Chapter 9
Cyren didn’t remember falling asleep.
One minute, she was stepping out of the tub, wrapping herself in a towel, with every intention of putting on clothes and maybe watching something to pass the time.
Now, she was opening and adjusting her eyes to the dim room.
The soft glow from her mounted TV lit the walls just enough to remind her where she was.
Her body felt heavy in that way naps make you feel; rested, but not enough to feel fully awake. She shifted slightly, blinking a few times as she reached for her phone on the nightstand.
There were a few missed calls and text messages.
Her Uncle Tony had sent her a long message, again expressing how proud he was of her.
Her cousin Whitnee also texted her. Gabi and Bre both reached out, asking what she had planned for the night.
And the person she vividly recalled dreaming about had called twice.
Heavy must have known he was in her dreams.
Cyren stared at the screen for a second, stretching and popping her muscles.
She truly hadn’t meant to sleep that long, but clearly, she needed it.
Slowly sitting up, she rubbed her eyes before replying to everyone in order.
She didn’t know why Bre, and especially Gabi, were asking whether she had plans.
Her weekends had been spent in the house for as long as she could remember.
They knew that, but considering the way she’d been outside the last few weekends, they thought things might have changed.
She sent them both a quick text, telling them she’d been knocked out and that they knew she didn’t have any plans.
Going to her call log, her thumb hovered over Heavy’s name before she tapped it.
The phone rang once, then twice, and by the third ring, Cyren pressed her lips together, ready to hang up.
It rang long enough for her to feel like she was doing too much and that Heavy just wasn’t answering her call.
Just as she was about to press the end button, he picked up.
“What’s up, sweetheart?”
Cyren absolutely hated how her body felt like it was melting at the sound of his voice. Wherever he was, his voice had only drowned out the loud noise for a split second.
“Hey. I was just calling you back,” she informed.
“How was your nap?”
She didn’t have to tell him she’d been sleeping. Heavy heard it all in her voice and knew once she hadn’t answered his call the second time that she was knocked out. Cyren loved an observant man. At least where it mattered.
Smiling, she cleared her throat. “It was—”
“Un. Yeah, nigga! Run me my paper,” Heavy asserted, catching Cyren off guard.
Her words halted at his outburst. She distinctly heard the laughter and shit-talking in the background, and the sound of money being counted.
“Hello? You can call me back,” she suggested.
“My fault, baby. What you say?”
“You can call me back,” she repeated with more bite in her tone than she intended. Someone calling or answering the phone for her, then talking to the people in their background, annoyed her to no end. He could’ve called her back when he wasn’t busy.
“Nah, I’m good,” Heavy replied, so casually. “What you over there doing?”
“Nothing,” she said, plainly. “I was just calling you back.”
“A’ight. Pull up on me right quick.”
Cyren blinked, thrown off again for half a second.
“Where are you at?” she asked, even though she already knew that telling her wouldn’t mean much.
“At this lil’ spot in the city with my people nem’,” he said.
He wants me around his people? Cyren’s thoughts raced.
She was fine with them being in the same space for Dre and Nicole’s birthday, and even okay with him bringing her food and talking on the phone.
Pulling up on him and his homeboys or whoever wasn’t a stage Cyren had comfortably reached with him yet.
“Oh. Maybe another time. Just call me later.”
“Nah. For what? What you trying to get off the phone for?” Heavy asked, confused by her refusal to talk to him.
She made sure to sigh loudly enough for him to hear. “Because you’re enjoying your night, and I’m not trying to listen to all that.”
“I’m almost finished, just sit—”
“No, Rashaun. Call me back.”
“Cyr—”
Heavy couldn’t fully get her name off his lips before she ended the call.
She wasn’t about to sit on the phone and just listen while he gave her half or none of his attention.
Cyren didn’t even feel bad. She was more annoyed than anything.
Not with him exactly, but the situation.
The timing and her emotions weren’t on one accord at all.
Dropping her phone onto the bed, Cyren pulled herself out from beneath the covers to head to the bathroom. The oversized shirt she wore reached mid-thigh, exposing her bare legs. After relieving herself, she washed her hands, brushed her teeth, then put on some leggings and, unfortunately, a bra.
