Chapter 5 Harlowe #2
“It’s dope seeing my people in love.” Hasheem ushered me inside. His hand settled firmly on the small of my back a little too easily, like he was getting comfortable doing it. “You ready to sell madly in love?” he whispered in my ear.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I agreed as he steered us toward the bar.
“What you want to drink?”
“Something pretty and pink that tastes like juice with a little kick.”
“Say less.” He flagged the bartender down, and I did what I came here to do—record content. I pulled out my camera and filmed a quick pan of the room and then Hasheem ordering our drinks at the bar.
“Here.” Hasheem handed me a glass with a little rose petal floating on top.
“Ooh.” I took a sip and winced. “Oh. This is strong.”
“Good.” He tapped his glass against mine. “You need to loosen up.”
The drink hit fast. It was sweet at first, then that slow burn hit all the way down my chest. I took another sip anyway.
I was going to need all the help I could get playing Hasheem’s fake girlfriend in front of all these real life couples.
We had barely made it three sips in before another couple slid up next to us.
I recognized them from the bus. They were the only couple that was awake.
“Hey.” Tiana grinned. “Y’all settling in okay?”
“Trying to,” I said. “Jet lag is winning, but we pushing through.”
Malik nodded at Hasheem. “You the firefighter, right?”
“Yeah.” Hasheem gave him one of those chin lifts men do. “Azalea County.”
“Oh, he a hero-hero,” Tiana said, fanning herself with her wristband. “How y’all meet?”
“High school best friends,” I answered automatically.
Tiana’s mouth dropped open. “Oh, y’all just been secretly pining over each other for years?”
I laughed a little too loud. “Something like that,” I lied.
“So what’s y’all’s content lane again?” Malik asked. “We do lifestyle and money talks. We help couples navigate finances.”
“That’s so cool.” I perked up a little. “I’m a Booktoker. I give romance recs, reading vlogs, all that nerd stuff.”
“And date nights,” Tiana added. “I told you I’m a follower. I love your date night reels.”
My stomach dipped. Those “date night” reels were solo dinners with my tripod and a good angle—me, a book, and whatever restaurant didn’t kick me out for setting up my ring light.
“I just be trying to brag on my man,” I said smoothly, tipping my head toward Hasheem. “He plans the best date nights.”
“Shit, maybe you can help a brother out then, my guy,” Malik said, laughing.
“Anytime.” Hasheem took a slow sip of his drink, then slid his arm around my waist like it was the easiest thing in the world. His hand landed just shy of my hip. My whole body clocked it.
“Okay, okay, Duality couples.” The DJ’s voice boomed over the music, making the room jump. “How we feeling tonight?” The room answered with cheers and whistles.
“We outside!” Someone called out as Hasheem’s fingers tapped against my waist. I forced my smile a little wider and leaned into him like it was all second nature, being sure to get it all on camera.
“We’re gonna ease into things with a little dance floor game,” the DJ announced. “I want y’all on the dance floor. So when I call the number of years you and yo’ boo have been together, I want you to find a space, get real close, and let’s kick this weekend off right. Y’all hear me?”
“Yesss!” The crowd responded, and he continued.
“That’s what I like to hear. Let’s get this party started. If you’ve been together over twenty years?” A few couples stepped out, and the room erupted in applause. Being together for twenty years was a big feat. I patted my thigh with my other hand as I smiled at the couples. “Fifteen Years?”
I glanced up at Hasheem. “We technically qualified for that, you know?”
“Technically.” He raised a brow. “We gotta stick to the script though.”
I nodded. According to the pamphlet, we’d been officially a couple for eight months.
“Ten?” The DJ announced.
“Come on, babe, that’s us.” Tiana grabbed Malik’s hand and pulled him to the dance floor. I cheered them on, turning my camera around to record the couples as the DJ kept calling out years.
“Alright now. Where the couples that’s just getting started? Less than one year.”
“That’s us.” Hasheem led me onto the floor, weaving us into the crowd until we were near the middle.
The band shifted into a slow groove. The Mary J.
Blige version of “Sweet Thing” filled the speakers.
Hasheem’s hands settled, one at the small of my back, and the other caught my hand and brought it up to rest against his chest. Heat pooled low in my stomach as we started to sway side by side.
My feet followed on autopilot. It should’ve been simple, just a slow dance, one we’d probably done a hundred times at parties over the years, but this didn’t feel like those dances. He pulled me closer, closing the last inch of space between us, and my breath hitched.
“Stop overthinking,” he whispered into my temple. “You stiff as hell.”
“I am not,” I whispered back.
“You are,” he said. “You act like we ain’t danced before.”
I exhaled slowly. He was right. This was no different than any other dance.
I took a deep breath and allowed my body to rest in his arms and get lost in the music as I hummed along with the words.
Something firm and unmistakable pressed against my lower stomach.
Heat shot through me so fast I missed a step.
For a second, I thought I’d imagined it, but when I shifted, it was still there, solid and very much saying hello.
I glanced down before I could stop myself, and sure enough, there was Hasheem’s third leg smiling up at me through his pants.
Hasheem’s fingers flexed at the small of my back like he’d noticed the exact moment I realized what was happening.
“Don’t,” he warned softly.
“Don’t what?” I whispered, my throat suddenly dry.
“Make it weird,” he said. “We grown. My body knows you fine. Don’t make it more than it is.” It already was more than it was supposed to be. Hasheem was hard for me. That was not in the best friend handbook.
“Hasheem…” I muttered.
