Mireya lay on the pool lounger with her sunglasses on and her thumb at the side of her mouth, the nail resting against her bottom lip. Sunlight fell straight over the house, too high for the umbrella two loungers down to throw shade anywhere near her. Heat pressed into the concrete around the pool and rose back up in waves that bent the air just above the deck.
Alejandra sat on the edge of the pool with her feet in the water, ankles crossing and uncrossing, the surface breaking around her calves in slow ripples. Liana sat next to her with her knees pulled up, phone balanced on top of them, scrolling with one finger. Hayley and Bianca shared a lounger on the other side of the deck, Bianca sitting behind Hayley with a comb and a handful of hair, working a braid from the crown down. Hayley's head tipped forward each time Bianca pulled a new section. Mari sat under the umbrella with her legs crossed and her hands folded in her lap. Jaslene lay on the lounger next to Mireya, close enough that their arms touched from shoulder to elbow, her skin warm where it pressed against Mireya's.
Hayley looked around the backyard and shook her head. The pool, the fence, the back of the house rising two stories behind them with its windows catching the sun. "I still can't believe your baby daddy got you a whole house with a pool and you're acting like it ain't shit."
Mireya kept her thumb at her mouth. "It ain't mine. It's his mama's. She moved to the other one."
Bianca's fingers kept working. She pulled strands tight and the braid climbed neat and even along the back of Hayley's head. "Girl, you living in it. That makes it yours until somebody tells you different."
Alejandra kicked water, the splash arcing out and breaking across the surface. "Mexicana been out here living better than all of us for years and still showing up to work every night. That's dedication."
Liana moved her feet out of the splash and tucked them under her. "That's stubbornness."
Jaslene snorted a laugh beside Mireya, her shoulder shifting against Mireya's arm.
Mireya pulled her phone out from under her thigh and held it above her face. She opened her messages, scrolled past threads she didn't open, and started a new text to Sena. Her thumbs moved.
Hey. Can we talk?
She stared at the screen for a moment, the cursor blinking after the question mark. Then she hit send and set the phone face up on her stomach, the screen dimming against her skin.
Alejandra looked back over her shoulder at Mireya, tilting her head so the water dripped off her ear. "¿Qué te pasa? You been quiet, Mexicana."
Mireya pushed her sunglasses up onto the top of her head. The light hit her full and she squinted for a second before her eyes adjusted. She looked at Jaslene. Jaslene held her eyes, silent.
Mireya sat up on the lounger and swung her legs over the side so she faced them. Her feet hit the warm concrete. She put her palms flat on the cushion on either side of her thighs and looked across the pool deck.
"I'm pregnant."
Bianca's hands stopped in Hayley's hair. The braid hung loose where she'd been pulling the next section, the strands separating between her fingers.
Alejandra's feet went still in the water.
Hayley turned her head, the unfinished braid swinging against her neck. "Bitch, what?"
"About sixteen weeks," Mireya said.
Alejandra pulled one leg out of the pool and turned her whole body on the edge. "¿Y no nos dijiste nada?" Her voice pitched up on the last word. "You've been out here working on the pole pregnant, Mexicana?"
Mireya shrugged, one shoulder lifting and dropping. "I didn't know what I was doing about it."
Liana leaned forward, her phone forgotten against her knee. "Who's the daddy?"
"Caine," Mireya said.
Bianca finished tying off the braid she'd been working on, her fingers moving through the final loop and pulling the elastic tight. "At least it's for the nigga with the money and not some random off the floor." She smoothed the tail of the braid against the back of Hayley's neck and sat back. "And that's why he put you in this big ass house."
"He knows?" Hayley asked.
Mireya nodded.
"And he’s good with it?"
"Yeah."
Bianca looked over at Jaslene, a grin spreading across her face, slow and wide. "Jas, how you let somebody knock up your girl?"
Jaslene sucked her teeth. "Cállate."
Alejandra laughed and pulled herself the rest of the way out of the water. She stood and walked over to Mireya, her feet leaving wet prints on the concrete. She stopped in front of her and looked her up and down, tilting her head one way, then the other, her eyes moving from Mireya's face to her stomach and back up.
