EZRA
S h e w a s l y i n g across my chest, one leg tossed over mine, her fingers tracing the ink on my stomach. I didn’t want to move or shift the weight of her or the weight of the moment. Everything felt right again. After days of space and weird energy, her body was finally back on me, her breath slowing against my neck. I could feel peace curling around my ribs like smoke.
My right hand was tangled in her locs, the scent of her oil—lavender and coconut—still clinging to my skin from when she’d ridden me like she was claiming something. And maybe she was. Because when Yavanni looked down at me now, smile lazy and eyes soft, I saw something deeper than lust. Something that scared the hell out of me but I still wanted it.
“Stop staring at me like that,” she murmured, voice thick with sleep and sex.
“Like what?”
“Like you're already writing about this moment.”
I smirked. “I am.”
She groaned and buried her face in my neck. “You're probably gonna make me cry from your next poem.”
“You wanna hear the one I spit the other night?”
She slapped my chest lightly. “You know I do. Don’t play with me.” And I did. Spit that shit from the heart and then she was quiet for a beat. Then, she kissed the center of my chest and propped herself up on one elbow. “So… New York, huh?” she asked, voice soft.
I nodded, my hand sliding down her back. “The scout, Nina, been hittin’ me up. She wants to set up a lil’ meetin’ or whatever wit' a couple publishers. Some showcase producers too.”
“That’s… amazing,” she said, but her voice dipped just slightly.
“I ain’t never thought past East Hollis,” I admitted. “I like performin’ here. I know this city.”
“But?” she asked, eyes studying mine.
“But somethin’ 'bout what she said… makes me feel like maybe I could stretch. Do a lil' more.” I looked at her then, really looked at the woman who pulled me out of hiding with just a smile and a pair of bamboos. “I just don’t know what that means for us,” I said, my voice lower now. “For this.”
She looked down, then slid her hand over my heart. “I’ve been thinking about that too,” she said. “My world is getting heavier. Graduation’s around the corner. My exam. My parents are expecting me to apply to every fancy hospital in a thirty-mile radius.”
“You want that?”
She hesitated. “Some days, yeah. But other days? I just want peace. I want mornings like the ones we have and nights like tonight. I want something that doesn’t require a performance.”
My chest got tight again. “What if we both chasin’ dreams that take us in different directions?” I asked. “What if timin’ don’t line up, Yaya?”
She looked up at me, eyes glinting in the low light. “Then we make it line up or we hold each other down while we figure it out.”
I swallowed, throat dry. “You really see me doin’ this shit big, huh?”
She nodded. “You were never meant to be small. Not with the way you write. The way you feel.”
And just like that, something cracked open in me again. “Whatever happens,” I said, pulling her closer, “I don’t wanna lose this.”
“You won’t,” she whispered. “But we gotta promise to talk through it. No disappearing. No shutting down.”
“Aight,” I said, kissing her forehead. “And if I end up in Brooklyn readin’ poems to rooms full of white women who don’t know what the hell I’m talkin’ 'bout, you better be in the front row.”
“Oh, I will be,” she smirked. “With a sign that says, ‘His poems sound better when I’m naked.’”
I burst out laughing, rolling her onto her back and kissing her hard. That light feeling came back for a moment. But underneath it? That truth. We were two people trying to build something real in a world that demanded we stretch in two different directions.
“There’s a block party in my neck of the woods tomorrow night.”
She lifted a brow, amused. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. Every summer, one of my OG's throw one at the end of the summer. Same block, same energy. Grillin’, spades tables, somebody drunk off brown liquor way too early… whole scene.”
She smiled, that slow, dimpled one that crawled under my skin. “You're trying to bring me to your roots?” she teased.
I reached over, brushing a loc behind her ear. “Somethin’ like that. I wanna show you off.”
Her smile softened. “I’d love that,” she said, voice tender.
“You sure?” I asked, even though I was already picturing her in the middle of it with the sunlight on her skin, her laugh cutting through the smoke and old-school music. “It’s not gon’ be glitz and glam. It’s real out there. Loud as fuck and messy. But it’s all love.”
She leaned in, kissed me slowly, then whispered, “Sounds like my kinda party.”
The next evening, the block was alive by the time my Uber pulled up. Smoke from two grills floated into the sky like incense. Somebody’s uncle had the whole side of a car cracked open, blasting Candy by Cameo like it just dropped. Card tables were set up at both ends of the street with one for spades and the other one for dominoes. Of course, there was already tension rising at both. Weed smoke in the air.
Kids ran barefoot between folding chairs, squirt guns in hand, their screams layered over the deep laughter of aunties passing aluminum pans of ribs and beans from porch to porch. Two dudes argued over dice money near the curb. Somebody else passed around a bottle wrapped in a brown paper bag. It had been a minute since I came through but I couldn’t miss the block party.
I dapped up folks all the way down the block. Every few steps, somebody pulled me in for a hug, a handshake, or a “Damn, that you Ezra?”
My OG Big Ron was behind the grill in an apron that said “King of the Flame.” Smoke rolled up from the pit like a holy spirit. He looked up and grinned. “Look at this nigga!” he barked, pulling me in for a half-hug. “Mr. Poetic done blessed us with his presence. Bet ya ass still can’t whoop me in spades though.”
