Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Lot
Think you can handle my equipment?
It’s been a day and a half since I’ve spoken to Dice. Thirty-some hours since his confession… and mine.
For years I told myself Dice didn’t care. Turns out, I was dead wrong. Rayne saw it. C saw it. But me? I missed the signs, too busy nursing my own hurt feelings to notice Dice was busted up over me leaving. Shrugging it off was just his way of coping.
And yeah—I hate to admit—what I did was mean. Straight-up petty. If I were Dice, I wouldn’t be half as forgiving. But then he goes and says that he doesn’t just want me back in his life—he wants me.
He’s wanted me all along. Just hid it well like I did.
It took everything in me not to pounce on that man right then and there. My feral impulses were loud as fuck. But that little voice in my head kept telling me to pause, breathe, get some perspective. I’m not that naive girl anymore, pining for Dice, hoping he’ll fall in love with me.
We live seven hundred miles apart. Different states. Different lives. I like my freedom and independence, and Dice for damn sure likes his.
Still… just because neither of us is looking for anything serious doesn’t mean sex between us won’t get messy. That’s why I gotta stifle my wilder tendencies and actually think this through.
“Meow.” Queenie hops up on the bed, curling herself next to Spider-Man.
“Girl, that’s mine, and you have your own bed.”
“Meow.”
I give her the evil eye and go back to wrapping Sophia’s present.
As a die-hard Beyoncé stan, I framed a sketch I drew of her in the silver bodysuit and big silver hat from the Renaissance tour.
I’m sure Soph’s gonna flip over it. I also picked up a pair of earrings with dangly butterflies, her other obsession.
After adding the tissue paper to the gift bag, I shower and get dressed, taking a little extra time, making a little extra effort. No harm in showing up cute.
By the time Rayne and I arrive at C’s—wrestling Queenie in her carrier had put us behind—the evening’s in full swing.
The door’s unlocked. We hang up our coats and leave the gifts on the table with the rest. Swells of laughter and conversation rise as we descend the stairs into the basement.
Beyoncé’s voice pulses through the speakers.
The scent of food and drinks mixes with the heat of bodies mingling in a shared space.
Sophia is at the center of her Beyhive crew, the four of them dancing in formation, mouthing every word to “Get Me Bodied.”
Lexie, at home as hostess, waves us over to the table.
Dice is easy to spot. A durag covers his fade, and a taupe V-neck sweater fits snug around his arms and torso.
He’s at the card table with C, C’s barista Jamar, and Benny from Docks, dominoes slapping down in sharp, rattling bangs.
That cocky smirk tells me Dice is winning this round.
He takes his dominoes almost as seriously as his music.
Rayne sways to the beat, her hips moving in a pair of curvy-girl jeans—the style that fits the waist while giving more butt room for those of us with larger assets. She pulls me toward Lexie, but I stammer, caught mid-step when Dice looks up.
His fingers go still on the ivory bone. His dark gaze drops.
First to my Doc Martens, then climbs to the fishnet tights and black pleather shorts, and up to my baggy off-the-shoulder sweater.
He lingers on the image. A Black woman in profile takes up the front, her thick, coiled afro large.
The inscription in her gold hoop earring reads I love kink.
His grin spreads, catching the double meaning. I lift an eyebrow. Let him think what he wants.
Truth is, I can’t wait to ride that fine-ass man and discover all his turn-ons. But we need to set some ground rules first.
Rayne and I join the women. Funny how those invisible lines form.
Guys on one side, girls on the other. Socialization, I suppose.
Lexie is still new to me, but I like her.
She seems good for C. A former corporate exec from Chicago, she left that behind to settle in Bayside, help C run the café, and focus on photography.
Her shots of the town are dope. Rayne had bought some for the tourism website and brochures.
Lexie hugs me. I tense, then force my body to relax.
“Hey, ,” I say, my nickname for her. Nearly six feet, gorgeous, and quietly tough, she reminds me of Xena: Warrior Princess.
“Hi, Lot. Love the outfit.”
“Ya know. Breaking out the fishnets.”
“You pull it off well. How’s your father recovering?”
“Complaining, so back to his usual.”
She gives me a knowing smile. Her family drama runs darker than mine, but she’s been accepted here like one of our own.
Lexie hands me a glass of chilled wine, and I leave her and Rayne chatting as I make my way over to Sophia and her tribe. I remember them all as kids. Now they’re in their early twenties.
