Naomi
Sunlight streams through windows and into the room in warm and golden hues, its brilliance mocking the storm churning inside me. The knot of nausea in my chest feels like a boulder—heavy, unrelenting.
My hand rises instinctively to shield my eyes as I yawn, pulling the sheets back carefully. Aisha’s still asleep beside me, her steady breathing the only sign of calm.
My body feels… wrong. Every movement feels like wading through a fog. Shifting onto my elbow, my limbs tremble as though they’ve forgotten how to hold me up.
I know exactly where we are: Aisha’s childhood bedroom.
Floral wallpaper decorates the walls, and the worn edges of her favorite throw blanket drapes across our feet—we’ve spent countless nights in this room.
Whispering about crushes, laughing until our stomachs hurt, detangling our curls.
But this time, I can’t remember how we got here.
I do know one thing though, Mrs. Mortez is probably making a full Jamaican breakfast for our hangovers—her motto is a little ackee and saltfish is the cure to all.
As my stomach begins to churn, I push the heaven-sent delight out of my mind.
My body might revolt at the thought of anything but mint tea right now.
I grab my clutch, rifling through it with shaky fingers, the motion steadying me as my fingers graze each item.
Nothing’s missing, thank God. Losing my driver’s license would’ve been the cherry on top of this shit sundae.
I don’t even want to think about braving the California DMV.
It should be considered a circle of hell.
Fishing out my phone, the screen illuminates with several missed calls and a couple of text messages, one in particular catching my attention, my finger hovering over it.
Embarrassment creeps up on me, and memories flash in sharp fragments: him pulling me close, the way his hands gripped my waist, his heat sinking through my dress. I don’t remember putting up much of a fight, so I’m almost grateful that I woke up in Aisha’s bed.
But it begs the question: Did anything happen?
Before I have time to quietly scurry off into the bathroom, Aisha stirs.
“Good morning, sleepyhead,” I greet her lightly, masking the tension in my voice. “Feeling up for a ten-mile jog?” I smirk.
“Fuck off,” she groans, her voice muffled under the covers.
Instead of leaving her in peace, I climb on top of her, straddling her with zero remorse. “Well, aren’t we a ray of sunshine this morning?” I tease, leaning close to where I think her ear is.
“Get off! Your coochie is hot as shit,” she hisses, trying to buck me off.
Giggling, I dig my knees into the mattress for balance. “Not until you get up. You’re gonna be late.”
“Shit. What time is it?” she groans, shoving me aside and flipping the covers off in a rush.
She scrambles around the room, and I giggle as she stops mid-step, glancing around as if she is in the twilight zone.
“Lady?”
“Yes, June?” I reply, my grin widening.
“How the hell did we end up here?” she demands, throwing her hands in the air.
“Girl, I don’t know. I had the same night you did.” I hop off the bed, my fingers sifting through the sheets to find my phone. “The last thing I remember was going to the bathroom. Someone followed me. They were trying to talk, but then Jaxon…”
I trail off. The memory feels jagged, incomplete.
“Then Jaxon what, Naomi?” Aisha’s voice cuts through deep thought, sharp with curiosity. I can already sense that damn grin tugging at her lips.
“Nothing.” I deflect. “Let’s talk about you and Xayvion instead. Did you at least get enough for the both of us?”
“Oh, is that his name?” She says , giving me a thoughtful look. “You know him?”
“Sis, you were basic—you know what, nevermind.” I huff, shaking my head. “Yes, I know him. Xay is one of the guys on my security team.”
“You seeee. All the damn luck.”
“From what I saw, he wanted you badly.” I roll my hips, giving her a saucy grin. “So, are you gonna spill or not?
“Bitch, I’m here with you,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Does it look like I got any?”
Rolling my eyes, I finally free my phone from the mess of sheets and glance at the screen again. Three new texts stare back at me—two are from Max and Tris...
The last...
Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.
Jaxon:
Hey. I hope you’re alright. I told Max you were staying with Aisha at her parents’ house. You both looked like you had a rough night, figured you could use some time away from the city.
Call me when you’re up. I left Advil on the nightstand.
I glance over my shoulder. Sure enough, there’s a bottle of Advil and a tall glass of water sitting neatly on the nightstand.
I guess that’s how we ended up here. He drove all the way out just to give us some “time away.” In theory, Malibu is only forty-four minutes from L.A., but with the magic of traffic, it might as well be a cross-country trip.
“For the record, though,” she says, her tone too casual to be a coincidence, dragging me out of my thoughts. “At least Xay and I aren’t burning with sexual tension.”
