You’re the prize here, Harlowe. If anybody think they gon’ use this trip to embarrass you, they gon’ have to run that through me first. And that’s not happening.” I swallowed hard. “I ain’t about to let nobody play in your face while I’m standing right here. That’s dead. You know that.”
His words settled between us, and my pulse was loud in my ears. With him that close to me—his chest brushing mine, hand under my chin, the other still hovering over my waist—it was like my brain finally forgot I was spiraling. For a second, Simone was the furthest thing from my mind.
“You hear me?” He searched my face like he was making sure I heard him, then finally eased back, but the heat between us stayed.
“We not standing in this princess ass room in Zanzibar, Tanzania, acting like she is the main character in your story,” he said. “She not.”
“You been practicing that speech or something?”
“Nah.” He smirked. “I’m just not about to let you spin out over a motherfucker who already showed you they don’t deserve you.” His words landed somewhere that I was sure wasn’t appropriate for our friendship dynamic. So before we blurred the lines any further, I pushed off the dresser. I needed to get out of his space.
“I need a shower,” I blurted. “If I think about Simone one more second, I’m gonna break out in damn hives.”
“Go ahead.” He was already reaching for my suitcase like it was muscle memory. “I’ll unpack us.”
“Don’t touch any of my personal items, Hasheem,” I muttered as I grabbed my toiletry bag and the dress I’d picked for tonight. “My panties are in there.”
“Lowe, I been handling your clothes since your mama used to drop you at our house,” he said, already unzipping my packing cubes. “I don’t care about yo’ panties.” That shut me right up as I made my way into the ridiculously big bathroom. I caught my reflection in the mirror and shook my head. My eyes were puffy, lips were dry, and my edges were through.
“Girl,” I told the mirror. “You look like you been fighting TSA.”
I made my way over to the massive walk-in shower and started the water before stepping in. I let the water beat down on my shoulders and wash away any thoughts I’d had of Simone, her being here, her maybe being the reason I was even here, and her thinking she’d been right all this time about me and Hasheem. She had always side-eyed us, always hinted that we were too close. I pressed my forehead to the cool tile and took a breath before grabbing the washcloth and running it over my chest, arms, and legs. This trip was already turning out to be a lot. Simone was here, and I couldn’t get the taste of Hasheem’s lips off my damn mind. We were supposed to be pretending, but suddenly, every time he touched me, my juices leaked.
“Get it together, Harlowe.” I turned off the water, stepped out of the shower, and wrapped myself in a towel. The cool air hit me instantly as I blew out a sigh. I wasn’t going to fumble this trip, and I damn sure wasn’t going to cross the line with Hasheem. I made my way over to the vanity mirror and took a seat. Leaning toward the mirror, I wiped a circle in the fog.
“Okay, Harlowe, game plan. Remember why you’re here. Make content. Grow your brand. Secure your bag. Don’t let Simone make you feel small, and for the love of God, do not fall for your best friend.”
My mouth was on the floor as I walked into the welcome mixer hand in hand with Hasheem. I had never seen so many fine ass Black couples in one place giving couples goals. It was like I’d walked right into one of my romance novels.
“This is beautiful,” I said, admiring the soft pink and gold lights that were strung up on the beach.
