Chapter 4 Hasheem
First class wasn’t new to me. I flew first class anytime I flew.
I’d worked hard to get to where I was in life, and I liked to enjoy the benefits.
First class on somebody else’s dime though?
That was new. This wasn’t the regular bigger seats, free drinks shit either.
This was a damn apartment in the sky. Each of us had our own little cubby with a big ass TV in the front that had our names on it.
Shit, I was going to have to fly internationally more often.
They even had a bottle of champagne sitting in an ice bucket waiting for us.
All this should’ve calmed Harlowe’s ass down. Instead, it seemed like it cranked her anxiety up more.
“Alright,” she said, turning toward me, curls bouncing in her face. “We gotta send them at least one travel clip before we land. Like a quick ‘we’re on the way, look at us being cute’ type thing.”
“Say less,” I told her, leaning back. “I’m here to follow your lead. You the director.” That made the corner of her mouth turn up.
“Okay. Um . . . just sit there. I’ll do all the talking.” She set her little tripod up on the tray table, angled the camera in our direction, checked her hair on the screen, and then hit record.
“Hey, Duality fam,” she said in that cute little professional voice she used on her page. “It’s Harlowe and—”
“Hasheem,” I jumped in, almost missing my cue.
I gave the camera a polite little smile and sat back while she did her thing.
I wasn’t a be on camera type of nigga. All that social media, look at me shit felt too performative for my taste.
It was a woman’s lane as far as I was concerned, but I would play my part for Harlowe.
“We are headed to Zanzibar for The Duality Experience Couples’ Escape,” she went on. “We’re so excited to celebrate Black love, soft life, and… nope.” She stopped the video and frowned. “Yeah, no,” she said. “It’s too scripted.”
“Let me see.” I sat up. “Play it back.”
She lifted her phone so we could both watch and let the video play back. She was right, the shit looked weak. We were sitting too damn far apart, facing the camera like this was an orientation video or some shit.
“Yeah, that’s trash,” I said. “We look like we on a damn Zoom call.”
“Oh my God,” she groaned, dropping her head back. “We do. We really do. Ugh. How are we going to pull this off?”
“You’re overthinking it, man, watch out.” I grabbed her phone from her hands before she could protest and held it up so we were both in the frame.
“Hasheem,” she warned, side-eye already loading.
“Chill,” I said, hitting record. “I got it.” I leaned back in my seat and draped my arm behind her headrest.
“Yo,” I said into the camera. “It’s boyfriend here. Y’all finally get to see the man Harlowe has been hiding.”
“Boy, shut up.” She slapped my thigh, but she was smiling, so I kept going.
“We on this long-ass flight headed to Zanzibar,” I said, glancing down at her. “The Duality Experience. Black love, Black soft life, all that good shit. She dragged me out the city for y’all.”
“Dragged is crazy,” she cut in, scooting closer like muscle memory. “Hey, Duality fam,” she added. “It’s Harlowe and Hasheem, and we are officially on our way to The Duality Experience Couples’ Escape Zanzibar. Three days of Black romance, Black luxury, and—”
I smiled down at her as she did her thing.
She was in her bag now, talking with her hands and giving that magnetic energy only she could.
I watched her more than I watched the screen.
I enjoyed seeing her in action. She was good at what she did.
I could see why brands were paying her thirty K to sit pretty and talk about love and books and shit.
I shifted a little closer, bringing my face into the corner of the frame, letting my hand rest easily on the back of her seat.
“So when you see us on the island, just know I’m here against my will.”
“Don’t listen to him.” She laughed that laugh that always hit me in the chest. “He could’ve said no. But he loves me, so—”
On instinct, I leaned over to press a quick kiss to her cheek.
Nothing too much but enough to make the people watching think we were madly in love.
Before my lips hit her cheek, she turned her head to look up at me, and our lips met.
For half a second, everything went quiet in my head.
Shit, there was no plane noise, no camera, nothing.
Just the feel of her soft, glossy lips on mine.
I could feel her body tense, but she didn’t pull away, and I didn’t either.
I let it linger a bit longer than I should’ve, enough for my dick to twitch in my sweats before pulling back like it was nothing.
Her eyes were wide, but the camera was still rolling, so instead of saying anything, she turned back to the camera.
“So, yeah,” she said quickly, turning the smile back on.