Lifting my gaze to hers, I arch a brow. “And this is relevant because…?”
She tilts her head as if to say “really,” resting her hand on her popped hip. “What did Jaxon say?”
In this moment, I realize two truths. One—There is nothing, not a micro expression, that I can creep past my best friend, so I am not surprised she doesn’t have to look at my phone to know who’s texting.
And two—I’ve been scowling at my phone for the past two minutes trying to figure out why his delicate care gives butterflies that I feel the overwhelming urge to drown in tequila… until they die.
“Jaxon and I are not burning in sexual tension,” I grumble as my phone starts to vibrate in my hand, not at all helping my scant case. “Nice to see you’re on my side here.”
Clicking the button on the side of the phone as discreetly as possible, the damn thing finally silences. Just as I toss it onto her nightstand, a fresh wave of vibration spills through the room. And there is no ignoring it this time, the buzzing amplifies against the wood.
Aisha’s grin spreads wide as she folds her arms across her chest. “I’m always on your side, Naomi. But, I wonder who could be calling this early…” Her voice drips with faux innocence. “Let’s answer it together, shall we?”
I glare at her before snatching my phone off the nightstand. Without even glancing at the screen, I accept the call.
“Good morning, Mr. Knox,” I answer smoothly, keeping my voice cool and detached.
Aisha rolls her eyes dramatically, mouthing “pretentious bitch” as she huddles closer to me. I swat her away, but she’s relentless. “Ask about Xay,” she mouths.
“Good morning, Reina, as I’ve told you before, Jaxon is fine, and I don’t like repeating myself.” He replies, his tone laced with a hint of irritation. My formality, clearly, rubs him the wrong way, but he continues, “How did you sleep?”
“Fine, thank you,” I reply curtly. “You didn’t have to go out of your way to drive us all the way out here…
” Aisha nudges me with her elbow, and it lands painfully along my ribcage.
“ …alone,” I add, as I struggle to cover my wince.
“I know that must’ve been a brutal drive so late at night by yourself. ”
His chuckle is low and warm, sliding down my spine and igniting fresh heat in my core. “Is that your way of asking if Xay came with me?”
Before I can respond, Jaxon shifts gears smoothly. “Good morning, Aisha,” he says, his voice tinged with amusement.
Her smile vanishes instantly, and my gaze finds hers, as a smug grin settles on my lips. Holding the phone out to her, I mouth, “Well, don’t be shy now.”
She clears her throat, suddenly stiff. “Good morning, Jaxon,” she manages after a beat, slipping the phone from my hand and tapping the speaker button. “Thank you for taking us all this way. You didn’t have to.”
“It was no trouble at all,” he replies, his tone light, but there’s an edge of something else. “And hey, Xay’s good company, so it’s all good. You should call him. He’ll be happy to hear from you.”
Her eyes widen in panic, and she starts pacing the room. “Um… yeah. Definitely. I’ll give him a call.”
This version of Aisha? I don’t know her—nervous, sweaty, and jittery. Nothing close to the unbothered vixen I know.
I can’t help but giggle softly; it slips out before I can stop it.
Immediately, her head snaps toward me, her glare sharp enough to slice through steel. But then her lips curve into a sinister grin, and I know exactly what she’s thinking. I can hear her damn thoughts loud and clear from across the room.
“Don’t,” I mouth, shaking my head quickly.
She tilts her head, her grin widening as if to say, ‘Oh, sweet friend, just you wait. ’
“You know, Jaxon,” Aisha says, narrowly dodging me as I sprint toward her. My momentum sends me crashing into her dresser, rattling a lamp and scattering my dignity across the floor. By the time I right myself, she’s already across the room, standing in the bathroom doorway, silently cackling.
“Naomi was just telling me—”
I charge at her again, but she giggles, slamming the door in my face and clicking the lock into place.
“Aisha, come on!” I bang my fist against the door, frustration sharpening my tone. “Quit it!”
Her laughter filters through the door, light and teasing. “It’s rude to interrupt a conversation, Lady,” she calls back mockingly. “Don’t worry. I’ll give him back in a minute.”
The whispering starts again, too soft for me to catch any details. And as I pace, biting my nails, my imagination runs wild with whatever the hell she’s saying. Finally, the lock clicks again, and the door swings open.
She tosses the phone at me with a practiced nonchalance, sashaying past like she didn’t just send my blood pressure skyrocketing.
Fumbling the phone, I barely manage to catch it and press it to my ear, forcing my voice into something resembling calm. “Hello?”