Soph flashes her signature dimples, identical to her brother’s. “I’m so glad you came.”
“Wouldn’t miss your send-off.” I tap my glass to hers. “Excited?”
“Yeah.” She bounces on the balls of her feet.
She looks pretty in a soft pink sweater, her sandy twists falling to her waist. Sophia is pure rainbows and sunshine, a burst of energy in human form. It’s good to see her vibrant spirit back.
“Chloe got me an interview at her company for a brand assistant role,” she starts chattering, open as ever.
“We wouldn’t be in the same department, which is good.
Living and working together might be too much.
Plus, you know, the other stuff. I just want to respect her boundaries.
Be a good friend and not expect anything more. ”
I nod, familiar with their history.
“Chloe still worries that I’m curious.” She air quotes. “Doesn’t want to be an experiment. I get it, but I don’t think it’s just curiosity. I’ve been attracted to girls before, nothing as intense as I’ve felt with Chloe. But I also like dating guys. Does that make me bi?”
“I don’t know, Soph. Sounds like you’re still exploring and figuring it out. Try not to put pressure on yourself to fit into a box. You might just vibe with who you vibe with, no matter the gender.”
“Yeah, maybe,” she says.
“You’re young,” I add, stepping out of my comfort zone to offer advice, but I can see she’s struggling. “It’s your first time on your own as an adult. Live it. Experience it. Get to know yourself. That’s what I did when I went to New York. You’ll figure it out.”
“Thanks, Lot. Who says you’re not sensitive?”
“Me.”
“Well, you’re wrong.” She laughs. “So, what about you and Dice?”
“What about us?”
“You tell me.”
“Nothing to tell. We’re back on friendly terms again.”
She jerks her chin toward the card table. “He hasn’t taken his eyes off you since you got here. Looks more than friendly to me.” She bumps my hip and grins.
I just sip my wine and sneak a peek to find him still watching me.
Later, when the dominoes game has ended, the pool challenge begins. Lexie and I are paired against Chaz and Dice. Since Dice made up the teams, I know it’s not a coincidence.
“Looking for a spanking, boys?” I taunt, chalking up the end of my cue.
“You always were a trash-talker,” Dice says, coming up behind me. He gets close, his breath warm against my ear. His cologne carrying that fresh lemon scent has me inhaling deep. “What do I get when I win?” he whispers.
“You won’t win,” I say, my competitive streak stubborn and strong.
“Then put some skin in the game.” His knuckles barely ghost my exposed shoulder, but I feel the touch down to my toes.
“What do you want?”
“If I win, you come home with me tonight and let me peel those fishnets off you.”
Holy fuck. But I play it cool. “I win, you let me spin some tracks at Docks on Friday.”
“You think you can handle playing on my equipment?” he teases.
“How hard can it be?” I drawl, elbowing him aside to get into position. I lean over the pool table and give him a deliberate wiggle of my ass before I break the balls. Clean shot, calling stripes and sinking the blue and white into the left corner pocket.
“Woot!” Lexie cheers, and the rest of the party jumps in, taking sides as the game begins.
Lexie holds her own, but I’m a shark, and we handily win two out of three games, though Dice claims the one they took was the only one that counted.
C just laughs, shaking his head, happy to see us on good terms again.
“Friday,” I say smugly, raising my hands to the roof. “DJ Web in da house.”
Dice chuckles, brushing against me as he puts away the sticks, creating a static current. “That last game was a setup.”
“Mm-hmm… keep telling yourself that.”
The playful energy between us doesn’t let up.
But Dice isn’t just delivering on the banter, he’s also attentive.
Making me a plate of food, refreshing my drink, checking in on me as the night progresses.
He knows I get claustrophobic in small spaces with too many people for too long, even when I like them.
The intensity can sometimes feel like the walls are closing in and making it hard to breathe.
When I need air, I slip upstairs to the bathroom and then out onto the back porch. I hear the glass door slide open behind me a few minutes later. I turn to see Dice.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Yeah. Just needed a minute to dial it down.”
“Want me to leave you be?”
“You can stay.”
He joins me outside under the string of fairy lights. The night’s chilly, but not that brutal lake cold. A delicate mist clings to the metal railing, and the hum of the party is muffled through the walls.
“Mmm.” I tip my head back and look up at the quarter moon, the breeze on my face. “The cold feels good. Too much for you?”
“Bayside strong. I’m tough.”
