Page 35 of Kisses Behind The Spotlight 2: Finale

“Shit, you know what? Hell yeah,” Stepp affirmed, passing me the blunt.

We were about to own a lounge soon.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Stefon “Stepp” Mathews

Ipressed the doorbell button and the door swung open seconds later.

“Hey, Stepp.”

“Wassup, Khaleesi?”

“Feels like everything is up,” she huffed, and massaged her temples. “You can go ahead out back. You’re the second to arrive, but more people are coming,” Khaleesi greeted me in a rushed tone. I followed her down the short hallway.

You couldn’t miss the sliding glass door, so I went out back as she requested. My palms got sweaty the further I walked through the unfamiliar house. I had never felt that kind of angst. I slipped my hand into my slacks pocket and ran my fingertips across the folded piece of paper to make sure it was secure.

As I entered the backyard, the faint salty smell of the Hillsborough Bay hit me before I caught a glimpse of the water. When I did, that shit was calming. The sunset stretched across the bay, casting a warm golden light over the water. The serene backdrop instantly calmed my nerves.

A long wooden table sat in the strip of the lawn between the pool and the bay. A white canopy swayed gently with the faint breeze. The table was lined with crisp white linen, flickering candles, and white roses. My stomach rumbled; I’d been to enough of these bougie ass parties to know that the food was about to slap.

When Vincent invited me to Quincy’s birthday dinner, I thought about declining, but Amill blocked my number after I dropped her off at her spot last week. I would’ve gone to the parking garage to wait for her and force a conversation, but Amill did what she always did. Ran!

That time was different, though. It felt more final. She’d never changed her number on me or blocked me on social media, but my access to her was revoked. Communication stopped cold turkey. Even when Amill broke up with me before Thanksgiving and ran to Cali, we still checked in once a week.

Xain let it slip that her ass was staying on Siesta Beach while they coordinated the photoshoot, but I knew Amill better than that. She was hiding from me. Too bad she couldn’t avoid me at her brother’s birthday dinner.

“Stepp?” Xain questioned when he saw me cutting across the grass. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Vincent told me to slide through since I was still in town with no departure date in sight at the moment. We’re still working on that thing,” I informed him, fluffing out my black Prada linen shirt.

“You know she brought that nigga to dinner, right?” He informed me.

My heart skipped a beat, and my breathing slowed. I spent most of the day mentally preparing for a conversation with Amill, but I took that as a sign to leave her alone.

“How the fuck am I supposed to know that when Amill blocked me, and you refuse to tell me what hotel she’s been staying at? You really ain’t shit for real,” I vexed. “Let me go before anybody sees me. Just pretend I was never here,” I grumbled.

From what I understood, Amill hadn’t brought him around the family, and just my luck, she decided to change that today. It was my own fault, and I had to go before I ruined the birthday dinner.

“Too late,” Xain quipped, looking over my shoulder. “Do not ruin this party, Stepp.”

A bright smile spread across his face, and I hoped it was Vincent, Yaseer, anybody besides Amill. That would be too much like right.

“Is that Stepp?” Amill’s soft voice questioned him.

“It is.” Xain slapped me on my shoulder, forcing me to turn around.

I had to blink twice; she looked good as fuck. Her hair was parted down the middle, falling in long waves that framed her face perfectly. A fitted ivory dress with spaghetti straps and a lace-trimmed hem stopped just above her knees. The pair of diamond studs sparkling in her ear were a Valentine’s Day gift from me. I smiled, knowing that she didn’t flush my shit down the toilet while she had me blocked.

“What are you doing here?” Amill questioned, strutting across the concrete pool deck toward us. My eyes drifted to their clasped hands, and my jaw flexed. Amill released her grip on Travis’ hand and clutched the tiny rose-gold, crystal-encrusted purse with her medium-length nails that matched her dress. “I didn’t know you and Quincy were close.”

“We aren’t. Vincent invited me since I’m in town,” I explained, my eyes locked on hers.

Amill fidgeted under my gaze. Her ass was more unsettled than I was. She was likely mulling over that last text I sent her, promising to break his face if we crossed paths. This shit felt surreal. Xain squeezed my shoulder as a reminder for me to chill.

“Okay, well, this is Travis,” Amill broke the awkward silence.

“Wassup,” he stated.