Chapter 6 Lyrix
Lyrix
I woke up naked and wrapped in every damn sheet like I was the last roll of tissue on Earth.
My eyes were still blurry. My mouth was dry. My thighs were… talking to me.
And I had the kind of headache that whispered, “Girl, you knew better than to take all them shots and bounce that much ass in one night.”
I groaned and sat up slowly, squinting at the sunlight slipping through the hotel curtains. That’s when I saw a whole expanse of chocolate skin, glistening in the soft morning glow.
Maison was sitting at the edge of the bed, shirtless, sipping coffee, and smiling like he’d just seen the secrets of the universe… on my damn vision board.
“Damn,” I croaked, rubbing my temples. “Are y’all bodies just used to doing this every day or something? I feel like I got ran over by a Bourbon Street bus.”
He laughed, his voice rich like his coffee. “I guess when you’re raised around it, it becomes natural. I can party all night and be back up early the next morning, ready to do it all over again.”
Must be nice.
He stood, walked over to a little rolling cart, and pulled off the silver tops, revealing trays of food that smelled like heaven.
“I ordered you some breakfast,” he said, still grinning. “Figured you’d need it. I wanted to take you somewhere today.”
I blinked. “Where?”
He leaned against the cart, arms crossed, looking way too good for 9 a.m. “There’s no way I can show you all of New Orleans in one day. So let me be your guide until you leave. We’ll knock out everything on that board and more.”
I raised an eyebrow. “That kinda breaks the whole idea of a Heaux Phase. Pretty sure the rules say I’m supposed to engage with multiple men.”
He smirked and handed me a glass of orange juice. “But do you really wanna do that?”
I took a slow sip, stalling—because honestly… no. No, I didn’t.
I liked him. I liked the way he looked at me like I was the only woman in the room. I liked the way he kissed me like he had all the time in the world. I really liked what his tongue had done to me, too. And I was very curious about what the rest of him was capable of.
It had been over a year since anyone touched me like that. Honestly, my walls might collapse from pressure if he hit it too hard. They weren’t used to that kind of attention, and I wasn’t either.
He walked over, sat beside me, and brushed my hair back off my shoulder with the gentlest touch.
“I know what the phase was supposed to be,” he said, his voice low, “but maybe the universe wanted you to find one good experience that made you feel everything. Not just the highs, but the joy, the ease, the softness…”
He kissed my bare shoulder, slow and warm. “Let me give you that. Let me be the reason this whole trip brings out the Heaux in you.”
I tried not to smile. “What about work? Don’t you have to help your parents?”
He smiled, picking up his cup again. “My job needs me. I don’t need them. I’ll take a few calls here and there, sure, but they can give me a week to show the prettiest girl in the city around.”
That made my cheeks burn a little. The man had the nerve to be fine, sweet, and available? Whew.
“I ain’t saying yes,” I said, grabbing a grape off the tray.
“You don’t have to. Not yet,” he said, leaning in, lips brushing my ear. “But by tonight, you’ll wonder why you ever wanted a Heaux Phase that didn’t start… and end… with me.”
If this was what vacation hearts were made of, I was absolutely in danger.
Later that afternoon, we pulled up to the Superdome.
I should’ve known something was up the moment Maison told me to get some rest because he’d be back in a few hours to “take me shopping.” I mean, what man you just met says that and actually follows through?
When we walked into the store, and I saw black and gold everywhere. Jerseys, hats, foam fingers, jackets, I already knew what was going on.
“Oh, so you tricked me,” I laughed, picking up a glittery Saints cap. “This where we headed?”
“Yep,” he said, grinning. “It’s your first time in New Orleans close to Mardi Gras and it’s football Sunday? You think I’m not taking you to see the Saints when we have a home game? That’s illegal.”
I’d never been to an NFL game before in my life, but the way he was excited? Made me feel like I’d been missing out.
When we stepped into the Superdome, it was like stepping into a whole other world.
The energy hit me first. Gold beads and Mardi Gras masks were everywhere.
People were dressed like they were going to a costume ball and a tailgate at the same damn time.
Music was blasting, people were dancing in the aisles, and everybody was hollering “Who dat!”
I looked around, wide-eyed. “This ain’t no football game. This a festival.”
Maison laughed beside me. “Told you. You can’t come to New Orleans on a home game day and not experience this.”
