“Ahmad, please. What, you fuckin’ somebody else?”
My phone buzzed again in my hand, and I briefly glanced at the screen to see Taelyn’s text about making a mess of my beard this weekend. My dick jumped in my sweats, and I hung up without another word to Vonnae. I wasn't thinking about her. My mind was on Taelyn.
Truth was, I missed her. I missed her face, her laugh, and that mouth. Shit, I missed the way she moaned when she couldn’t hold it in. I missed the way her thighs locked around my waist when I didn’t let up. I missed her energy.Fuck. Three more days. Saturday, she's getting all of me.
Iw a ss i t t i n gin a glass-walled conference room that Friday with five other people, and not a single thought in my head had anything to do with work. Some slides were clicking through updates on the new rollout campaign. Something about reach, targeting, and engagement. And all I could think about was Ahmad. My brain was buffering in 4K.
I blinked up at the projector screen and tried to look alive, nodding once like I was fully tapped in. Shonica had called me a simp this morning when I told her I’d gotten a wax and was preparing to get a fresh set of acrylics and new lingerie. In her words, “all of that just for a man you only spent one night with.” I told her she was a hater, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little embarrassed about how hard I was mentally riding this man.
There were just things about Ahmad like his swag, his confident demeanor, his sexy voice, and that pressure. Now thatValentine’s Day was approaching, I was scrambling to get my shit together like it was a damn red carpet event.
“Taelyn,” my boss said sharply, pulling me out of my own head.
I blinked. “Hm?”
“Are we…boringyou?”
I cleared my throat and sat up straighter, brushing imaginary lint off my blazer. “Not at all. Just mentally connecting what we’re reviewing now with the internal ad tier projections I was finalizing earlier.”
She looked at me like she wanted to call bullshit, but couldn’t prove it. “Right. Well… what are your thoughts on the influencer tier revisions?”
I clicked my pen, crossed my legs, and delivered a 45-second summary that was so clean, concise, and laced with marketing lingo, even I almost believed I’d been paying attention the whole time. She gave a tight nod and moved on. Forty minutes later, the meeting was over. I made a beeline for the elevator and dipped out fast. I had a hair appointment in thirty minutes, and my stylist didn’t play about her time.
By the time I walked intoBlow’d by Renee, the salon was vibrating with laughter and hip Gospel music blasting on the Bluetooth speaker. There were some kids in the corner doing TikToks, and the smell of pressing oil, deep conditioner, and shea butter filled the air.
“Tae-Tae!” Renee yelled from her station, cape already in her hand. “C’mon, girl. You five minutes late and seconds away from getting skipped.”
I laughed, hugging her before slipping into the chair. “Not you threatening me. This is supposed to be a safe space.”
“Mostly,” she responded, parting my hair like she had beef with it. “So, what’s the occasion? Who you tryna get cute for? Or is this just your quarterly maintenance check-in?”
I smirked. “Valentine’s Day.”
“Oop!”
Three women turned around in their chairs. Somebody said, “Ohhh okay,” like they knew what was up. A girl under the dryer pointed at me with a nail and said, “It’s giving grown woman coochie prep.”
Renee cackled. “You still messing with what’s his name?”
“Girl, no,” I turned my nose up. “Had to let that go finally… and with good reason.”
She fanned herself. “Mmhmm. Get you something new.”
“Of course. Got me out here getting even finer. Hair, nails, feet, and a wax.” I chuckled.
“Not the full combo,” she said, parting another section. “He must got good dick.”
“And do.”
I got a couple of claps, a “well damn,” and a “girl, enjoy that!” from around the salon. One older woman in the back said, “Just don’t lose your mind behind no penis.”
After Renee slayed my silk press and curled the ends with enough body to make someone fall in love at first sight, I headed two blocks down toNail Luxefor my appointment. It was packed with low R&B humming low through the speakers. The smell of acrylic and acetone was heavy in the air.
The receptionist looked up and smiled. “Taelyn, right?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said, sliding my jacket off.
My nail tech, Tiff, was already setting up. “You getting the nude almond like last time?” she asked.
