“You good?” Zoey asked, eyes narrowing.
Orielle had zoned out that quickly. “Yeah. Just thinking. I have a studio session in the morning.”
Cheyla pouted. “We can head out. You parked at my place anyway, right?”
“Yeah.”
Zoey was already pulling out her phone. “I’ll call the ride. You know I don’t play that drinking and driving mess.”
None of them did. Thankfully, there were plenty of car services that would get them home safely. After mingling for twenty minutes and using the restroom, they made their way outside. The bass from the club still pulsed in Orielle’s chest as they stepped out into the warm, sticky night air. A black Denali with tinted windows and fresh black rims smoothly pulled up to the entrance where they stood. Echelon Express was stamped across the back, in bold matte gold letters. Orielle raised a brow.
“Is this that Black-owned car service?”
“Yep,” Zoey answered as her heels clicked against the concrete.
Orielle tried to remember who had mentioned the business to her, but the liquor in her system made it difficult for her to recall.
Cheyla smirked. “I heard they only hire fine ass men to drive, so this should be fun.”
Before they could open the door, the driver’s side opened, and a tall, broad-shouldered man stepped out. Orielle was still giggling, but her breath caught in her throat when the driver emerged. She wasn’t expecting him to be so... mothafuckin’ fine. Those were the only two words her tequila-filled brain could muster. His towering frame, with rich mocha skin glowing under the streetlight, coal-black deep waves, a groomed low-cut beard, and dark plush lips, had Orielle openly ogling him without shame.
Dressed in all black, seemingly his color, the driver pulled the back door open and greeted them, “How y’all ladies doing tonight?”
His voice was so smooth and deep. Orielle blinked and squinted. The more she assessed him, something about him became far too familiar. When he looked at her, it all made sense.
“Najee?” Orielle said his name with a sureness that made him give her his undivided attention.
Recognizing his best friend Saleem’s cousin, Najee smiled, showcasing a set of pretty ass white teeth. “Lil’ RiRi from the block. What’s good, girl?”
Naturally, the two embraced. Orielle was sure it was meant to be friendly, but the way his scent wrapped her up, too, made her want to hold on for a second longer. It was alluring and teased her senses while causing her throat to dry a little. Najee was the first person to start calling her RiRi, and she couldn’t help but smile as they hugged.
Damn, he smells good, she thought as they separated.
“Nothing much.” Orielle smiled. “Just enjoying a night out.”
Najee took her in and appreciatively shook his head. There wasn’t anything little about Orielle anymore; not from his view. Though slim from the front with a tight core, pierced belly, hip dips, and B-cup breasts, she had toned thighs and a plump little ass that sat up nicely. Orielle’s body was an illusion until she turned to the side, or you saw her from the back.
Besides her shape, Najee couldn’t get over her beauty.She prettier than a mothafucka, he thought to himself.
Orielle possessed the type of beauty that women and men alike gushed over and couldn’t help but compliment. Her dewy, cinnamon-hued complexion, brown almond-shaped eyes with long lashes, and full lips made him want to stare all day. A lacy white top peeked out from beneath an unbuttoned red and whitestriped shirt, and a layered gold necklaces rested against her coconut-oiled chest. Strands of her light and dark brown hair framed her face in bouncy, voluminous layers. Inside the spot, oversized shades covered her eyes, but now they rested atop her head. Najee was appreciative of that.
He loved looking a woman dead in her eyes, straight into her soul. Most women showed their true emotions through their eyes. Orielle’s gaze was soft, but unreadable. She’d learned over time to wrap her softness up with a shield, and Najee couldn’t tell if she was the type of intriguing beauty he wanted to get to know more about or leave her be.
“I see that. ‘Preciate y’all for supporting the brand,” he said, holding the door open for them.
“Of course.” Orielle smiled, pulling her hand away from Cheyla.
She was trying to force her to sit in the front passenger seat, but Orielle wasn’t feeling it. The only thing she felt was all of the liquor she’d been sipping flowing through her veins. Standing up after sitting down and drinking for a long period of time was dangerous. Pair that with a fine, smelling good ass man and a vulnerable heart, and Orielle was doomed.
“So, y’all know each other?” Cheyla asked, sliding into the backseat.
“Yeah.”
“Not really.”
Orielle’s two-worded answer made Najee chuckle. “Damn. Like that?”
She chuckled as Zoey climbed in after Cheyla. “I didn’t mean it like that. Just saying it’s been a while. He’s my cousin Saleem’s best friend,” Orielle explained.
