The couch dipped beneath them, cushions compressed by weight and heat. Sara felt it in her back, the upholstery sticking faintly through her shirt where skin met fabric. Devin’s hand rested at her waist, fingers spread, his thumb moving in a slow, distracted rhythm like he was counting something he didn’t need to say out loud. Their mouths moved together without urgency, not rushed, but not tentative either. The room was quiet except for the low hum of the refrigerator in the next room and the distant traffic bleeding in through a window that never sealed quite right.
She was aware of small things she usually ignored. The way the lamp cast a dull yellow edge along the wall. The faint citrus smell of the cleaner she’d used earlier still hanging in the air. The soft drag of fabric when Devin shifted closer, the cushion giving again under his weight. His breathing changed slightly when she leaned in, a shallow breath that told her his body had already gone ahead of whatever words might have followed. Familiarity settled in quickly, muscle memory taking over before thought had a chance to interrupt.
She kissed him back, let it deepen, let it go where it had been going for the last few minutes. His knee pressed in between hers. She could feel his breath hitch when she leaned closer, could feel the familiar shift that came with it. The familiarity was part of the problem. It was also the reason she stayed there a second longer than she meant to, letting the moment complete itself instead of cutting it short too soon.
Sara pulled away slowly. She placed her palm flat against his chest and leaned back, creating space inch by inch until the air between them cooled. The pause felt deliberate rather than defensive, her body easing back like it was setting something down carefully instead of pushing it away.
Devin stilled immediately, hands stopping where they were, eyes searching her face.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
She shook her head first, then nodded, the motion small and almost embarrassed. A smile tugged at her mouth. “Yeah, sorry. I’m just… it’s been a while, you know?”
Devin cleared his throat and leaned back against the couch, giving her the room she asked for without a show. He nodded once. “Yeah, of course. I got you.” The smile he offered didn’t quite reach his eyes, but it held.
Sara pushed herself up from the couch and crossed into the kitchen. The floor was cool under her bare feet. She opened a cabinet and took down a cup, filled it at the sink, and drank half of it in one pull, water cold enough to sting her throat. She stood there a second longer, fingers wrapped around the cup, listening to the pipes knock once as the pressure settled, letting the sound of running water fade back into the apartment’s quiet.
“Want something to drink?” she asked over her shoulder.
“Nah, I’m good. Thanks,” Devin said from the living room.
She shut off the tap and walked back, the cup sweating in her hand. When she sat down again, she left a little more space between them than before. She took another sip, eyes drifting around the room like she was still getting used to the sight of it.
“Your son’s really got you set up, huh?” Devin said.
Sara glanced around again, then down at the water in her cup. “I’m still not used to it.”
He shrugged, arm stretching along the back of the couch but stopping short of her shoulder. “That’s how my folks were when I started in real estate. We went from living in Little Woods to living in Lakeshore.”
She turned her head to look at him. “That might be the first time you’ve mentioned your family to me.”
Devin blinked, then smiled to himself, thoughtful. “Huh. Guess I never noticed.” He leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees now. “I don’t talk about my folks a lot. They’re just there.”
“That sounds so crazy,” Sara said, shaking her head. “Family’s so important to me.”
“Yeah, no doubt,” he said, nodding along with her words.
The quiet settled again, present. Sara took another sip of water and rested the cup against her thigh, fingers tracing the rim absentmindedly. She could feel the weight of the couch beneath her, the steady breathing beside her, the way the moment had shifted without breaking.
Devin gestured over his shoulder toward the kitchen, thumb hooking back casually. “You got some of them pupusas in there?”
“In there,” Sara said, pointing toward the refrigerator.
He stood, stretching his arms once before walking into the kitchen. Sara watched him go, took another sip of her water, and let the apartment hold the silence as it was.
~~~
Caine lay back against the rough bark of the oak, one knee bent, the other stretched out into the shade where the grass stayed stubbornly green despite the heat. The shed sat a few yards off, its door crooked on one hinge, broom leaned just inside where he’d left it. Cicadas buzzed hard and constant, the sound settling into his bones. He had his phone in his hand but wasn’t looking at it, eyes tracking the slow drift of clouds.
The church door opened behind him. He didn’t turn right away.
Laney crossed the grass in a straight line, dress moving around her knees, sandals quiet against the dirt. She stopped in front of him and held her hand out, palm down, fingers loose.