“It’s no big deal.” He gave a little shrug, still swaying like nothing had changed. My nipples tightened against the thin fabric of my dress, and I prayed the lights were low enough that he couldn’t clock it. When he glanced down at me and licked his lips, I damn near lost it.
“I . . . I gotta pee,” I blurted, and then I slipped out of his hold and off the floor before he could say anything.
I weaved through bodies on my way to the bathroom, like I was trying to catch a flight.
My heart was beating so fast that as soon as I made it to the bathroom, I had to immediately grip the edge of the sink.
“What the hell?” I stared at my flushed cheeks in the mirror and inhaled and exhaled.
Hasheem getting hard for me was not on my bucket list for this trip.
“Okay. Harlowe, he’s a man. You’re a woman.
Biology did what biology does. It’s no big deal.
He’s still your best friend.” I tried to reason with my anxiety not to freak out more than I already was.
I ran my hand down my face, being sure not to mess up my makeup.
I needed to get my head in the game. Standing upright, I fixed my two piece set and shook off whatever the hell was going on.
I pushed the bathroom door open, and my body collided with whomever was trying to enter.
“I’m sorry.” I looked up to see Simone.
“Harlowe,” she said.
“Simone.”
“You look nice.” Her gaze slid over me. “You can barely tell you’re a backstabbing bitch.”
My stomach dipped. Calling me a bitch was harsh, but I would let her have that one. “I . . . Simone,” I said, trying to find the words that would make me being here boo’d up with Hasheem hurt her even less. “It’s not . . . it’s . . .”
“I just find it funny how neither of y’all thought enough of me to shoot me a little heads up ‘we together now’ text.”
My mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out.
“I didn’t even know you worked for Duality,” I finally blurted. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”
She laughed, but there wasn’t any humor in it. “Yeah. Well, I was going to see y’all eventually. Y’all could have warned me.”
“I—” I swallowed. “It . . . happened fast.” I didn’t know what else she wanted me to say.
“How long?” she asked, eyes locked on mine.
My brain scrambled for dates, counting backwards through holidays and releases and all the fake timelines I’d been feeding the internet.
“End of last year,” I said quietly. “Couple months.”
She stared at me like I’d grown another head. “Couple months?” she repeated. “Right. So after I gave him his ring back. Good to know y’all didn’t waste any time.”
“I would never do that to you, Simone. Fall out or not, you were one of my closest friends.” My words rushed out before I could stop them. “It wasn’t like that—”
“Oh, please.” She rolled her eyes. “Y’all stayed together, always too close. Those stupid ass inside jokes. You really want me to believe nothing was brewing while I was picking out my damn wedding dress?”
“That’s not fair,” I whispered. “You knew what our friendship was before you ever went out on a date with him. You thought it was cute until you thought you could boot me out of his life.”
“Whatever. Congrats. You got what you always swore you didn’t want.”
“That’s not—” I started, but she cut me off with a small shake of her head.
“And for the record?” she added. “You not here by accident. I put your name on that shortlist. Sat in that meeting and said, ‘I know this girl. Her page would eat for this.’ Thought it would be cute. Maybe extend an olive branch. Thought maybe we could reconnect.” Her eyes swept over me, then down the patio. “Guess the jokes on me.”
Guilt burned hot in my chest. I wanted to tell her this was all fake, but I couldn’t. For one, she probably wouldn’t believe me anyway, and if she did, she’d probably have us thrown off this trip so damn fast.
“Simone, I . . . I’m sorry,” I said, the words barely making it out. “I didn’t know you were gonna be here. I didn’t plan any of this to hurt you.” I tried to walk away, but her fingers snapped around my forearm, not hard enough to hurt, just enough to pin me there.
“Just answer me this. When you was telling me ‘that’s my brother, we just friends,’ was his dick already down your throat?”
“I’m not . . .” I shook my head. “I’m not dignifying that with an answer. I’m sorry you had to find out like this.”
“Sorry? You’re sorry alright. A sorry ass friend and human being.”
Before I could respond, a warm hand slid across my back.
“Let her go,” Hasheem said. He didn’t raise his voice, but it sliced clean through the air. Simone’s hand dropped from my arm like she’d been caught. He stepped in close enough that his chest brushed my shoulder, and his palm found the small of my back.
“You good?” he asked me first, eyes on my face.
I nodded, even though my heart was damn near beating out of my chest. “Yeah. I’m . . . fine.”
His gaze flicked toward Simone.
“Whatever y’all gotta talk about, that’s between y’all. But you not grabbing her up in no hallway while I’m here. That’s dead,” he said calmly.
“Nobody grabbed her,” Simone muttered, but she wasn’t looking at him anymore. “She lucky I’m not dragging her across Zanzibar.”
“And risk your job and an ass whupping?” he questioned. “I don’t think you’re that crazy.” He didn’t wait for her to answer, just turned back to me. “You ready to slide?” he asked, and every muscle in my body exhaled at once.
“I got enough content for tonight. My followers do not need to see me cry in 4K.”
“Say less. Grab your phone. I’ma tell Tiana and Malik we tapping out .
. . jet lag and all that.” A smile tugged at his mouth.
He laced our fingers together like it was the most natural thing in the world and started walking us back toward the ballroom doors.
I could feel Simone’s eyes on the back of my neck the whole way. I didn’t look back.
Leaving the mixer early should’ve felt like relief, but heading toward our room with his hand wrapped around mine and the ghost of his body still pressed against me from that slow dance? All it felt like was stepping deeper into something I had no business wanting.