"You ain't really showing yet," Alejandra said. She put her hands on her hips. "But you need to start using that shit. I knew a girl in Houston who was charging triple when she was showing. Had dudes on a waitlist, Mexicana." She held the word. "A waitlist."
Liana shook her head from the pool edge.
Hayley's mouth opened and closed. "That's insane."
Alejandra held her hands up, palms out, water still dripping from her wrists. "I'm just being a good business advisor. Feria is feria."
Jaslene's voice came flat from the lounger. "O podría dejarlo."
Mireya reached over and found Jaslene's hand on the cushion between them. She squeezed it. Jaslene's fingers closed around hers and squeezed back, her thumb pressing once against the side of Mireya's palm.
"Not right now," Mireya said.
Jaslene held on but kept her mouth shut. Her thumb stayed where it was, resting against the bone of Mireya's wrist.
Mari, who hadn't said anything since they'd all sat down, shifted under the umbrella. Her hands were still folded in her lap, her posture straight, her eyes steady. "She's right, though."
Mireya looked over at her.
Mari held her gaze. The shade from the umbrella cut a line across her collarbone. "You know why I'm saying it."
"I know," Mireya said. "And I already told you I can't."
Mari leaned back in her chair, her fingers lacing tighter together, and looked out past the pool toward the back fence.
Mireya's phone buzzed against her stomach. She picked it up and tilted the screen toward her face, shading it with her hand. Sena's name sat at the top of the thread. One word underneath the text she'd sent.
Ok.
Mireya stared at it and her jaw tightened, the muscle pulling along the side of her face. She locked the screen and set the phone face down on the lounger beside her thigh.
Alejandra clapped her hands once, the sound cracking over the deck. "Alright, so are we celebrating or what? Somebody get the pregnant bitch some water and pour me another drink."
Hayley tucked one leg under herself and leaned forward. "We should do something for her. Like a dinner."
"I'm down as long as Ale ain't cooking," Bianca said.
"My food is fine," Alejandra said.
Liana set her phone on the concrete beside her and crossed her arms. "Last time you cooked, we all had the shits for two days."
"That was the shrimp," Alejandra said, pointing at Liana. "Not me."
Mireya lay back on the lounger and pulled her sunglasses down over her eyes.
~~~
Sena lay on her back with her legs bent, the sheet twisted at her calves, her chest rising and falling in long pulls. The low sound of buzzing filled the room, steady, mechanical. Her eyes were locked onto the ceiling above her.
She took a deep breath and held it. Her shoulders came up off the pillow, her eyes squeezing shut, her jaw locking. The breath sat heavy in her lungs for three seconds, four, before she let it go in a hard push through her mouth. Her chest dropped. She took a few labored breaths after it, each one catching at the top before it released.
The buzzing stopped. Nothing filled the space now except the sound of Cassidy moving around in the living room on the other side of the wall, cabinet doors opening and closing, the faucet running for a second and cutting off. Sena stared at the ceiling and let the sounds wash past her without following them.
She closed her eyes. Opened them. Then she reached down and tossed the vibrator toward the edge of the bed where it landed on the comforter with a dull thud. She sat up, swung her legs over the side and stood.
~~~
The blinds were angled so the light came through in thin bars that striped the carpet and the arm of the couch where Sena sat.
Celia sat across from her with her legs crossed at the ankle, legal pad balanced on her knee, pen resting against the spiral binding.
"You haven't been as forthcoming today as you normally are," Celia said. "Is there something bothering you?"
Sena shrugged, her shoulders lifting and dropping against the back of the couch. "There's a lot bothering me. That's why I come here in the first place."
Celia smiled. "Well, I won't argue with you there. It just seems as though there is something specific today." She tilted her head a fraction. "Would you like to talk about it?"
Sena's fingers picked at the seam of the couch cushion beside her thigh. She pulled at a thread, rolled it between her thumb and forefinger, then let it go.
"Mireya kissed me the other day."
"Oh. How'd that happen?"
"She lives in a new house. One Camila's father bought." Sena looked at the window, the parking lot striped through the blinds. "I was there, babysitting. She came home from work, said she was going swim, got naked."
