Chapter 29
Sabine paused in the doorway, her breath hitching. She took one step inside and the room swallowed her whole. Say ahh was blasting over the hall.
It wasn’t a college party. Not exactly but damned if it didn’t feel like one.
The lights were low, bodies swaying, cups in hands.
Somebody had dragged a couch against the wall, red Solo cups were stacked near a too-big punch bowl, and off in the corner, a DJ bobbed his head behind a makeshift setup.
And everybody—mostly the women because they stood out—were dressed like it was that year again. Skinny jeans, Jeffrey Campbells, even the bright pink lipstick. Sabine’s mouth fell open. She didn’t even have time to ask or wonder.
“Come on, you,” Reeka grinned, pulling Sabine towards the back. She was wearing a band skirt with leggings, side ponytail and lashes long as a bird’s feathers. “Time for your costume change.”
“My…what?”
“You heard me. Let’s go. You ain't bouta be out here looking all regular while the rest of us dressed like we still at Thirsty Thursday 2010.”
Sabine was too shocked to respond. Reeka dragged her down the hallway of the event space. She shoved open the bathroom door and practically threw her inside.
“What is happening right now?” Sabine asked, breath catching again.
“Put this on,” Reeka tossed a black and gold shopping bag.
Sabine stared at it unmovingly. Reeka folded her arms and leaned against the door like a bouncer at a club.
“Baby, I don’t know what y’all got goin’ on. I don’t wanna know but my cousin said be here, so I’m here. And what you not about to do is disrespect the detail he went through to recreate this moment.”
“Mo…moment,” Sabine’s eyes glossed, blinking fast as it finally clicked. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Why…why is he doing this?”
“Because,” Reeka stepped in closer, grabbing a tissue from the counter and gently wiping her eyes, “we all fuck up sometimes but he want one more chance, Bine…just one.” She tossed the tissue into the trash, flicking her wrist. “So get dressed and come see what this nigga talkin’ ’bout,” she added with a sassy grin handing her another bag, making Sabine laugh through her tears. “Okay?”
Nodding, Sabine responded, “okay.”
She reached into the bag with trembling fingers and pulled out a strapless powder pink bodycon dress.
Same cut. Same color. Same everything as the one she’d worn the night they met.
Beneath it? The fucking black and white Converse with extra-long laces to twirl up her legs like she used to wear them in college.
Sabine nearly fell to her knees.
“You got five minutes,” Reeka said softly now, seeing her get emotional the more that became revealed. “This man tryna earn you back. Let him.”
Sabine’s hand clutched the edge of the sink. Her reflection stared back at her—raw, uncertain, overwhelmed but something inside her steadied.
“Okay,” she whispered. “I’ll change.”
Reeka smirked. “That’s my girl and hurry up! I’m ready to sweat my edges out! Narri said y’all was partyin’ back in school!”
Then she shut the door, leaving Sabine alone with the mirror, the dress, and the weight of everything this night could become.
Sabine took her time. The dress slid on like muscle memory.
Tight in the right places, soft in the rest. It hugged her body like she remembered.
She stepped into the Converse next, sitting on the closed toilet to wind the long laces up her calves like she used to—crisscrossed and knotted.
She hadn’t forgotten as she’d done this a thousand times in the past. She used to be a party girl.
Her makeup was already light, so she just added a little more gloss, fixed a smudge near her eye, and fluffed her curls with damp fingertips.
It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t even really 2010 but somehow it felt like it.
Like her body knew this version of herself.
The version who still believed in love like it was solid ground and not something that could disappear under your feet.
She kept crying.
And laughing.
Quiet, breathy sounds she tried to stifle with tissue and shaky exhales. Adair had done a lot of shit—but this? This was…something else. She hadn’t expected to feel anything tonight, let alone everything. Her heart was doing that thing where it hurt and healed at the same time.
By the time she opened the bathroom door, her eyes were still damp, but she looked like a memory in motion.
