8. Nasseem
NASSEEM
S omehow, being at her place felt different than her being at mine.
Don’t get me wrong—she looked good in my space.
Barefoot in my T-shirt, leaning on the counter like she belonged there.
Like I could come home from a workout, find her lighting candles and bossing me around, and wouldn’t even blink twice. That shit? That felt right.
But being in her space, that was something else.
The minute she opened the door, that soft-ass scent she wore hit me square in the chest. Lavender and clean linen or whatever the fuck that magic was.
Candles lit, food simmerin’, music low. She was doing it like it wasn’t nothin’—like having me there was normal now.
And maybe it was, or maybe that’s just what I wanted it to be.
She handed me a plate and kicked off her slides, moving through her house like a woman who was finally comfortable lettin’ me in. Literally and figuratively.
We ate on her couch, knees touchin’, shoulders brushin’ like gravity couldn’t help itself.
And even though the food was damn near perfect, all I could focus on was the way her mouth moved when she talked, the way her eyes sparkled when she laughed.
I was in deep. Way deeper than I ever planned to be. And honestly, it was scary as hell.
After she fell asleep on my chest, curled up like she knew I’d keep her safe, I didn’t move. Not for a while. I just laid there, starin’ at the ceiling, listenin’ to the rhythm of her breath. My mind drifted to how we even got here.
From New York to now? Yeah… it had been a wild ride. The night was already one for the books.
Creed had just gotten drafted, top ten pick.
We’d hit the city hard—press, interviews, green room obligations—and by the time we made it back to Serenity and Ari’s penthouse, everybody was buzzin’.
Champagne poppin’, music low but hittin’, plates piled with jerk chicken sliders, mac and cheese bites, and fruit trays that nobody touched.
The penthouse was beautiful—floor-to-ceiling windows showin’ off Manhattan’s skyline like it was for sale.
White leather sectionals, marble counters.
Lit candles everywhere it was bougie but still real.
I was surprised when Creed told me he’d moved in, knew then how serious shit between him and Serenity was, knew then that my brother was in love like no other time before.
Gianna, his ex-girlfriend/baby mama had no chance when it came to Serenity, and it was probably a good thing considering the fact that I caught her sneaking out of Nate’s room a time or two.
Creed was on the balcony talkin’ to his agent on the phone.
I was leanin’ against the kitchen island, sippin’ cognac, when I noticed her.
I didn’t know her name at the time. Didn’t even realize I was starin’ until she tilted her head, one eyebrow raised, lips painted a deep berry shade that made her mouth look like trouble.
She was wearin’ these cut-off shorts with a black bodysuit and gold hoops big enough to pick up radio signals. Hair in a curly high puff. Confidence for days. She wasn’t lookin’ around the room for attention, but she had it anyway.
She laughed at somethin’ her friend, someone she’d walked in with, said beside her, and I swear to God, it echoed louder than the music.
When Creed came back in and walked towards me in the kitchen, I turned to him. “Yo. Who that?”
He followed my line of sight, then smirked. “Egypt. One of Serenity’s friends from NYU. She smart as hell, mouth slick as hell too. She’s funny though. Cool people.”
I nodded. “She single?”
Creed laughed. “Hell, I don’t know. Ask her.”
I took another sip of my drink, then walked over without thinkin’ too hard about it. She caught me before I even opened my mouth.
“Is there a reason you been starin’ at me from across the room like I stole your wallet?” she asked, arms folded, hip cocked.
I blinked. “Damn. You comin’ in hot, huh?”
“You look like the type who needs to be kept in check early.”
I smiled. “And you look like the type who gets bored when somebody agrees with you.”
“Only if they ugly. You’re… borderline.”
I laughed. “That’s the best you got?”
“For now. You new or somethin’? I ain’t seen you around.”
“I’m from Texas, actually. I’m Creed’s best friend.”
“Ahhh,” she nodded slowly. “That explains the beard and the aggression.”
I leaned in, grinnin’. “Aggression?”
“You walk like you ready to fight somebody’s ex.”
“And you talk like you collect restraining orders.”
She gasped, hand to her chest, fake offended. “You got jokes.”
“Only for worthy opponents.”
“Is that what I am?”
“Shit, you tell me.”
She didn’t smile. Not at first. But her eyes sparkled just enough to let me know I’d hit a nerve—in a good way. Her friend watched us from the couch like she was watchin’ a live episode of somethin’ messy. Arielle nudged Serenity and whispered somethin’ under her breath.
Egypt finally broke eye contact, reachin’ for a drink. “I don’t like ball players.”
