Chapter 9 #4
Sevyn’s head snapped toward her so fast she nearly gave herself whiplash. “Bitch, what?!” she said, her tone laced with disbelief, though she couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up.
Harper shrugged, her smirk deepening. “I mean, why else is his ass on the way? For you?”
Sevyn’s lips parted, ready to argue, but she stopped herself. Her gaze softened, her voice following. “I guess… to talk.” Even saying it felt strange .
Harper scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Girl, please. That’s one thing that nigga don’t do.”
Sevyn sighed, shaking her head, but before she could respond, Harper stood and stretched dramatically.
“Welp, I’m going upstairs. There’s a guest room in the corner.
Y’all do what y’all gotta do, just don’t add to the population.
Let him take away instead.” She threw a sultry smirk over her shoulder.
Sevyn blinked, frowning. “What the fuck is he taking away? And we’re not doing shit.”
Harper’s laugh was low and taunting. “Girl, my cousin will kill that pussy. And the way these hoes be crazy behind that nigga? I believe it.”
Sevyn’s breath hitched, but she quickly waved Harper off, refusing to engage in her foolishness. “Goodnight, Harper. You delusional as hell.”
“Yeah… okay,” Harper said with a knowing smirk before disappearing upstairs.
Sevyn tidied up, her hands moving on autopilot as she tried to shake the nervous energy coursing through her.
She didn’t know why she felt this way—like she was sneaking around, like she was inviting someone over when she wasn’t supposed to.
But maybe that’s exactly what this was. Hassan showing up for her had her insides twisted with intrigue, anticipation, and something else she wasn’t ready to name.
This wasn’t her office. This wasn’t neutral ground. This was Harper’s home, and it felt too intimate. Too risky. Too exciting. Too dangerous.
A knock at the door made her roll her eyes, grateful for the momentary distraction. “Hood niggas don’t know shit about a doorbell,” she muttered under her breath as she made her way over.
When she pulled the door open, she was met with Hassan, dressed in an all-black Nike Tech, his usual unreadable expression in place.
But something about the way his beard was lined to perfection, the sharpness of his edge-up, the way his dark eyes lingered on her—it had her gripping the doorknob a little tighter.
She watched his gaze drop, his attention roaming over her like he had every right to take his time.
She followed his eyes, cursing herself when she realized exactly what she was wearing—tiny black silk shorts that clung to her curves, a white tank top she’d cut into a slit that dipped low, exposing just enough cleavage to tease. No bra. Fuck .
Hassan didn’t hide the way he took her in, starting from the messy bun atop her head, down to the soft fabric of her top, the curve of her thighs in those shorts, and finally landing on her fresh white-painted toes .
“Come in,” she said, her voice softer than she intended, catching the moment his eyes flicked back up to hers. She stepped aside, brushing off the heat crawling up her skin.
Hassan stepped in, scanning the space like he was assessing his surroundings, despite having been here countless times. His presence alone filled the room, heavy, commanding.
“Where Harper?” His deep voice broke the silence, his eyes finding hers again.
“Upstairs, probably sleep by now,” she said with a small smirk, shaking off the tension. “Midnight is like 3 a.m. to her.”
Hassan gave a slow nod, his lips twitching like he was slightly amused but too guarded to show it. He stood there, unmoving, unreadable. Watching her. Like he was waiting on her next move.
And damn it, she was waiting on his.
They moved further into the living room, Sevyn sinking into the couch first while Hassan remained standing. She didn’t pressure him to sit, just watched him, waiting. The way he stood, still as a shadow, unreadable as ever, made her shift slightly, tucking her feet beneath her.
“So what’s going on?” she asked, resting her head against her arm on the back of the couch, her eyes locked onto his.
His expression remained blank. “Who said something is up?”
She rolled her eyes at his usual lack of emotion. “Then why are you here, Hassan?”
No response. Just the slow, deliberate step he took toward her, his presence making the space between them shrink. Her breath caught— just for a second, but she knew he noticed.
“You smoke?” he asked, holding up a perfectly rolled blunt between his fingers, his tone as casual as if he were asking about the weather.
Sevyn didn’t answer. Instead, she stood, moving toward Harper’s backdoor, pushing it open without a word. She could feel his eyes on her, following every motion, studying every shift of her body.