"To swim?" Celia asked.
Sena nodded. "That's pretty much how she comes home from work."
"And you said she cleans buildings?"
"Yeah."
"Sorry. Go on."
Sena's hand went back to the seam of the cushion. "Anyway, I got into the pool, too. She swam over, told me I could look at her and then kissed me."
"How did that make you feel?"
"I kissed her back, but then I stopped."
Celia uncrossed her ankles and crossed them the other direction. "Why did you stop?"
"You know why I stopped."
Celia held her gaze. "I'd like to hear you say it."
Sena pulled her legs up onto the couch and wrapped her arms around her knees. Her chin rested on top of them, her body drawn into itself, the posture making her smaller against the cushions. "Because it felt like Alex."
Celia nodded once. "Tell me what specifically felt the same."
"The whole thing." Sena's voice flattened out. "She told me she was straight. To my face. Then she's getting naked in front of me, staring at me while she's on a stripper pole, pulling me into the pool and kissing me. That's what Alex used to do. Run hot, get me hooked, then act like I was the one who made it weird."
Celia wrote something on the pad then set the pen back against the binding. "You're describing a pattern. But I want to ask you something separate from that." She let a beat pass. "Do you have feelings for Mireya?"
Sena's jaw tightened. She turned her head toward the window, her eyes finding the parking lot through the blinds, the heat shimmer rising off the asphalt outside.
"Yeah, I do." Her voice dropped. "That's the problem. I want her. I think about her all the fucking time. When she texts me, when I'm babysitting Camila, when I'm in my bed at night."
"Is that what was happening before you came here today?"
Sena kept looking out the window. The clock filled the space between them for five ticks, six.
"It's okay, Sena," Celia said. "There's nothing wrong with that."
"I know there's nothing wrong with wanting someone." Sena's arms tightened around her knees. "What's wrong is wanting someone who's going to use you to figure out their shit and then throw you away when they decide they're not about it."
Celia set the legal pad on the small table beside her chair and folded her hands in her lap. "We've talked a lot about what Alex did to you. The things she said. The way she came back after and you let her. I hear you drawing that line between then and now." She paused, her fingers lacing together. "But I want you to sit with something for a moment. Has Mireya actually done anything that Alex did? Beyond being a woman you're attracted to who you're not sure about?"
"She's pregnant." Sena's head turned back from the window, her eyes hard. "She tells me she's straight then kisses me in a pool naked. How is that not the same thing?"
"Because Alex called you disgusting and told you no one would ever want you." Celia's voice stayed even, the words landing without force. "Has Mireya said anything like that to you?"
Sena shook her head. Her chin pressed harder into the top of her knees.
"So, what you're afraid of isn't what Mireya has done," Celia said. "It's what she might do."
"It's what they always do." Sena's fingers dug into her own forearm where it crossed her shin. "Every straight girl who wants to play with a lesbian until she gets bored or is done experimenting."
Celia let that sit. The clock ticked. A car started in the parking lot outside, the engine turning over and catching.
"What do you want from Mireya, Sena? If you could have exactly what you wanted."
Sena stared out the window for a long time. The bars of light on the carpet had moved another inch.
"I want her to pick me." Her voice cracked on the last word and she swallowed against it. "Not as some side thing she does when she's bored or lonely. I want her to actually want me the way I want her."
"Have you told her that?"
Sena shook her head. "I slammed her door and left."
"That's not the same thing as telling her what you need."
"I know." Sena loosened her grip on her forearm. The skin where her fingers had been pressing was white, the blood rushing back in. "But every time I think about saying it out loud, I hear Alex's voice in my head telling me I'm stupid. And I can't do that again. I can't hand someone that and watch them crush it."
"I understand that." Celia leaned forward in her chair, her elbows coming to rest on her knees. "But I want you to notice something. You let Alex back in after everything she said to you. You chose the pain of having her over the pain of losing her." She held Sena's eyes. "You already know you can survive the worst version of this."
Sena dropped her head against her knees. Her hair fell forward and covered her face. "That's not comforting."