She stepped into the hallway slowly, half-expecting to wake up from it but there they were Narri and Reeka, dancing together in the middle of the hallway like it was their pregame apartment again.
Although Reeka wasn’t apart of the memory, she was happy she was there to recreate it with them.
Reeka had a solo cup in her hand, her hips popping in rhythm. Narri was leaned back laughing, one arm in the air, holding a slice of pizza and doing her best body roll.
They didn’t see her at first.
Then Narri turned and froze.
“BINE!!” Narri screamed, arms waving. “YESSSSSSSSSS BITCH!!”
“You look like a young jawn, Bine!” Reeka smiled.
Sabine laughed, wiping under her eyes again just as the first notes of Rihanna’s “What’s My Name” blared through the speakers. That beat—those opening lyrics—it was too much.
Oh na na…what’s my name?
“No crying right now,” Narri grabbed her hand. “Come dance, bestie! Right now!”
Sabine let herself be pulled. She didn’t fight it. Narri twirled her like they were back at campus parties, yelling out lyrics at the top of their lungs. Reeka joined, cheeks red from laughing.
They found the middle of the dance floor and let it all go. People moved around them, but they were the sun in that moment, spinning, singing, rhythmless.
Sabine laughed so hard her stomach hurt. Her cheeks burned. Her eyes were glossy, but it didn’t matter. This was joy. This was where it started. Familiar and fragile and full. She hadn’t even noticed him yet.
Adair stood near the drinks table, just like he had back then. Leaning, watching. His red cup in hand, gaze steady and locked on her. And this time, much like the first time—
He was already in love.
“The square root of sixty-nine is eight some, right? Cause I been tryna work it out, ohhh!” Narri and Sabine sang into their fist mic.
“Good weed, white wine, I come alive in the nighttime!” Reeka rapped. “Okayyy, away we go…”
“Only thing we have on is the radio-ooooooo!”
“Let it play!” the three of them screamed together.
Adair told himself he was playing it cool, keeping his distance. Letting her soak it in without pressure but the truth was, he couldn’t move. Couldn’t even blink right. Sabine looked so much like the girl he met in 2010, it rattled him but it wasn’t the dress or the shoes or the song that got him.
It was her smile.
That full, radiant, big-ass smile that used to knock the wind out of him. She was glowing. Crying and dancing and laughing like joy wasn’t a luxury—it was her birthright.
And he just stood there. Holding his cup. Heart on fire.
“You breathing nigga?” Tate bumped his shoulder.
Exhaling, Adair realized he wasn’t. “Shit, barely.”
Tate laughed as he watched his own dream girl twirl on the dance floor, smile wide, glowing, most likely from another life she chose to carry from him. She was his blessing. “I ain’t gon’ lie, I know this about you and Bine, but all I see is my girl from 2010 too.”
They stood in silence again, the music loud, the memories louder. Adair chose that moment to tell his friend some truth.
“I’m tellin’ you now, don’t wait too long. Don’t let whatever pride or fear or dumb shit you holdin’ keep you from speakin’ up. Talk to her, don’t let it fester. Don’t let her wonder. I know what that kind of silence does to a woman who already been through hell. I know what it did to mine.”
Tate swallowed. Adair finally looked away from Sabine, just for a second, and turned to face him.
“You love her?”
“Yeah.”
“Then act like it.”
Tate nodded slowly, jaw tight. “You too.”
Adair smirked faintly. “Already on it.” He handed Tate his cup. Rolled his shoulders once. Wiped his palms on his jeans like a nervous college boy again. Then—
He started walking.
Through the crowd. Past the solo cups and laughter and old memories dressed like new ones. Toward the only woman he’d ever truly wanted.
Sabine was mid-spin, still laughing with Reeka and Narri when she felt it. That heat. That sense of being seen so thoroughly it made her skin prickle. She had to steady her breathing and really play into this. Play into him.
