I felt that, but I didn’t clap back.
“Never. But congrats, girl. Let’s drink to that,” I said, lifting my glass.
Everybody toasted.
Except her.
I brushed it off, and dinner moved on, but I couldn’t stop looking at her. Something was off.
She didn’t come off like the same quiet, innocent virgin I met three years ago. She had been dating more, especially after her breast reduction and tummy tuck surgery last year. I could tell she was fully healed, but that wasn’t it.
It was the way she moved.
The way she answered me.
The way she guarded that deal.
I started wondering if she really was a virgin still.
$$$$$$$
Later that night, I went to the club with another nigga. I wasn’t even pressed about him; I just wasn’t about to sit in the house thinking about Sade and Vaughn all night.
We walked in, trap music loud, section already set. I was halfway listening to him talk when I saw Vaughn across the room.
All black.
LA hat low.
Prada shades on.
Jewelry shining, but he wasn’t doing too much.
He looked… off.
Not in a bad way.
Just not how he usually carried himself.
He wasn’t laughing, wasn’t entertaining women, just sitting there like he was somewhere else mentally.
I stopped paying attention to my date.
“Give me a second,” I told him, already standing up.
He tried to grab my hand. “Where you going?”
“Bathroom. I’ll be right back.”
I made my way over to Vaughn, sliding into his section like I was invited.
He looked up at me.
“Alana.”
“Vaughn.” I smiled, but I was studying him. “You’ve been missing.”
“I’ve been working.”
