A Love Like the Sun

Chapter 19 Moonlit Auras and Risky Things

We get dropped off at the listening party a half hour late, which Issac says is standard, and we’re more punctual than we would’ve been at a cookout back home, but it still feels too late. There are dozens of ready paparazzi who take pictures of us. Issac hugs me close and poses willingly for the onslaught. The whole time my stomach is in knots. It’s worse when we walk into the loft. I wasn’t expecting to see so many people. The lights are dim in the oversized open kitchen, and there’s a bartender at the island in the middle serving drinks. People are standing by the windows, dancing and swaying to the music. They see Issac, but they seem to focus on me. Issac simply laces our fingers and pulls me through the crowd. I’m barely breathing, time slipping somewhere behind us, I smile, nod, shake hands; my heart races. These are Issac’s people, they aren’t fans, but there are a lot of them.

When we get a second to ourselves, I whisper, “Some of them won’t stop staring.”

Issac’s quiet for a moment, but his eyes trace the length of me, lingering on my midsection before making it back to my face. He licks his lips and leans in close. “I’m convinced anything you wear will have them staring,” he says, “but this dress…that body. Your hips.”

Heat flicks across my chest. I can’t believe he just said that. But he pulls back enough to meet my eyes and there’s no denying the daring glint in his. He’s testing me, wondering how I’ll respond. For a moment I consider what would happen if I answered by kissing his lips. In the next moment, I think he might like it.

Thankfully, someone calls our names from behind and breaks the challenge brewing between us.

“You made it,” Lauren says, glamorous as ever as she pushes her way through the crowd. She hugs me and points to Josh in the corner of the room. I’m happy to see familiar faces, and happier that Lauren is chatty. Better to distract me from Issac’s relentless stare and that smile tugging on his mouth.

“Snatching your girl for a bit,” she says before pulling me away from him.

At the bar, Lauren and I sip on margaritas while she tells me about her ex, a singer, who is currently sitting a few feet away, pretending she doesn’t exist. Said ex used to hide her at home instead of bringing her to these parties, so she never got the chance to be the social butterfly she is on this side of town until Josh.

“And I’m glad you’re here too,” she says. Then: “Oh! You’ll be with us during Fall Fashion Week, right? Issac is going to need his girl in the audience for how special this one will be for him. Maybe we can sit together.”

Issac and I will be broken up by September, and even though we’re going to tell the media that we’re remaining friends, it’ll be too soon for me to show my face. And hopefully I’ll be buried in business at the shop by then. Besides, Issac hasn’t told me how important Fall Fashion Week is to him, so maybe it’s less than Lauren thinks. Or maybe it’ll be special, but he doesn’t think I’d want to be there because I haven’t shown him otherwise.

The last thought has me decided. “Of course I’m going,” I tell Lauren. Because I should try to be a part of his new life, regardless of if we’re together. I turn my glass to lick salt off the rim, figuring that one night of old habits won’t hurt my health. I feel good today, anyway. I’m not as tired, and I haven’t had a headache, and I really, really need this drink right now with the group of women staring and whispering close by. I push my hair out of my face, smile, and wave. I’ll feel less than only if I allow it.

Lauren snickers, noticing them shifting their focus to something else. “You’d think Issac was Barack Obama the way they’re examining you. But…they’re probably wondering what designer styled you tonight.”

My face flushes as I remember the heat in Issac’s words. I take another long sip. Then, “Shout-out to this thirty-dollar number for giving more.”

The woman I’m talking to makes more money in one commission than I might see all year, but she still bumps her hip against mine and says, “Way to wear it, boo.”

Yeah. Kat would love Lauren. I pull out my phone, shoot her and Lex a quick text in the group chat. I love y’all. The dress was a success. When I look up from my screen, I catch Issac watching me from across the room. He smiles, then shifts to continue his conversation with two people wearing stunning lavender suit jackets. I selfishly wonder when he’ll come grab me so we can meet Shida Anala because I haven’t forgotten for a single second that somewhere in this loft there’s a studio, and in that studio songs that I’ll probably cherish are being recorded. I wonder how many times Lauren got to meet Shida. I wonder how she seems unaffected by being in this space right now. I take note, hoping to keep my composure tonight too.

Lauren and I start to sway to a song while sipping our drinks, but then Issac comes up behind me like he heard my wishes through our shared mind.

He bends to put his chin in the crook of my neck, and my traitorous body aches for him to kiss me there.

“Lau,” he says, quick with the nicknames, “would you mind if I steal my girl back to show her the studio?”

The words my girl are so smooth on his tongue, I can’t pretend my pulse wasn’t picking up before he got to the part about the studio. Lauren sulks and tells him he’ll have to bring me back soon.

“Oh, that part is all on her,” he says. “Don’t come for me if she decides to kick it solely in the studio after meeting Shida. I might have to leave her there myself.”

“I love how you’re both talking about me like I’m not here,” I say. “But he’s right, Lauren, I’m worried a bodyguard might have to drag me out of there. I’m a raging fan.”

She laughs and raises her glass at me. “Noted. I’ll make sure no one records you getting thrown out.”

“I appreciate that,” I say, then turn in Issac’s arms, beaming up at him while he gently rubs my lower back. “I’m ready.”