“We’re headed to Zanzibar, and we cannot wait to show y’all all the Black love vibes, the romance, the content, all of it.
Make sure you’re following along on Duality’s page and mine.
Because it’s about to be a movie.” She reached forward and stopped the recording like it was nothing, but I could see the pounding in her chest. She sat back in her seat, not saying a word, like her brain hadn’t caught up to what her body had just done.
Shit, mine hadn’t either if I was being honest.
“Harlowe,” I said.
“Yeah?” She blinked
“You straight?” I asked, watching her face. I already knew the answer. She was in her head. “You look like you just saw a ghost or some shit.”
“I’m fine. Just . . . processing.” That was code for overthinking.
“This ain’t gotta be weird. We gon’ have to kiss more than that,” I said.
“You know that, right?” I didn’t know who I was trying to convince more, Harlowe or me.
I’d just crossed a line that I was sure I’d never cross.
This is your brother’s ex, your best friend.
I had to stand ten toes down on not crossing that line.
“I know,” she said quickly, eyes darting back to the phone. “I know. It’s . . . it’s fine.”
“I’m that bad of a kisser?” I asked, trying to relax the moment and get her out of her head.
“No. Don’t start.” She shook her head. “It’s just... We kissed. This is insane.”
“We can take kissing off the table,” I suggested. “We can keep this thing as PG as you need it to be.”
“No, no.”
“Oh, so you liked it?” I couldn’t stop the smirk that was forming on my lips. “That’s what I’m hearing.” That finally pulled a real laugh out of her ass.
“Shut up,” she said, shoving my shoulder. “It was a work kiss. We’re going to have to kiss. I just—”
“If you don’t want to do something, we don’t do it. Simple as that. I’m following your lead.”
“Let’s just keep the kissing to a minimum. Only when we absolutely have to.”
“Got it.” I lifted my hands like I was surrendering. “Get your little video together then before the Wi-Fi starts acting stupid.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” She settled into her seat and started tapping on her phone.
“Let me trim this and send it before we take off.” She plugged in her headphones and opened her editing app like nothing life changing had just happened.
I turned to look out the window, let my eyes fall shut, and tried not to think that my brother’s ex and my best friend had the softest lips I’d ever tasted.
By the time we cleared immigration and customs, I knew two things for sure.
It was Thursday morning in Zanzibar, but my body still swore it was Wednesday night in Azalea.
We’d been traveling for over fifteen hours, and I was happy to finally have my feet back on the ground.
My legs were shaky, but I was cool. I could do this traveling shit in my sleep.
Harlowe though? She was acting like we’d just survived the hunger games or some shit.
That was her—big reactions, high dramatics.
It was what made her fun to be around. I shook my head and fell in step behind her, rolling both our suitcases while she pointed at every damn sign like she was selling the open seas.
“We’re in baggage claim . . . ground transport .
. . this way,” she muttered, narrating under her breath.
We followed the overhead arrows for ground transport, her phone going up every few feet so she could catch content.
I just followed behind her doing a few nods to the camera as we made our way through the airport.
As soon as the double doors to the airport slid open and we stepped out, the Africa heat hit us with no remorse that it was still winter time back home.
“Damn!” I squinted against the sun. “Welcome to Africa, I guess.”
“Y’all. Look at this.” Harlowe bounced beside me, her phone already up talking to her followers. “We made it to Zanzibar.”
I waved at the camera and then let her have it while I scanned the sidewalk.
There were people and cabs lined up alongside the street.
People were yelling in Swahili and English, trying to get their hustle on.
I respected it. My eyes sailed through the crowd until they landed on a short man holding a little handheld sign at the end of the road.
THE Duality EXPERIENCE–Harlowe DAYE+ GUEST
“That’s us,” I said, nodding toward it, and Harlowe followed my gaze.
“Oh my God,” she whispered. “Private airport transportation. Kellon and Phileigh know how to throw a brand trip. Okay.” She did the finger and thumb tap into the camera.
“Come on,” I said, steering her with a hand at the small of her back. “Before somebody else decides they want to be Harlowe and guest.”
“Ms. Daye?” he asked as we approached. His eyes flicked between the two of us.
“Yeah. That’s me,” she said to the slim, brown-skinned dude in a branded polo I assumed was our driver. “This is Hasheem, my plus one.”
I extended my hand to shake his.
“Karibu. Welcome. Let me take your bags.”