Chapter 4
“Ican’t believe you’re really leaving me,” Meadow groaned. “What am I supposed to do without you, huh? Who’s gonna tell me when my hair looks crazy?”
“You’re gonna do what you always do…talk too much, look too good, and act like you don’t need nobody,” Tia teased, sipping her cocktail like she hadn’t just roasted her best friend in front of the whole bar.
Meadow was in the city - no more traveling by golf carts, or slow traffic.
The city was live and Lounging Around was always too lit on a Sunday night.
After the week she had, she needed this.
That and one last hurray with her girl in the city they swore they would live in one day.
They were from Juniper Falls. A small Black town about thirty minutes from Saint Loris, the booming metro area that sat up high in altitude and even higher tax brackets.
Meadow clutched her chest. “That’s crazy disrespectful to say in my time of mourning.”
Tia snorted, “Bitch, please. You act like I died. I’m moving, not disappearing.”
“Same thing,” Meadow muttered, twirling her drink in her hand.
The two of them had been inseparable since middle school.
Through bad weaves, the worst exes, and every life detour in between.
A version of life without Tia in it full-time felt off balance.
Still, Meadow couldn’t help smiling. If anybody deserved to pack up and ride into a happy ending, it was Tia.
Her girl had kissed enough frogs to start her own pond.
Blain, Tia’s husband, leaned over the table. “You can come visit whenever, Meadow. I mean that.”
Her face melted into a grin. “Thank you, Blain. You really are the sweetest.”
Before she could finish the sentence, a warm hand slid up her thigh under the table. Her smile stayed put.
Tia caught it instantly, lifting her brows. “Oh, it’s like that?” she mouthed.
Meadow rolled her eyes, trying not to give away the way her pulse jumped.
Blain’s brother, Brent, had that kind of charm that made women overlook things they shouldn’t.
He wasn’t tall, but with Meadow barely reaching five feet, two inches, he towered over her enough.
His chain glinted under the outside patio lights, tattoos crawling up one side of his neck.
He smelled like lust wrapped in Dior Sauvage, and she’d been telling herself for weeks that was none of her business.
Still…he was fine, and fine men with street money always seemed to know just where to touch a woman.
“You can come with me when I make my way down there,” Brent said, fingers squeezing her thigh just enough to make her leg twitch.
Meadow smirked, scooting closer like the trouble was worth it. “Aren’t you the sweetest?”
“Or Meadow could just fly y’all there,” Tia chimed in, ever the hype woman.
“In the watering plane?” Brent’s brow lifted. “Nah, I’m tryna live, man.”
Meadow turned toward him, one perfectly arched brow raised. “The watering plane?” she repeated. “First of all, it’s a crop duster. Second of all, I’ll have you know she still runs smoother than that old school car that needs a jump every other day.”
Brent laughed, holding up his hands. “Aight, chill. I was just sayin’…”
“Uh-huh. You was just hating,” she interrupted. “Don’t be mad ’cause I got my pilot’s license and you got…community service hours.”
Tia spit her drink back into her cup, laughing so hard she nearly knocked it over. “Why you play so much?”
Meadow shrugged, sipping her drink. “I’m just saying, if you can’t fly, don’t talk about my plane.
“Noted,” Brent smirked, his gaze dropping to her mouth. “Guess I’ll let you be the captain then.”
She tilted her head, lips curving. “Good boy.”
Tia fanned herself dramatically. “I’m leaving before this turns into something rated R.”
“You been married three months and already acting brand new,” Meadow teased.
Tia kissed her cheek. “I gotta keep my halo polished.”
Meadow sighed, leaning back in her chair as the music switched to an old 2000s R&B track that always made her feel soft inside. Meadow watched her best friend and her husband laugh together, feeling that mix of pride and loneliness swirl in her chest.
Tia was moving on to the next chapter, and Meadow was still on the same page - working the range, looking after her mama, and pretending she didn’t want more than temporary flings and weekend fun.
“I really didn’t mean no harm, Meadow,” Brent leaned in to whisper over the thump of the music.
Meadow smiled. “I didn’t take it as harm, just drunk banter,” she shrugged.
Brent examined her side profile. Her wild curls were chaotic yet appeared perfect. Her chubby cheeks were defined enough but still so soft that it made her twenty-six-year-old self look no more than twenty, and her lips were painted in something nude making them look lick able.
But her thighs and breasts were what first caught his eye.
Meadow was stunning. Her beauty shined from the inside out and her aura was thick enough to pull you in without her having to do much. Still, make no mistakes in contrast to her feminine traits, Meadow’s mouth was wicked and her left jab was deadly.