“C’mon,” she said. “I need your help with somethin’.”
He took her hand and let her pull him up. The contact lingered a second longer than it needed to, fingers brushing when she let go, the heat of her skin sticking to him even after she’d turned away. He followed her toward the lot.
She stopped at the van and tipped her chin at the passenger door. He climbed in and shut it behind him, the interior smelling faintly of sun-warmed vinyl and laundry soap. She slid into the driver’s seat, purse dropped between her feet, keys already in hand.
As she pulled out of the parking lot, he glanced over at her. “What you need help with?”
She flicked her eyes toward him, mouth twitching. “Gettin’ some meat from the butcher for the old folks’ home.”
He snorted before he could stop himself. “You need my help for that?”
She cut the wheel and gave him a look, sarcasm laid on thick. “Here I was thinkin’ you’d want to spend some time with me.”
He lifted his hands in surrender, a smile breaking through. “You right. You right.”
The drive was short, heat shimmering off the asphalt, the butcher shop already in view before the radio could finish a song. She parked and cut the engine. Caine reached for the door handle.
“Hold on,” she said.
He paused. She leaned over the console and kissed him, quick and sure. Pulled back just enough to smile at him, then leaned in again, slower this time, mouth warm, familiar. When she finally pulled away, she stayed close a second longer, eyes bright.
“Behave,” she said, swatting his arm when he grinned.
“Seems like you trying to get some meat in here too,” he said.
She rolled her eyes and opened her door. “Lord Jesus.”
Outside, the heat hit hard. Caine made a point of letting her walk ahead of him across the lot, a respectable distance kept. Inside, the bell over the door rang tired and thin. Mr. Hartfield looked up from behind the counter and broke into a wide smile.
“Laney,” he said. “Come to finally make an honest man outta my boy?”
She smiled right back. “He had his chance. I keep tellin’ you that.”
Hartfield laughed and shifted his attention to Caine. “And you brought the superstar quarterback here with you?”
“He helps us at the church,” Laney said easily.
“I knew you was a good kid,” Hartfield said, pointing at Caine. “Saw one of them interviews last season. Could be out drinkin’ and everything, but helpin’ out at the Lord’s house instead.”
Caine nodded, glancing sideways at Laney, amused. “Yeah. Doing what I can.”
Hartfield gestured toward the back. “Come on. I got them boxes packed up.”
Caine followed him through the swinging door, cold air biting his skin, the smell of raw meat and cleaner thick in his nose. He hefted the boxes without comment, steady and quiet about it, and carried them out the back.
Out front, Laney flipped through an old magazine, the pages soft from too many hands. The bell rang again. Her shoulders tightened before she even looked.
Mrs. Wilcox stood just inside the door, purse tucked tight under her arm, expression polite and sharp all at once.
“Laney,” she said.
Laney lowered the magazine and met her gaze. “Mrs. Wilcox.”
They stood like that a beat too long. Laney’s eyes flicked once toward the back door, then returned. Hartfield came through with an empty look on his face, wiping his hands.
“Got everything loaded up in your van,” he said, that smile he always had for Laney settling in.
“Thank you,” Laney said, smile snapping back into place. “Have a good one.”
She brushed past Mrs. Wilcox without waiting for a reply and pushed out into the heat. The parking lot shimmered. She scanned it once, quick. Caine wasn’t there.
Her hand went to her purse as she reached the van, phone already coming out. She opened the driver’s door and nearly jumped out of her skin.
“Fuck, Caine,” she said, hand pressed to her chest.
He was sitting in the passenger seat, relaxed, one arm draped along the door. He jerked his thumb toward the shop. “Saw Hannah’s mama from across the lot. Figured I’d just duck off.”
“You think she saw you?” Laney asked.
He laughed. “Fuck no. White people don’t pay attention to their surroundings. That’s why y’all always getting robbed.”
She shook her head as she slid into the seat and shoved the keys into the ignition. “That’s some criminal shit to say.”
He shrugged. “You ain’t wrong.”
She backed out of the space and aimed them toward the road, the butcher shop shrinking in the mirror as she headed for the nursing home.
~~~
The levee sloped down toward the river in a long, uneven line of packed dirt and concrete, worn smooth where people had sat for years doing exactly this. Saul sat with his heels dug in, knees up, a flat rock turning over and over between his fingers. The Mississippi moved slow but heavy in front of them, brown water sliding past. A barge pushed upstream, engine low and steady, stacked containers rising, a wall against the sky. Its wake slapped against the concrete below them, the sound dull and rhythmic, water chewing at the edge of the city.
