“Okay, that’s good,” she admitted.
“Say thank you, Chef Hasheem.”
She laughed, softer now. “You warmed it up; you did not cook it.”
“Wow. Hater.”
We fell into an easy quiet. Waves hitting the rocks, birds doing whatever birds do, her little toes wiggling against the tile. Every now and then, she’d look around like she still couldn’t believe all this was for her. That look did something to me every time. It made this whole “we’ll put it back in the can when we leave Zanzibar” agreement feel dumber and dumber. How would we go back to just best friends after this?
She set her fork down, brushing crumbs off her fingers.
“Hasheem?”
“Yeah?”
“You really think this”—she flipped her fingers between us—“could work? Like, outside of here. When we’re not in vacation mode and real life is loud again.”
There it was. The part she’d been chewing on since we first crossed the line.
I leaned back, studying her. She was the same girl I’d known since freshman year, the same girl that made everything feel lighter just by being in the room. The only difference now was I finally had her the way I’d been wanting her.
“We been working for sixteen years,” I said. “We just added sex.”
She huffed out a laugh, but she didn’t look away.
“I’m still your best friend,” I went on. “That don’t change because we started doing what we should’ve been doing a long time ago. When we get home, we figure the rest out together, not just you spiraling by yourself, not just me thinking by myself. Together.”
Her shoulders eased down with every word, like I was physically lifting weight off her.
“Okay,” she said quietly. “Together.”
I nodded once, letting that sit. It felt like some line had just shifted inside me for good.
“So,” she said after a minute, picking at her croissant again. “Is this the whole day? Not that I’m complaining. I could sit out here all day.”
“Nah,” I said. “This just part one.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “Part one?”
“Yup.” I leaned forward, elbows on the table. “You got anywhere to be ’til that Duality thing tonight?”
She made a face. “They said ‘optional’ dinner, so technically no. But my brain is like ‘network, sis.’”
“Cool,” I said. “Then after we eat, you got about an hour to do whatever influencer shit you need to do—post your little clips, answer some comments, yell at TikTok. After that, you mine.”
Her eyes narrowed, but there was a smile tucked in there too. “Define ‘mine.’”
“I’m stealing you off this resort,” I said. “Told the front desk to have a car ready. We going to see something.”
She sat up straighter. “Where? I thought we saw the entire island yesterday.”
“You’ll see,” I said. “Just wear a swimsuit under the dress, okay? And bring a book.”
“A book?” she repeated. “You taking me somewhere I can read? You love me.”
I didn’t say nothing to that out loud, but my chest answered for me.
“Just be ready,” I said instead. “I got the rest.”