She wasn’t sure if Nia or Skylar were home and had company, so she wanted to be both presentable and respectful. That was the downside of not having her own place. Cyren wanted to walk around freely, and sometimes, even naked as the day she was born if she felt like it.
Walking out of her bedroom, she started for the kitchen, thinking about grabbing something quick to eat and what show she was about to watch. She was about to pass Skylar’s room but slowed her steps. Surprisingly enough, she was home, and Cyren wondered what she was doing.
Knocking, she waited until Skylar came to the door. It didn’t take long for her to open it, letting the sounds of a song Cyren had never heard, spill out into the hallway. The mixed scent of soft perfume and flat-iron fumes greeted her, making her nose wrinkle.
“Yes?” Skylar asked, standing there half-dressed. Her perfectly arched brow slightly raised, as if Cyren had no right to interrupt her.
Her greeting wasn’t outright rude, but it wasn’t exactly warm either. Cyren decided not to match her energy.
“Okay,” Cyren praised, smiling. “You look cute.”
Smirking, Skylar pivoted and walked back to her vanity. “Thanks. You know I don’t step out looking any kind of way.”
Cyren took that as her cue to enter her room.
The first thing she noticed was the chaos.
It wasn’t dirty, but clothes were scattered in small piles across the bed and floor, while shoes lined the bed, and hangers were thrown haphazardly in various places.
It was the telltale sign of a woman’s room in disarray while she prepared to go out and claimed she had nothing to wear.
Yet, half her closet was staring back at her.
“How many outfits have you tried on?” Cyren asked.
Skylar rolled her eyes, but a small laugh slipped out. “Too many. And I still feel like I might change. I don’t have enough clothes.”
Cyren glanced around again. “It looks like you have plenty to me,” she mumbled.
Skylar didn’t respond to that, just focused on applying her eyeliner like the conversation wasn’t worth too much attention.
“The club be cracking like that every weekend?” Cyren wondered.
“For the most part. The ones I accept invitations to, do.”
Nodding, Cyren wondered what that life was like. Club hopping every weekend had to be fun, but a burnout as well. “That’s what’s up. Sounds like a good time.”
“I’d invite you out, but I don’t think you and my friends would mesh.” Skylar glanced at her through the mirror to gauge her reaction.
Cyren didn’t have one. She let out a chuckle. “Of course we wouldn’t.”
Skylar’s hand paused mid-motion. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“If they act anything like you, I know for a fact I wouldn’t want to be around them.”
Skylar spun around in her upholstered swivel chair to face her. The short, red mini dress almost revealed too much as she swiftly turned. Cyren might have noticed the hurt flicker in her eyes, but it disappeared just as fast as it appeared.
“I don’t act like anything, so I’m not sure what you’re getting at,” Skylar snapped.
“It means that you’ve been acting weird with me since I moved here. I don’t understand what the issue is.”
Cyren was tired of holding her tongue, pretending that the way Skylar treated her was okay.
“Girl”— Skylar laughed, turning back around as if she were now too good to hold a conversation with her and make eye contact— “I don’t have an issue with you.”
“You do, but I’m not trying to convince you. I’m just trying to figure out what it is. I’ve never done anything to you, and I hate that it feels like I did. We’re cousins. First cousins at that. We used to be close, and now it’s like I don’t even know you.”
Her words were honest but not harsh. She wasn’t trying to turn this into an argument. Skylar’s guard slipped for a split second, but it was right back up.
“People grow up,” she said, shrugging. “Things change.”
Cyren studied her reflection. Something in her chest tightened at how easy she made that sound. As if she was just supposed to go with the flow of life with no concern or questions.
“I guess,” she murmured. “I just didn’t think we’d be one of those things.”
Skylar picked up her gloss, ready to end the conversation. “Well, we are.”
What Cyren wanted to do was really tell her what the issue was, but that wasn’t her place. She’d said enough, and sometimes, people needed to reflect within themselves first. Cyren wasn’t prepared to go down that road with her, and Skylar wasn’t prepared to face her own truths.
There hadn’t always been hostility between them, and Skylar couldn’t quite pinpoint when or where it started.
They were close as teenagers, but somewhere between Cyren excelling in school and sports, and the family constantly gloating about her, rubbed Skylar the wrong way.
It didn’t help that their family and even their friends compared them.