“The club be cracking like that every weekend?” Cyren wondered.
“For the most part. The ones I accept invitations to, do.”
Nodding, Cyren wondered what that life was like. Club hopping every weekend had to be fun, but a burnout as well. “That’s what’s up. Sounds like a good time.”
“I’d invite you out, but I don’t think you and my friends would mesh.” Skylar glanced at her through the mirror to gauge her reaction.
Cyren didn’t have one. She let out a chuckle. “Of course we wouldn’t.”
Skylar’s hand paused mid-motion. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“If they act anything like you, I know for a fact I wouldn’t want to be around them.”
Skylar spun around in her upholstered swivel chair to face her. The short, red mini dress almost revealed too much as she swiftly turned. Cyren might have noticed the hurt flicker in her eyes, but it disappeared just as fast as it appeared.
“I don’t act like anything, so I’m not sure what you’re getting at,” Skylar snapped.
“It means that you’ve been acting weird with me since I moved here. I don’t understand what the issue is.”
Cyren was tired of holding her tongue, pretending that the way Skylar treated her was okay.
“Girl”— Skylar laughed, turning back around as if she were now too good to hold a conversation with her and make eye contact— “I don’t have an issue with you.”
“You do, but I’m not trying to convince you. I’m just trying to figure out what it is. I’ve never done anything to you, and I hate that it feels like I did. We’re cousins. First cousins at that. We used to be close, and now it’s like I don’t even know you.”
Her words were honest but not harsh. She wasn’t trying to turn this into an argument. Skylar’s guard slipped for a split second, but it was right back up.
“People grow up,” she said, shrugging. “Things change.”
Cyren studied her reflection. Something in her chest tightened at how easy she made that sound. As if she was just supposed to go with the flow of life with no concern or questions.
“I guess,” she murmured. “I just didn’t think we’d be one of those things.”
Skylar picked up her gloss, ready to end the conversation. “Well, we are.”
What Cyren wanted to do was really tell her what the issue was, but that wasn’t her place. She’d said enough, and sometimes, people needed to reflect within themselves first. Cyren wasn’t prepared to go down that road with her, and Skylar wasn’t prepared to face her own truths.
There hadn’t always been hostility between them, and Skylar couldn’t quite pinpoint when or where it started. They were close as teenagers, but somewhere between Cyren excelling in school and sports, and the family constantly gloating about her, rubbed Skylar the wrong way. It didn’t help that their family and even their friends compared them.
Skylar was so tired of hearing how Cyren had moved away and was in college on her own, while she stayed at home and became a well-known influencer and content creator. The two weren’t the same, and one wasn’t better than the other, but Skylar felt otherwise.
She couldn’t tell Cyren without sounding crazy that she hated the way her mom had softened toward her after Nicole passed. Nia had been pouring into her in ways Skylar felt like she had to compete with. All the while, she was grieving too. Not just her brother, but her aunt as well. It was a sticky, pain-filled situation that one conversation, while she was getting ready to go drink and party her pain away, wouldn’t fix.
Cyren exhaled, slowly. She wasn’t about to argue about her own experience or try to convince Skylar of something she’d never see from her perspective.
“Alright. If that’s what you want to call it. Enjoy your night and be safe.”
She turned and walked out, not waiting for a response this time. There was no love lost on Cyren’s end, just recognition. The realization that not every relationship was meant to staythe same, no matter how close people were, was something she had to constantly remind herself of. It didn’t matter if they were family; those relationships could end, too.
Her heart felt heavy as she went back to her bedroom to grab her phone before heading to the kitchen. Cyren was sure they’d have another conversation, but fewer words would probably be spoken then. For now, she needed to fill her growling stomach and call Gabi back.
Opening the fridge, she pulled out the container Mama Dot sent her home with, popped the lid off, then slid it into the microwave and placed the plastic covering over it. She leaned against the counter while it warmed, unlocking her phone out of habit.
Though living with her uncle sounded nice, she was glad Whitnee had sent over a few apartment listings earlier. She was a realtor and knew about the best properties at reasonable rates and in great neighborhoods. Opening a few she sent, Cyren scrolled through and approved. They were just her style: modern, open layouts, updated kitchens, balconies, and hardwood floors.
Clearly, Whitnee knew what she liked without needing to ask about her interests. Cyren wasn’t completely sold on moving, but she didn’t oppose it either. Tony shouldn’t have planted the idea in her mind because it’d be all she thought about. Browsing nice complexes was a good start, though. The microwave beeped, and she grabbed the container before reaching into the drawer for a fork. She couldn’t even stir her food or check its temperature thanks to the incoming call.
Cyren looked at Heavy’s name on her screen and thought about ignoring the call for a second, but she answered instead. “Hello?”
