3. Egypt
EGYPT
“ Y ou off today,” Averi said, not even looking up from her laptop.
I rolled my eyes and leaned deeper into the couch; legs tucked under me as I scrolled my phone for the third time in the last two minutes. “I’m fine.”
“Mm.” She didn’t believe me. Of course she didn’t.
She knew me too well. Knew the difference between my focused and locked in mood and whatever the hell this was.
I’d opened the same voice memo three times and hadn’t played it once.
The beat was fire, the lyrics were there.
.. but my head was a million miles away.
To be specific? My head was about twenty-five minutes away in Beverly Grove with Nasseem.
He had texted me earlier:
Nasseem: Same time. New spot. Come to me tonight.
Attached was the pin to his condo, his home. That wasn’t part of the agreement. We didn’t do homes. We didn’t do overnight bags. We didn’t do anything that felt like more than skin-on-skin and mutual release. And yet… here I was, wondering if I should break my own rules.
Nasseem: I’ll cook. Bring a bag. You not leavin’ right after this time.
I stared at the text like it was written in another language.
He had never invited me to his place before.
Not once in the months we’d been sneakin’ around.
It was always Pleasure. Always Room 34. Private, detached and safe.
But his home? That was personal. That was real.
That was him trying to blur the lines. I wouldn’t bring a bag.
Hell no. I’d pull up, maybe, but I wasn’t spending the night… Couldn’t.
“Egypt.” I blinked and looked up. Averi had turned her body toward me, legs crossed, arms resting on her lap. She looked concerned. “You good, for real?”
I nodded quickly. “Yeah. Just tired.”
“Nah. Tired don’t look like that. You movin’ like your mind’s in ten different places. You barely touched the track I sent. Ain’t laid a hook, ain’t hummed a melody. What’s goin’ on?”
“Nothing,” I said, a little too fast.
Averi’s brow lifted. “Don’t start lyin’ to me. If something is wrong, talk to me. If it’s a man, blink twice.”
I scoffed, grabbing a bottle of water from the table. “It ain’t a man.”
She tilted her head. “So, what is it?”
I hesitated. My phone buzzed again. Nasseem. I didn’t look at it. “It’s just… stress,” I mumbled.
Averi leaned forward. “Egypt. Don’t bullshit me.”
I snapped. “Damn, Ave! I said I’m good. Mind your fuckin’ business.”
The silence in the room got heavy. Like air sucked all the way out. Averi sat back slowly, blinking at me like I’d slapped her. “Oh, wow.” I instantly regretted it. She stood up, unplugged her hard drive, and started packing up her laptop.
“Where you goin’?” I asked, sitting up.
She didn’t look at me.
“Home. I got a husband I could be spending time with instead of sittin’ in a studio with somebody who wanna act like I’m the enemy.”
“Ave, come on?—”
“Nah,” she cut me off, finally facing me. “You figure your shit out. Cause this?” She gestured between us. “You wasting my time with distractions. I came to work. Not get snapped on cause I give a fuck about you.”
I stood, walking around the couch. “I didn’t mean to?—”
She rolled her eyes and grabbed her bag.
“Kiss my ass, Egypt.”
And with that, she walked out. The door shut harder than necessary, echoing through the room.
I stood there, tight with guilt, then I looked down at my phone. The lock screen glowed with a preview:
Nasseem: I got wine, candles, food and a playlist wit’ yo name on it. Stop playin’. Just pull up.
I sighed, thumbs hovering.
Me: I’m busy, can’t.
I put my phone on Do Not Disturb and started shutting down the studio.
My hands moved on autopilot. I hated that I got snippy with Averi when she was just trying to check on me.
Hated that she walked out mad. Hated that I wasn’t brave enough to tell her the real reason I was so out of pocket.
I was tangled up in a situationship with the one man I swore I’d never let get close.
And it was starting to fuck everything up.
I sat in the makeup chair, letting the stylist touch up my edges and swipe blush across my cheeks. I kept sneaking glances at Averi in the chair beside me, but she wasn’t looking at me. She hadn’t said a word since she walked in.
No hey, …No pass the gloss …Nothing. She was cold. Her phone lit up every few minutes with Royal’s name and heart emojis. She laughed once. Loud and petty.
Serenity walked in mid-glam, always on time with a green juice in one hand and her script in the other. She scanned the room, then gave us both a look. “Y’all beefin’ or something?”
I sighed. “Not really.”
