“And you already admitted you fucked him.” Nina held up two fingers. “Twice.”
The birthday girl cocked her head to the side. “You definitely downplayed this ‘friendship’ because from where I’m standing, it’s true love.”
Nina and I groaned in unison.
I rolled my eyes. “You want everybody to be in love so bad.”
We were laughing and joking when Aaliyah’s cousin Tamara and her wife came by with a tray of drinks.
“We want to toast my cousin,” Tamara said after we all had a drink in our hands. “Where are your dates?”
We all gestured to the three handsome men huddled together in conversation. Her wife took the rest of the drinks and went to go get them. When she got back a couple of minutes later with the men in tow, we were all weak with laughter.
Lamar slid beside me and put his arm around me. I automatically leaned into his warmth. I inhaled his cologne, and the mixture of bergamot orange, cedarwood, and musk caused me to nuzzle my face into his chest. When I realized what I was doing, my eyes flew open.
What is in these drinks?
I glanced around to see if anyone noticed, and Nina was staring me dead in my face.
Heat traveled to my cheeks when she winked at me.
I looked away before I burst out laughing.
Tamara lifted her cup and gave a sweet and funny toast.
“To Aaliyah!” we cheered in unison.
Tamara and her wife walked off, and Mecca, another one of Aaliyah’s cousins, took a picture of the couple. Once done, she headed our way.
“Aaliyah, her best friends, and their dates,” she stated as she got closer to us. “Can you get together for a picture?” Mecca asked.
The six of us huddled together and posed.
“Got it,” she said.
Someone toward the edge of the lake called her name, and she ran from the dock without a goodbye.
Nina gestured with her thumb. “I can’t remember if she’s the nosy one or if—”
“It’s her,” Aaliyah interrupted.
We all laughed.
The six of us talked for a few minutes, and it wasn’t lost on me how well we all meshed. We probably could’ve stood there and talked for the rest of the night, but the DJ put on a song from our college days, so we scrambled toward the dance floor. After fifteen straight minutes of high-intensity dancing, I was done.
“What’s wrong?” Lamar asked.
“My feet are killing me,” I admitted. “Will you sit with me?”
Lamar and I got drinks and then went in one of the tents to sit down on a bench.
“Your friends are cool,” he said.
“Yeah, they are,” I agreed, smiling toward the dance floor where they still were.
“I didn’t know what to expect.”
“Why?”