“Nigga, don’t start,” I laughed, already catching the rhythm of the night. “Where the Henny at?”
He pointed to a cooler. “Cold beers on the left. Liquor on the right, young blood.”
I grabbed a red cup and poured up some Hennessy before wandering through the crowd. Dap after dap, the same sidewalk I used to write poems on was now lined with fold-up chairs and love. Then the energy shifted. I felt her before I saw her. Heads turned as Yavanni stepped out of a car looking every bit of the black goddess she was.
She had on this flowy, burnt orange two-piece set, a tank top, and a skirt that floated around her thighs. Her locs were styled in a bun with two hanging down with golden cuffs on them, catching the late sun. Bamboo hoops, gold anklet, and brown sandals that showed off her white-painted toes. Her waist beads peeked every time the wind teased her top. Every nigga on that block noticed her but when her eyes found mine, she smiled like I was the only one there.
I moved toward her before I even realized I was walking. She met me halfway. “You look so good,” she teased, her eyes twinkling. I was basic as fuck dressed in some tan cargo shorts, a black tee, and some Jordans with my jewels on and a black fitted over my locs.
“And you look like I might have to beat somebody’s ass before the night’s over,” I murmured, taking her hand and spinning her slowly before pulling her in.
The people around us noticed, too. Somebody whistled. Somebody else said, “Oh he locked that down, already?”
“Yeahhhh, E!”
She laughed, leaning up to kiss my lips. “You weren’t lying. This a whole scene.”
“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”
I led her through the crowd and introduced her to aunties and cousins, homeboys and OGs. She complimented somebody’s potato salad, held a baby on her hip for a whole conversation, and laughed so loud playing Uno at a table with two little girls that my chest tightened watching her. She fit right in like she’d always belonged.
Later, we stood near the sidewalk, her sipping jungle juice out of a red cup, my arm around her waist, watching the dark sky. “You good?” I asked her.
She leaned into me, smiling and I could tell she was lit just like I was. “I’m more than good.”
We didn’t even make it out of the neighborhood before the sky cracked open and we took off running towards her car. Rain fell hard, fast and relentless. The streets shimmered under the glow of streetlights, and the last of the block party crowd rushed for porches and overhangs. We were soaked and just looked at each other, laughing. And then, her gaze dipped low to my lips as she bit hers.
Looking at me from the driver’s seat like she was hungry. Not for food. For me. She hadn’t even put the key in the ignition yet. We’d barely closed the doors before the air between us shifted. Her chest rose and fell quickly, her lips parted, locs damp from the mist in the air, and the dim light from the dash cast gold shadows on her skin.
I leaned over the console and place a hand on her thigh, my voice low and thick. “You gon’ drive… or you tryna start somethin’?”
She looked at me with fire in her eyes. “What if I already did?” Then her lips were on mine. She kissed me like we hadn’t touched in weeks and she’d waited all night for the moment we’d be alone. Her hand slid up the back of my neck, nails grazing my scalp just right, and a low growl escaped from my throat.
“Back seat,” she whispered against my mouth. “Now.”
I didn’t need to be told twice. We stumbled over the console, laughing in breathy moans, the sound of the storm outside like percussion to the chaos we were about to create. The windows fogged instantly, humidity from our skin mixing with the rain hammering the roof.
She straddled me, her skirt hitched up, waist beads clinking against my abs as she slid onto my lap. No hesitation. No mercy. My hands gripped her ass, kneading and guiding as she ground against me, slow at first, teasing. I hissed through my teeth, trying to keep it together.
“Yaya…”
“Shut up,” she breathed, kissing me again. “Let me feel you.” That jungle juice had her gone.
She reached between us, freeing me from my jeans, her fingers tight, warm, and skilled. Then, with a slow roll of her hips, she sank down onto me in one deep, smooth motion. We both moaned.
“Fuck,” I whispered, eyes rolling back as her walls clenched around me. “Damn, baby…”
The car rocked slightly with the rhythm of her movements. The rain beat the windows like applause. She gripped my shoulders and started riding me with intention. A slow grind, deep roll with her hips swirling like she was sculpting the moment into memory.
“Ezra,” she moaned, head falling back. “God…you feel so—”
I cut her off with a kiss, gripping her waist and guiding her harder, faster. “You feel like home, baby,” I muttered into her mouth. “Like I belong right here.”
She rode me deeper, skin slapping, her breath turning into soft cries, moans muffled into my neck. I watched her unravel with her face flushed, body trembling and every bounce of her hips a promise I wanted to live in.
“Say it,” I demanded, my voice low and gritty. “Tell me this pussy mine.”
She whimpered, rolling her hips faster. “Yours… all yours.”
“That’s right.” I gripped her tighter. “This body. Ya heart. Mine.”
Her orgasm snuck up on her, and mine hit me hard, crashing over us both. She cried out, body shaking, legs trembling as she clung to me, riding it out until she collapsed against my chest. I wrapped my arms around her, breath ragged, heart pounding. Outside, the rain kept falling. Inside, we just breathed. Connected. Still.
She lifted her head after a moment, forehead pressed to mine, eyes still soft, dazed. “Tonight was fun,” she whispered, voice hoarse but steady.
I kissed her slowly and deeply, letting it land. Letting it echo. “A fuckin’ vibe.”