“Then why the energy feel off? Usually, when I walked in here, ya’ll don’t stop talking. Both of ya’ll be loud as hell even at 6AM.”
Averi didn’t say a thing. Just applied her lip liner and gave me a look.
Serenity sat on the edge of the counter. “This our last few days together on this set. This the shit y’all wanna remember?”
I bit my lip. She was right. “Ave…” I turned toward her, softer this time. “I’m sorry. I was trippin’. You didn’t deserve that.”
Averi blinked at me, then sighed, finally relenting. “I accept your apology,” she said. “But fix your fucking attitude before I drag you.”
I laughed, relieved. Serenity grinned. “See how easy that was?”
Averi added, “And while you at it? Go get some dick and calm the hell down.”
Serenity spit out her juice, choking on a laugh. I laughed too, even though the truth was, getting dicked down was the whole reason for the attitude in the first place.
Eight of us sat around the long table. Laughter bouncing off exposed brick. Candlelight casting glows across champagne flutes. Creed and Serenity. Royal and Averi. Arielle and Brodie. Me and Nasseem… I mean, technically.
To everyone else, we were the same old Egypt and Nas, bickering, throwing jabs, side-eying each other from across the table like we didn’t have history dripping off our skin.
Our friends were so used to the way we went back and forth, they didn’t even blink when I rolled my eyes at him or when he let out that low chuckle that always got under my damn skin.
But under the table? The heat between us was like a slow burn; intense, quiet, undeniable.
Every shift in his seat made me more aware of him.
Every time he leaned back and licked his lips like he wasn’t even trying to be fine, my breath caught for just a second.
I’d glance down and catch his fingers drumming lightly against his thigh, the same thigh I knew was solid muscle, the same one I’d pressed into not too long ago; skin to skin.
He knew exactly what he was doing. And I knew exactly what I wanted. I wanted to touch him under the table, trace my fingertips over the back of his hand, lace our fingers together. I wanted to lean over and kiss him without caring who saw. But instead…
“Wow,” I said, eyeing his empty glass. “So, you just gon’ order the last pour of the Louis XIII and not offer nobody else a taste?”
He raised his glass and swirled what was left with a lazy grin. “Ain’t no law against being faster than you.”
“Just annoying,” I muttered, leaning forward slightly, just enough for our eyes to meet across the candlelit table. “And where the fuck you get that shirt? Looks like it came from the clearance bin at Marshalls.”
He didn’t flinch. Just grinned wider. “Funny. Still managed to get your attention though.”
“You wish,” I scoffed.
“I know,” he said, eyes darkening just slightly. “You ain't gotta say it.”
I huffed and looked away, but I could feel his gaze on me—burning slow, like he could see right through me. My skin tingled with awareness, and I hated how easy he made it look. How effortlessly he slipped into that space between annoyance and attraction, knowing I’d follow.
“I’d rather drink dirty bath water than admit I ever checked for you,” I shot back, biting back a smile.
“You check for me every time I walk in a room, E.” His voice dipped lower, smoother, like velvet and danger rolled into one. “Every time you wear that lip gloss, or laugh like that little ass joke was funny... You be askin’ for it.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Please. Don’t flatter yourself.”
“I don’t have to,” he said with a shrug. “You do it for me.”
He smirked and leaned back in his chair like he’d just won something. And maybe he had. Because beneath the table, my heel had already drifted a little too close to his foot. Because I couldn’t stop myself from glancing at his hands—or remembering what they felt like, steady and sure on my body.
To everyone else, it was just another night of our usual back and forth.
Another round of Egypt and Nas taking playful shots at each other like always.
But to us? It was foreplay. It was a secret dance with no music—just heat, glances, and tension that was one step away from igniting.
And the worst part was I loved every second of it.
Creed looked at me funny across the table. Just for a second. Like he saw something. Like he knew…Nah. He couldn’t. Could he?
Later that night after I got back from dinner, I paced my living room floor, then picked up my phone. He answered after two rings.
“What’s up?” Nasseem said, voice low.
“Did you tell Creed?” I asked, straight to it.
He paused. “Yeah.”
My stomach dropped. “Nasseem. We agreed?—”
“I know what we said.”
“You told him?” I repeated, my voice rising. “You do realize that man got a whole wife, right? You don’t think they pillow talk? You don’t think Serenity gon’ put two and two together and tell Averi?”
He exhaled hard. “I had to tell somebody, Egypt. I ain’t been able to breathe carryin’ this shit by myself.”
“We said this was between us!”