PROLOGUE
Aislin
Fall
“Hi. I’m Aislin,”I say to the stunning girl with the braids when class is over. I noticed her the second she walked through the door. How could I not? She’s the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. Her eyes are a whiskey color—her lashes dark, her brows perfectly sculpted. Her hair is long like mine, only in hundreds of braids, each of them curled at the ends. She’s curvy, with a confident but kind smile and gorgeous, warm-brown skin.
To say I was instantly attracted to her is an understatement, but more than that, she just has me curious, and I’m not even sure why.
“Zuri,” she replies, holding her hand out to me.
I shake it, her touch sending a jolt of electricity up my arm. “Aislin,” I say, before I remember I already told her that. “Sorry.” My cheeks heat, which is a totally new response for me. I’m not the type who typically gets embarrassed or shy. I’m good in the moment, can think quickly, but Zuri has my brain feeling like mush and my heart beating overtime. “Do you have another class right now?” I ask her, still vibing out what exactly I mean by that question. Am I asking her on a date? Does one even ask someone on an immediate date seconds after meeting them?
This is all so new to me, but that’s part of the reason I’m in college—for the experiences I was protected from having thanks to my now-dead father being a mob boss and all.
“I do,” she answers.
My body immediately deflates. I want to talk to this girl more. I want to get to know her, learn about her, be friends with her, and maybe more.
“I’ll take your phone number, though,” she says, and yeah, I should have thought about that. I was about to walk away defeated. Who even am I right now?
“Okay. Only if I get yours too.” I test out the flirty reply, and luckily, she grins in response.
And then I grin.
I really like smiling with Zuri.
She takes out her cell, then adds my number in as I give it to her. My phone buzzes a second later with a text.
I check it, even though I know it’s from her, and all I see is a simple heart emoji.
It makes my heart race in response.
I send one back.
“I have to go,” she says.
“Me too.”
“I thought you didn’t have class?” Zuri cocks a brow.
“Oh no. I do. I was going to skip. You would be worth it,” I say, then watch her bite her bottom lip.
“You’re going to be trouble, aren’t you, Aislin?” she asks.
“Depends on your idea of trouble,” I tell her, then stand there and watch as Zuri walks away.
I stare at my phone for hours that afternoon, trying to decide if I should be the one to text her first. When I finally realize I don’t care if it looks like I’m excited to talk to her, I stop trying to talk myself out of sending a message and actually do it.
Me: Hanging out with you would have been way better than going to class.
Zuri: Would it have been? Why is that?
This time, it’s me biting my lip while I look at my cell and try to figure out how to respond.
It doesn’t take me long to send a flirty message in reply, and the two of us continue that way—not just tonight, but all day, every day afterward.
I have no idea if she’s queer or not. I hope she is, but even if she’s not, I have fun just chatting with her. Zuri is easy to talk to, funny, wicked smart, and just…kind. I can use more kind people in my life.