Hey boy, I really wanna see if you…can go downtown with a girl like me!” sang Rihanna over the speakers.
“Hey boy, I really wanna be with you, cause you just my type, ooh na na na na!”
She sang that part.
Their part.
“So,” Adair leaned down, voice low, “I’m your type?”
Sabine’s eyes went wide. Her hand flew to her chest. She didn’t expect this to feel the way it did but…it did. God, it did. She looked to Narri who had a hand over her mouth crying while watching it all play out.
“Jesus!” she spun around, holding her chest, laughing through the tears. “You scared me!”
“My fault.” Adair grinned, unable to help it and just like that night in 2010, every other woman in the room disappeared.
There was only him…and her.
It was impossible not to drink her in—those same hooded brown eyes, that same mouth that he missed giving sweet kisses but now there were fine lines by her eyes, a sadness tucked beneath her smile. She wasn’t the girl from 2010. She was the woman who survived everything that happened after.
Narri couldn’t even play her part because she was so emotional. Tate had to take her off the dance floor to console her. It was definitely their unborn playing a part.
“I was gonna ask if you wanted to dance,” he said, heartbeat thundering even now.
“Okay.” The way she cheesed—with no filter, no shame—made his knees damn near buckle.
She was playing along and he loved her more for it.
She stepped forward and started dancing exactly like she had that night—off-beat, chaotic, unbothered.
Her arms flailed, her hips moved out of sync with the beat, and yet…
It was perfect.
Adair didn’t touch her. Didn’t interrupt. He just let her be.
“What’s your name?”
“Suh-bean,” she pronounced. “What’s yours?”
“Adair.”
“That’s cute!”
After a few songs, she fanned herself and motioned for water. He led her over to the table, grabbed a bottle, and handed it to her. She downed it like her life depended on it, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand.
“You don’t talk?” she asked, same sassy position towards a guy from back then.
“I do.”
“Well…” she rocked side to side, mock awkward, just like before. “Okay! Thanks for the dance.” She turned to walk away and he gently caught her wrist.
“I…” he started, clearing his throat. “I wanted to get your number.”
“My number?” Sabine raised a brow.
“Yeah.”
“Hmmm…” she tapped her chin, eyes gleaming. “Why?”
“Why?” he repeated, pretending to be just as flustered as he’d been back then. Sabine tilted her head, waiting. Adair stepped closer. Their bodies didn’t touch, but it felt like they did.
“Because I need to keep in contact with my wife.”
Sabine laughed—real and hard. “Your wife?!”
“That’s what I said.” He pulled out his phone and held it up like he had no shame in his game. “Don’t leave your husband hanging,” he added.
Sabine tucked her lips, trying to hold the emotion back but her fingers were already reaching for the phone and instead of entering a contact he already had, she went to his notes app, typed something out.
She handed it back and asked, “Is that all, dear husband?”
“For now…”
She made a move to walk away again, but he gently caught her one more time.
“Where you goin’?”
“Back to my crybaby ass friend,” Sabine joked, and they both looked over at Narri cursing Tate out and they hollered, breaking character for a second.
Clearing his throat, Adair asked, “can I have a hug?”
Sabine froze—just like before. Her lips parted but no sound came out. Then she stepped onto her toes, slowly, arms circling his neck as if they’d never forgotten how. His arms wrapped around her waist. Tight. Familiar.
I knew it, Adair thought.
Still her.
Still them.
But this time, he wouldn’t take that hug for granted. Not a single second of it.
I knew it, Sabine thought.
Still him.
Still them.
But this time, she wasn’t hugging a fantasy. She wasn’t pretending the past hadn’t happened.
This was real. This was earned.
And for the first time in a long time—
She let herself hold him like she remembered.
And be held like she deserved.
Because maybe—just maybe—this wasn’t the end of their story. Maybe it was the beginning of a new chapter they hadn’t dared to write yet.