The seats were good too. We were close enough to see the players, but high enough to take in the whole stadium. He handed me a drink, and I leaned back, watching the pre-game show unfold like a concert. The cheerleaders. The crowd screaming like Beyoncé just walked out.
Then the game started… and I was immediately lost.
“Wait,” I leaned toward him, squinting at the field. “Why they keep backing up? Did we lose something? That don’t look good.”
He snorted. “That’s called a penalty.”
“Oh. So… are we losing?”
“It just started.”
“Oh. Cool cool.”
He shook his head, trying not to laugh. “Lyrix, you know nothing about football, do you?”
“Absolutely not,” I said, dead serious.
He put his arm around my shoulder and pulled me closer. “It’s okay. Just look cute and enjoy the vibes. Every time I cheer, you cheer too.”
I grinned. “That’ll work.”
I pulled out my phone and started snapping pictures and videos of the crowd.
It was the vibe for me—people dancing in the aisles and even a man in a feathered headpiece doing the most dramatic twerk I’d ever seen in my life.
Somebody passed me a string of gold beads and yelled “WHO DAT!” and I screamed back, even though I still didn’t fully understand what it meant.
I was in the moment surrounded by all the joy and culture. I realized why people say New Orleans is the place to be.
We left the Superdome feeling like winners. The crowd was electric as we stepped out into the night air. Horns were honking, people waving flags, strangers hugging like cousins at a reunion.
I looked over at Maison. “So… does the city turn up even harder now that y’all won?”
He looked at me, laughing. “Lyrix… this city about to be lit. It’s going to be a wild night.”
I shook my head, laughing. “See, that’s what I don’t get. Like, how are y’all built like this? I swear y’all got different organs. Ain’t no way the human body is supposed to keep up with this much partying.”
He chuckled, sliding his hands in his pockets as we walked. “It’s just how we live. We embrace the moment. The music, the food, the people around us. We turn up for what we do have, because we’ve lost so much already.”
His tone shifted slightly, just enough for me to catch the weight in his words.
I looked at him, and I knew. “Hurricane Katrina.”
He nodded slowly. “That storm didn’t just take homes.
It took history. Took generations of memories.
Some people never came back. Some couldn’t.
But the ones who stayed? We had to rebuild—block by block, heart by heart.
Some parts of the city’ll never be the same…
but we won’t let them take it all. We make this city.
And we love it too damn much to let it die. ”
There was so much pride in his voice. So much pain and passion wrapped in every word, I couldn’t help but reach over and grab his hand.
“Come on,” I said, threading my fingers through his. “Let’s go celebrate.”
We walked through the streets hand in hand, the music from every corner pulling us deeper into the rhythm of the city. A brass band passed by, second-lining their way into the night with people following behind like it was a block party.
Maison reached for my waist, gently swaying me side to side.
“Okay, two-step!” he said, watching me move. “There you go. I thought you said you don’t dance in public?”
I laughed, my head tilting back a little as I stepped in sync with him. “It’s the culture. I swear, it’s rubbing off on me. Every time I hear that music, I have to move.”
He smiled, wide and boyish, before spinning me around like we were on a makeshift dance floor. He pulled me close again, his arms wrapped low on my waist, and dipped down just enough to press a slow, lingering kiss to the side of my neck.
It was soft and intimate. I felt my breath catch in my throat.
For a second, I wasn’t in New Orleans. I wasn’t halfway through a spontaneous Heaux Phase checklist. I was in some Black-ass romance movie that was never gonna win an Oscar, but would live rent-free in your spirit forever.
I didn’t even know Maison’s last name. It didn’t matter because I really didn’t care to know.
I turned around, grabbed his face between my hands, and kissed him.
His lips were warm, like he’d been waiting for me to make the move. I didn’t care who was watching. Apparently, everyone was.
“WOOOOOO!” someone yelled. “Stick your tongue down her throat!”
We both cracked up, falling out of the kiss, our foreheads touching as we laughed.
Maison grinned and said, “The city’s rooting for us. You sure you’re not ready to move here?”
“Whatever,” I said, still laughing, cheeks flushed.
We kept walking, still laughing from that wild crowd moment, when we turned a corner and saw a girl on the sidewalk jumping up and down, waving her arms at a group of people on a balcony.
The guys above tossed a string of shiny gold beads down, and she caught them with a squeal like she’d won the lottery.
“Ooh!” I gasped, eyes lighting up. “I want some beads!”
I started waving both hands in the air, full of excitement, bouncing like a kid trying to get picked in gym class.