Plainly put, Meadow was the total package but something about her made men scared to pursue anything more than dates and possible hook ups.
“Staring at me is wild,” Meadow tittered.
Brent licked his lips. “It’s hard not to do.”
Adjusting her body towards him, she fluttered her lashes. “Tell me more.”
“Here or somewhere else?”
She pursed her lips tightly. “One date and you think…”
“We’ve been on three dates,” Brent corrected.
“Okay, three dates and you already feel worthy of private conversations? I am losing my touch.”
“Shit, you ain’t touched me yet,” Brent’s voice dipped, wanting her to hear every letter slide across her skin.
Meadow stared at Brent. He was fine, no doubt, but he didn’t give her those butterflies Tia talked about.
He didn’t consume her daily thoughts. She didn’t put much effort into their interactions or worry about how she looked before going out with him.
Simply put, there was no spark or zing that made her feel like electricity was running through her body.
He was cool.
Being around him felt a little dangerous like she liked but he didn’t own her.
Meadow thought the man of her dreams would own her in subtle ways. Ways that made her think about him before she made a move or uttered a word, ways that made her skin crawl when he was upset with her, because pleasing him was at the top of her list of things to do.
Brent was none of that, did none of that.
Yet, she found herself giddy enough to flirt, go out on dates, and possibly ride him all night long. She didn’t feel anything whimsical for him, but liked the idea of just being a normal adult, having fun.
Meadow sipped her drink. “You want me to touch you?” Her almond eyes peeked from over the rim of the glass.
Rum punch was her drink of choice and at Lounging Around, they made it look expensive in a cutesy martini glass with sugar around the rim and colorful fruits.
“Yea.” Brent squeezed his eyes into a slit.
“Where?”
Brent’s gaze slid down her body and back up. “Wherever them hands feel like goin’.”
Meadow hummed, pretending to think, tapping one manicured finger on her glass. “That’s a dangerous invitation. I don’t always play nice.”
He leaned in, elbows on his knees, voice close enough to warm her ear. “Good, ‘cause I don’t like that fake nice shit anyway.”
Meadow laughed. “You say that now, but I break things when I get bored.”
Brent’s smile widened. “That’ll keep shit interesting.”
Meadow’s grin sharpened, all sugar and smoke. “You tryna make me your hobby, huh?”
“Nah,” he dragged his gaze over her again, “more like a habit.”
“Hmmm,” she blinked, pretending to be unimpressed, though her body leaned closer anyway. “You think you got habit energy?”
He reached out and brushed a loose curl from her shoulder, his fingertips grazing the bare skin there. “Guess you’ll have to find out.”
For a split second, she let him linger—just enough for him to think he was winning—then she sat back, lips curving into a soft, knowing smile. “I’ll think about it,” she said, sipping again. “But don’t get too comfortable. I retire niggas quick.”
Brent chuckled. He loved Meadow’s grown woman energy. She didn’t play coy, thinking that’s what niggas liked. “Then I better make sure you remember me.”
“Brent,” she said, setting her glass down and leaning in so her perfume floated between them, “if I decide to remember you, you’ll never forget it.”
Brent licked his bottom lip, grinning. “You talk a lot of shit for somebody scared to back it up.”
Meadow’s brows shot up. “Scared? Oh, sweetheart…” She shifted closer until her knee brushed his. “Fear ain’t got nothin’ to do with it. I just like to make sure whoever I feed can handle the meal.”
“Ooh!” Tia hollered across the table, fanning herself with a napkin. “Not too much, Meadow!”
Meadow turned with a smirk. “Mind your married business, Mrs. Honeymoon Phase.”
“You are my business,” Tia giggled.
Brent laughed too, his hand finding Meadow’s thigh again. “She gon’ make me forget how to act.”
“Nigga, please,” Meadow said, brushing him off but not moving his hand. “Ain’t nobody responsible for your behavior but you.”
Tia cackled, slapping Blain’s arm. “See, that’s why she single. Too many disclaimers before dessert.”
“Don’t hate ‘cause my boundaries come with benefits,” Meadow shot back.
Blain chuckled. “She got a point.”
“Thank you, Blain,” Meadow said sweetly, tilting her glass toward him. “A man that listens…take notes, Brent.”
“I listen,” Brent murmured, eyes fixed on her lips. “It’s the behaving part I have a hard time with.”
Meadow’s tongue swept across her sugar-coated straw as she hummed. “That right there might be your best quality.”
“Then stop actin’ like you don’t like it.”
Tia groaned. “Y’all are nasty! Can y’all please wait until we get home before y’all start fuckin’?”