I glance over at him. “Except when you’re crying like a baby over your loss.”
“How long are you gonna lord that win over me?”
“Two wins, and there’s no statute of limitations.”
He laughs, but his eyes hold something else. We lean against the railing, looking over the patchy yard where spring’s starting to push through the melting snow.
“Why haven’t you been at Docks?” he asks, watching me closely.
“I don’t work Saturdays. And it was closed today.”
“Let me rephrase that. Why have you been avoiding me?”
“It’s barely been thirty-six hours. You missed me already?”
“You got jokes.”
I curl my fingers over the cold metal. “I wasn’t avoiding you. I was taking a beat. Trying to figure out how to move forward.”
“And?”
“Now that the ‘wanting’ is out there, I don’t think we can just be friends or whatever we were before. There’s too much sexual tension.”
“Agreed.”
“So, if we’re going to do this, I think we need some ground rules.”
He tilts his head. “You don’t like rules.”
“I don’t. But we kept too much from each other before. This time we need to be open and honest.”
“All right.” He nods once. “I’m listening.”
“First, we can agree neither of us is looking for anything serious.”
“Define serious.”
I cut my eyes at him for being needlessly difficult. He knows what I mean, but I spell it out.
“Boyfriend-girlfriend. Long-term. Heading toward commitment.” I pause at his reaction. “Okay, you don’t need to make that face.”
“What face?”
“Like you’re smelling something nasty. Nose and mouth all twisted up.”
“I wasn’t—”
“If you saw your expression when I said the word commitment, you’d know.”
“Fine.” He shrugs. “You’re not wrong. Commitment isn’t my thing. But that doesn’t mean I don’t take you seriously.”
I like that he says that. After everything, he’s being careful with my feelings. “Then we can agree that we care about each other, but this isn’t some big romance that comes with expectations and obligations.”
“Fair.”
“I don’t need roses, but I still expect to be treated like a woman.”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” he concedes easily.
“Next is chemistry,” I say, ticking through the list in my head. “If, when the time comes, you’re just not feeling it, say so. Be straight with me. I’m a big girl, I can handle it.”
“Lot,” he says firmly, “there is zero chance in hell that I get you naked and not be feeling it.”
I don’t bite my lip, but God, I want to. “Maybe you won’t do it for me.”
“You’re funny, Web.”
I cut my eyes at him, but he just smirks, full of unshakable confidence.
“That brings me to the next point: your playa-playa rep. Don’t flaunt your… prowess in my face. That’ll piss me off. Keep your bar bunnies discreet. Be respectful.”
“Bar bunnies?”
“You know exactly what I mean. Just keep it out of my sight. Remember how you felt when I showed up at Docks with Tre?”
“That’s his name? Are you still seeing him?”
“I wasn’t seeing him. He was going to be a hookup until you—”
“Cockblocked him. Good. That’s a nonstarter for me.”
“What is?”
“Sharing you. Not happening. Period.”
“Then it goes both ways.”
“No problem.” His eyes roam over me. “Pretty sure you’re gonna wear me out.”
“Probably,” I say, knowing my appetite. “But don’t say one thing and do another.”
“This body’s all yours.” He spreads his arms wide, like that eagle tattoo on his chest. “Use and abuse me, Web.”
“I plan to.”
“Any other rules?” he asks, his fingers trailing over the back of my hand, tracing the knuckles, his gaze locked on mine.
“I’m good.” I swallow. “You?”
“Not quite. Unblock me.”
“Oops. Forgot about that.” I slide my hand away, pull out my phone, and remove the block. “There. Happy?”
“Depends. You coming home with me tonight?”
“No. I didn’t shave.”
“I don’t care.”
“I do. When are you off next?”
“Tuesday.” He groans. “That’s two whole nights.”
“We’ve waited this long. What’s two more nights?”
“Then give me something to tide me over.”
“I’m not giving you a handy on C’s porch.”
“Jesus, Lot. I meant a kiss.”
“Oh.” I blink. “Still no. I can’t kiss you here.”
“Why not?”
Because a first kiss with him feels monumental. I’m already overwhelmed just by the way he looks at me, touches me. I want him so much. But— “This isn’t the right time or place. When I kiss you, I don’t want there to be any reason to stop.”
“Damn.” His voice drops. “Tuesday. Be ready, Lot. I’m not playing.”
I feel the heat of that promise deep in my chest.
“I’ll be more than ready.”