She turned slightly, glancing over her shoulder. “Coming or no?” she asked, her voice sharp, not in the mood for games.
Hassan chuckled, a deep, low sound that sent something warm down her spine, and finally moved, stepping past her and into the night. Sevyn followed, shutting the door behind them as the cool air met her skin.
Harper’s backyard was big, open, the silence between them blending with the distant city hum. Sevyn sat at the patio table while Hassan remained standing. The breeze picked up, sending a chill across her skin, but she stayed still, refusing to react .
Hassan, however, noticed.
Without a word, he slipped off his Nike tech jacket, revealing the white muscle shirt beneath. The fabric stretched over his broad chest, the ink of his tattoos dark against his skin, each design more intricate than the last. Sevyn’s eyes traced over them, slowly, memorizing without meaning to.
He walked over, holding the jacket out.
“I’m good, thanks—” she started, shaking her head, but he cut her off.
“Sevyn, put the jacket on.” It wasn’t a suggestion.
Something about the way he said it—low, firm, final—made her comply without thinking. She pulled it over her shoulders, wrapping it around herself, her knees tucking up slightly as she settled in.
“Thanks,” she murmured.
Hassan didn’t respond, just gave a small nod before shifting his focus to the sky, to the moon hanging low over them. The glow cast sharp shadows across his face as he sparked the blunt, taking a slow pull, the ember burning bright in the darkness.
The silence stretched between them, comfortable but thick with unspoken thoughts.
Hassan smoked in steady drags, offering it to Sevyn once, but she shook her head.
It wasn’t that she didn’t smoke— she did, from time to time—but not tonight.
Not with him. Not when she knew what being high did to her.
It made her body heat in ways she didn’t need it to around him.
It loosened her tongue, and there were too many things she wanted to say but couldn't.
So she just sat there with him, watching as he stared at the moon like it held all the answers he refused to speak out loud.
“That shit saved me.”
His voice was low, like he was talking more to himself than her.
But she heard him.
Sevyn turned her attention fully to him, her curiosity piqued. “What saved you?” she asked, her voice soft, patient, coaxing.
Hassan took another hit before shaking his head slightly, as if debating whether to let the words free. But he let them go anyway.
“The moon.”
Sevyn frowned slightly, not in confusion but in thought. “What is it about the moon?”
He finally turned toward her then, their eyes locking under the dim light. It was the first time he’d looked at her since he started speaking, and his gaze was as intense as ever. But instead of answering, he scoffed.
“Mane, smoke this shit with me or something,” he muttered, shifting slightly, his frustration evident.
“It’s already hard enough doing this gushy-ass shit you got me doing.
Least you can do is smoke.” Sevyn laughed, and the sound was light, teasing, genuine.
She caught the way his brow furrowed, like he wasn’t used to people laughing at him—but she couldn’t help it.
“That’s the most words I’ve ever heard you say.”
Her laughter only grew, and for a moment, she swore she saw something shift in his expression. It wasn’t quite a smile, but it was damn close. And then, just like that, a low chuckle rumbled from his chest, and it caught her off guard.
It was deep, rich, and it sounded good.
“Take this shit, mane,” he grumbled, pushing the blunt toward her.
Sevyn hesitated for half a second before taking it, inhaling slowly, smoothly. She exhaled the smoke in a perfect stream, looking at him like she had something to prove—until the hit caught her by surprise, sending her into a fit of coughs.
Hassan shook his head, amused. “That ain’t that weak shit you used to smoking.”
Sevyn finally caught her breath, side-eyeing him through her lashes. “I don’t smoke weak shit. I just pulled too hard.”
She handed the blunt back, and Hassan took it effortlessly, inhaling deep before releasing a slow drag, the smoke rolling from his lips like silk. His eyes never left hers as he did, and she felt that stare everywhere.
She held it.
And in that moment, high or not, Sevyn knew there was something dangerous happening between them.
"Can you sit? You making me nervous," Sevyn muttered, her voice soft but firm. Hassan didn’t argue, just lowered himself onto the chair beside her, passing the blunt back. She took it, inhaling slower this time, letting the smoke curl from her lips in a lazy escape.
Hassan watched her, his gaze heavy, but he didn’t say anything. "What is it about the moon?" she asked again, circling back to the conversation he had yet to finish.