Issac leads me down a long hallway into a dark room, through a door, and into another room. The studio is large, has a white love seat on one wall, fluffy floor pillows, and blue string lights hanging from the ceiling. I wonder if they set it up like this just for Shida and her ethereal vibes. The six other people here make my throat go dry. I grew up on the music of Kayln Connor and Kid Krews and they are in this very room, watching Shida Anala sing in the booth in front of us. They nod their heads at me and shake hands with Issac before we slip to the back to sit on the love seat. Shida Anala has a soft voice but commands attention the same way Issac commands a room. Her lyrics aren’t for the weak of heart. She tears apart past lovers with her melodic words. Her newest song is about catching a case for finding out the love of her life left her for someone else but is trying to come back for just bits and pieces of what they once shared.

Everyone is in a trance listening to her. Chills climb my spine; goose bumps travel my bare thighs. I blink back tears, thankful that it’s dark while she fills the space with magic.

Issac’s eyes are locked on Shida when I glance up at him. Music has always been a part of our relationship. We were barely fourteen, walking home from school together, rapping Tupac’s and Biggie’s lyrics back and forth while sharing a big stick of Slim Jim. We were fifteen and lying on my bedroom rug listening to album after album till the songs soothed small heartbreaks. We are grown now, and when we want to say Hi, I miss you, I’m thinking of you, but the space between us feels too big to do it with a phone call, we’ll do it with a song. I’m happy to see Shida live, it’s like a dream, but I’m not sure it would feel the same way if Issac weren’t sitting right beside me. After this night, I’ll forgo my turn with the Bluetooth three times to thank him.

In the dark of the room, with no one watching us, with no need to pretend, I find his hand, and he doesn’t hesitate to squeeze mine. We are still linked when Shida Anala takes off the headphones and gives a small, shy smile through the booth window. Everyone’s hyped after that, singing the lyrics back at her through the glass as the engineer gets to work on the track to replay parts for us. She comes out of the booth and is yellow and blue energy, radiant yet calm in the chaos of excitement she just made happen, a slow-moving river with power just beneath the surface. She spies Issac first, grins, and heads toward us. He lets go of my hand and stands to hug her, wrapping her tiny frame in his. She’s even more slender than Melinda, and I hate myself for wondering if he likes the way she feels in his arms compared to the way I feel.

“You made it,” she says, excited, sounding surprised.

How is she shy and not shy all at once? I remember what Issac said to me about being brave and decide maybe Shida is kindred, even though I probably couldn’t tell her that without her wondering why I’d think to compare us.

“Of course I did,” Issac says. And because he’ll always have unfiltered jokes, adds, “Don’t want to be on your hit list.”

Shida Anala must think it’s endearing because she points at him as if to say he’s right. I think they’ll go on like this, and I’m happy just to sit and watch, but then he reaches a hand to help me up. “And I brought your one demand with me. Meet Laniah.”

My heart is ripping through my chest when I awkwardly extend my hand to shake hers. She takes it, then uses her other hand to sandwich both of mine. Her skin is soft, and this is Shida Anala—the artist who makes me cry in the shower when she sings about healing—holding my hand. She demanded for me to be here? I feel like I’m going to faint staring into her piercing cat-shaped eyes.

“I couldn’t wait to meet you,” she says. “I hope we can talk about Wildly Green. My natural hair could use special attention.”

I’m shaking, the already hard-to-come-by words hiding, but Shida just mentioned my shop, the dream I’ve built with my mom, and I won’t mess up this opportunity for either of us by smiling and nodding like I always do.

“I’d be happy to find exactly what works for you,” I say. “We can come up with a care plan and adjust from there.”

“That sounds lovely,” she says with a pleased smile. Then: “I’ve been told that your aura is like moonlight, and I don’t know you well yet, but I can already tell Issac was right.”

I smile, breathe deep, eyes burning while watching him rub the bridge of his nose.

Is he nervous? I know I am.

Because Shida Anala is exactly as I imagined, but he’s the one who made my heart glow.

The crowd is denser than it was earlier, the music louder. Lauren is with Josh, and she pulls me and Issac between them. We run through four songs together, dancing silly then serious and back to match the beats. I dip Lauren, and she throws her head back and laughs. I even dance with Josh. It’s all fun until the song switches and Josh steals Lauren from me. I grab Issac for a reggaeton song, thinking it’ll be normal, but when he grasps my hip and turns me around so my back is to him, I shiver.

When I start moving against him, he matches me, then runs one hand up my torso while we grind. We’re moving so well together that I try not to think of how much time we’ve spent not doing this. We did dance close during senior prom, but adult Issac uses the hand resting against my stomach to bring me flush against him. Adult Issac bends so his lips are inches from the shell of my ear. I can feel his breath there, my ass pressed into him, I’m on fire everywhere our body touches.

“You look so damn good,” he whispers, sounding drunk off the feel of me.

I close my eyes, heart thrumming, and slide an arm up to hold the back of his neck, to keep him right here. But I wasn’t prepared for the swelling, the pulsing ache between my thighs at the feel of him growing hard against me. A soft moan slips from my mouth just as the song changes.

My brain is hazy. Something else plays over the speakers. Everyone throws their hands in the air. It takes me and Issac a few seconds to pull apart and start singing the lyrics.

And for the rest of the party, I have to remember to breathe.