The air smelled faintly of river mud and diesel. Somewhere upriver a horn sounded, long and hollow, echoing off metal and concrete before fading back into traffic noise and wind.
Trent sat to Saul’s left, long legs stretched out, sneakers dusty at the toes. He kept rocking his heel, grinding grit into the sole. Javi was on the other side, leaned back on his palms, flicking rocks one-handed into the water. Each splash sounded different depending on the angle. Sharp cracks when they skipped. Soft gulps when they sank. Saul noticed that without meaning to, his brain grabbing onto it the way it always did when he didn’t want to think too hard about something else.
He threw his rock hard. It skipped once, twice, then disappeared.
“I need to figure out how to get some money fast,” Saul said. The words came out blunt, no warm-up. “Every time Ava tells me how much something costs, it makes me want to throw up.”
The river kept moving. The barge crept forward, slow and patient. A gull cut across the air above them and disappeared toward the bridge, wings beating unevenly against the wind.
Trent turned his head a little, eyes still on the barge. “I thought you went on jobs with your dad?”
Saul shrugged, shoulders lifting and falling. “I do, but it ain’t consistent.” He picked up another rock, heavier this time, weighing it in his palm. “Some weeks it’s a couple days. Some weeks it’s nothing. Shit be drying up.”
Javi snorted. “You should’ve told her to get her ass a Spirit ticket to Chicago and given her six hundred. Be done with it.”
Saul’s head snapped toward him. “Fuck you, man. I ain’t paying to kill my kid.”
Javi held his hands up like he was joking, like it wasn’t that serious. “I’m just saying—”
“Motherfucker seen that shit on TikTok now he thinks he knows what he’s talking about,” Trent cut in, not even looking at Javi when he said it.
Javi rolled his eyes and sat up, brushing his palms on his jeans. “Real talk, though. How you even know it’s yours? You don’t know what she’s up there doing.”
Saul’s jaw tightened. His teeth pressed together hard enough that it made his temples throb. He didn’t throw the rock yet. He stared out at the water, at the long wake trailing behind the barge, watching it stretch and break and flatten back into nothing. He forced himself to breathe through his nose, slow, until the heat in his chest settled just enough.
“Everyone’s not a piece of shit, bro,” he said. His voice stayed low, but there was an edge under it. “That’s not even what we’re talking about. I’m trying to figure out how to get some fucking money.”
He threw the rock straight down. It vanished with a dull plunk.
Trent shifted his weight, palms pressing into the concrete behind him. “How’d your cousin manage it?”
Saul laughed once, sharp and humorless. “By picking up a gun and going carjack people.”
Javi’s eyes lit up. “We could get a scanner and go steal some Chargers for sure.”
Trent didn’t hesitate. He leaned over and smacked Javi in the back of the head, open palm, hard enough to make his cap tilt forward. “Shut the fuck up, man.”
Javi cursed and rubbed the back of his head, glaring. “Damn.”
“He got arrested too, dumb ass,” Saul added. He grabbed another rock, smaller, chipped at the edge, rolling it between his fingers until it cut slightly into his skin. “You think that shit worked out?”
Javi shrugged, still defensive. “So, you know what not to do. And isn’t he in Georgia playing football? Sounds like it worked out to me.”
Trent exhaled through his nose and shook his head, tired already. The barge had passed now, leaving the water churning and loud for a few seconds before it smoothed back out, surface settling into its old lazy roll.
“We’ll help you out, man,” Trent said, tone shifting, grounding again. “Shit’ll be easier to figure out in May when we graduate.”
Saul nodded. He didn’t look at either of them this time. He just watched the river, the way it kept moving no matter what was sitting heavy in his chest.
“Thanks,” he said.
He threw another rock into the water and listened to it disappear.
~~~
It was one of those nights where time stretched thin. No rush. No crowd noise bleeding through the walls. Just the hum of the building and the low murmur of music coming from the floor, distant enough that it felt like a memory instead of something happening now. The dressing room lights stayed bright and unflattering, throwing everything into the open. Glitter clung to the counters. Makeup bags sat unzipped. Lingerie draped over chair and hooks left forgotten.The small table in the center barely fit the game, cards spread unevenly, a couple of bent corners marking which deck had been played too long. Mireya leaned back on an old couch with her legs stretched across Jaslene’s lap, ankle hooked loose against Jaslene’s hip. Jaslene’s fingers traced slow, lazy lines along the inside of Mireya’s thigh, absentminded and familiar.