I smirked. “I don’t play ball.”
“What do you do then?”
“I fight.”
She blinked. “Like… with gloves?”
“Yup.”
She looked me over like she was doin’ inventory. “Hmph. That tracks.”
“What does?”
“You give off very ‘punch first, apologize never’ energy.”
“And you give off ‘cut a man’s tires and dare him to call the cops’ energy.”
“I plead the fifth,” she said, takin’ a sip of her drink.
We were both smilin’ now. But we didn’t say anything else, just locked eyes for a second too long, both pretendin’ it didn’t mean anything. That was the start. That was the moment. We spent the rest of the night avoidin’ each other—but our eyes kept findin’ their way back across the room.
Now I was layin’ in her bed, starin’ at the ceiling like none of this made sense…
but all of it felt inevitable. From the moment she opened her mouth and called me out in front of everybody, I’d been hooked.
I ain’t know how to say it back then. Hell, I barely knew how to say it now.
But I loved her. And I was starting to think… maybe I always had.
I gently shifted from under her, careful not to wake her, and leaned over to pull a blanket across her waist. She didn’t stir.
I sat back, elbows on my knees, just lookin’ at her.
How the hell did we go from two people who couldn’t be in the same room without throwing shade…
to this? To me wanting to stay. To her letting me.
I still hadn’t said it out loud. Not to her.
But in my head, it was already real. I was in love with Egypt Armstrong.
And even though she hadn’t said it either…
I could feel it in the way she looked at me when she thought I wasn’t watchin’.
In the way she clung to me like I was the only thing keepin’ her grounded and in the way she hadn’t made me leave.
I was gon’ give her time and space. Whatever she needed.
But one way or another, this thing between us, it wasn’t goin’ nowhere.
Brodie and Arielle’s house always felt like a fuckin’ resort.
Marble floors, tall-ass ceilings, ambient lighting, and a wine fridge bigger than my first apartment.
No kids tonight, just the grown-ups. That meant open bar, loud-ass opinions, and at least three shady side conversations floatin’ around the room.
We were all gathered around their long-ass wood table—Brodie and Arielle sittin’ at each end like Black royalty, Serenity beside Creed, Averi across from Royal, and Egypt… directly across from me. Of course.
She looked smug and spicy, sittin’ with her chin in her hand, legs crossed, lip gloss poppin’ like she wasn’t the same woman I had pressed up against her own damn kitchen counter three nights ago.
Every time she laughed at somethin’ Royal said or reached across the table to clink glasses with Averi, I felt my molars grindin’.
I tried to focus on my plate—grilled chicken, roasted carrots, some kinda mashed sweet potato magic Ari had whipped up—but my eyes kept draggin’ back to her. Like they had a fuckin’ mind of their own. Then, right on cue…
“So, Egypt…” Serenity started, eyes all soft and curious like she wasn’t ‘bout to stir the pot, “How was your date the other night? You left us hangin’.”
Averi didn’t miss a beat. “She said it was terrible.”
The whole table turned to her. Egypt blinked, sat back with her wine glass like she’d been ambushed. “Oh my God,” she muttered. “Can y’all not?” I smirked, leanin’ back in my chair, ready for the show.
“Well now I need details,” Arielle said, grinning. “We need to know what type of man gets a second date with you—and apparently, who doesn’t.”
Egypt rolled her eyes. “He was boring. All he talked about was stocks, steak, and his ex-girlfriend’s gluten allergy. Like, sir… read the room. I ordered pasta and I don’t care about your trauma.” The table cracked up. Even Brodie, usually quiet with his plate, was chuckling.
I lifted my glass, eyes on her. “Maybe he thought your personality was the real allergy.”
Egypt’s head turned slow, like a damn villain in a movie. “And maybe your hairline's been in a custody battle with your edges since high school.”
“Speakin’ of edges, yours been lookin real stressed lately. Don’t you ever comb your fuckin’ hair?”
“Do you ever wear anything besides fuck boi clothes? You look like you been hustling on the corner for months and still can’t make yo drug quota.” she shot back without hesitation.
“Oop!” Serenity laughed into her drink. “Here we go.”
Royal damn near spit out his cognac.
“Nah, cause why you always comin’ for me?” I asked, smirkin’. “I was born fine. You? You been dependin’ on that Fenty filter since ‘18.”
“First of all,” she said, holding up a finger, “this face is blessed and highly favored. Second, you been wearin’ the same chain since I met you.”
“And yet, you keep starin’ at it.”