Alejandra sat across from them, elbows on the table, cards fanned in her hands. Bianca was next to her, shoulder pressed close enough that they bumped whenever one of them laughed. Hayley sat opposite Mireya, legs tucked under her chair, eyes sharp even when she was pretending not to pay attention. Liana leaned back with her chair tipped on two legs, balancing without effort, cards resting against her stomach.
Hayley glanced up and caught Alejandra and Bianca trading cards under the table. She sucked her teeth loud enough to cut through the quiet. “Look at these bitches fucking cheating.”
Bianca didn’t even look up. She waved her hand in a lazy shooing motion. “Girl, mind ya business.”
Alejandra laughed, tossing a card onto the table. “If you’re not cheating, you’re not trying, chica.”
Liana’s chair came back down with a soft thud. She looked at Mireya. “How’s the first week of classes been?”
Mireya rolled her head back against sofa cushions, eyes half closed. “The usual. Fucking boring.”
Jaslene hummed, fingers pressing a little more firmly into Mireya’s thigh. “Boring except for the blanquito, eh?”
Alejandra leaned forward, grin sharp. “¿Sigues metiéndote con él, Mexicana?”
Mireya rolled her eyes without sitting up. “He asked me to meet his brothers and sister.”
That conversation still sat heavy in her chest days later, equal parts frightening and exhilarating. The thought that anyone would want her to meet their family pushing against the ideas she’d been developing about herself. Ideas about the fact she spent most of her time in rooms like this.
Hayley clapped twice, fast and bright. “Oh my god, that’s so sweet.”
Bianca snorted. “If they got money, I say do it and rob they asses. Especially if they ain’t from here.”
Alejandra laughed and slapped Bianca’s hand, the sound crisp. Mireya shifted slightly in Jaslene’s lap, Jaslene’s fingers adjusting automatically to follow the movement.
“I ain’t even gonna do it,” Mireya said, tone honest. “Those people don’t want me around them.”
As had been the case since Jordan had asked, as soon as the thought had buoyed her, Trell’s words crept into her mind. No one would want to introduce a stripper to their family except someone else doing dirt.
Jaslene’s hand paused. She looked down at Mireya, then back up. “Why not? You got nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Facts,” Liana said. “I met my boyfriend’s parents.”
Hayley nodded eagerly. “I’d do it.”
The door opened and Stasia stepped inside, heels clicking once against the floor before she stopped. Stasia scanned the space, quick and practiced, then motioned for the girl behind her to step in.
The dancers looked up together.
The girl hesitated in the doorway, eyes wide, posture stiff. Mireya clocked it immediately. The frozen half smile. The way her hands hovered like she didn’t know what to do with them. It pulled something old and familiar up in her chest. She remembered her first night in a room just like this, the way the walls had felt too close and too exposed all at once. How Jaslene had taken her under her wing.
Stasia guided the girl forward. “This is Sydney,” she said. “She’s thinking about working with us. Do you all mind showing her the ropes?”
Alejandra smiled, turning her head toward Jaslene. “Espero que no termine como la última nueva que contratamos, ¿eh, Jas?”
Jaslene laughed and slapped Mireya’s thigh hard enough to sting. “No te preocupes. No puedo engañar a mi Luna.”
“Fucking hell,” Mireya hissed, knee jerking.
Jaslene grinned, rubbing where she’d slapped. “Lo siento, bebe. Te daré un beso y te lo curaré más tarde.”
Mireya rolled her eyes, but she didn’t move her legs.
Hayley patted the cushion beside her. “Come sit,” she said to Sydney.
Sydney edged around Bianca and Alejandra, careful not to bump anyone, and sat down next to Hayley. Stasia watched it happen, satisfied.
“I’ll be back to check on you later,” Stasia said to Sydney, then turned and left, the door closing softly behind her.
Hayley leaned over and elbowed Sydney gently. “Don’t look so nervous. We’re all friends here.”
Sydney smiled, small and uncertain. “It’s not that. Just gotta get used to everyone just hanging out half naked I guess.”
For a beat, nobody said anything. Then they all looked at each other and laughed.