"It's not meant to be. It's meant to remind you that you're making a decision about Mireya based on what Alex did to you. Those are two different people."
"They feel the same."
"I know they do. But you know feelings aren't always accurate."
Sena kept her head on her knees. She lifted her head. Her eyes were red, the rims wet, her mouth pulled tight. "So what, I just tell her I'm scared and hope she doesn't destroy me?"
"You tell her what you're afraid of. Not what you want from her. What you're afraid of." Celia straightened in her chair. "And then you let her respond to that. Then you'll have something real to work with instead of a projection."
"And if she says the same shit Alex said?"
"Then you'll know." Celia held her gaze steady. "And you won't have to sit in your room wondering anymore."
Sena stared at her for a moment, the red still sitting in her eyes, her jaw working once before it stilled. Then she turned and looked back out the window.
~~~
Caine walked through the tunnel at the Coliseum with Coach Riley beside him, their cleats and shoes echoing off the concrete. The noise of the crowd filtered down toward them, muffled by the walls, reduced to a low hum that vibrated in the floor. The tunnel smelled like old concrete. paint and something metallic that had been baked into the walls by decades of sun.
Riley walked with his clipboard in his hand, his polo tucked clean, his stride unhurried. He didn't look at Caine when he spoke. "This is as close to a real environment as you're going to get before August. Use it. I want to see you command that huddle from the first snap like you've been here four years."
Caine nodded.
Riley turned a page on his clipboard, glanced at it, and flipped it back. "A couple things. When you get into those empty sets, I want to see you manipulate the safeties with your eyes before you throw. Don't just read your progressions, move people." He looked over at Caine. "That's what separates you from the other guys we've had here."
"Yes sir."
"And don't be a hero. You take what the defense gives you. You don't need to impress anybody out there." Riley's voice stayed even. "The job is yours, just remind us why we went down to Georgia to make it happen."
"I hear you, Coach."
Riley stopped walking. They'd reached the mouth of the tunnel, the sunlight cutting a hard line across the turf ahead of them, the green so bright it looked painted. The noise from the stands sharpened, voices separating from the general hum into distinct pockets of sound.
Riley put his hand on Caine's shoulder pad, his grip firm, his eyes holding Caine's for a beat. "One more thing. Have some fun out there. This is the Coliseum. Enjoy it."
"That ain't gonna be a problem."
Riley nodded once, released his shoulder, and walked off toward the coaching staff gathering on the sideline. Caine watched him go for a second, then stepped out of the tunnel onto the field.
He looked up at the stands. A modest crowd filled the stadium, families with kids in USC gear, recruits sitting in clusters with their hosts, media scattered through the press box and along the sideline with cameras and phones.
He pulled his helmet on and jogged toward the sideline.
…
Caine walked to the line.. Cam and Derron split wide to the right, Dean in the slot between them. Xavier on the opposite side of the field, Zay in the backfield. The defense shifted before the ball was set, Mike pointing across the front seven, walking the Nick linebacker down toward the line and barking adjustments.
Caine read the look. Single high safety, cover three shell with the Nick showing blitz. He stepped forward and pointed at Mike.
"Lee! Lee!"
The Nick backed off. Malachi over Cam loosened his cushion. Caine settled back into his stance.
"Three, three. Go hit!"
Willi snapped the ball clean. Caine caught it, his fingers finding the laces as he dropped back one step, two, three. His eyes went to Xavier first, running the curl on the near side. Angel sat right in the window. He came off it. Cam broke inside on the dig across the middle, two steps ahead of Malachiwho had given him too much room at the snap. Caine planted his back foot and put it on him in stride, the ball arriving chest high as Cam turned upfield.
Cam caught it and got twelve more before Rashaun came off his angle and pushed him out of bounds at the new line of scrimmage. Twenty yards. Cam pointed back at Caine as he jogged toward the huddle.
…
Caine stood in the shotgun, empty set. Five receivers spread across the formation, no back beside him. The defense showed two high safeties and a four man rush.
"Two, two, go! Hit"
He took the snap and the pocket collapsed from the right side. Kona got walked back into his lap, Alonzo dipping under his outside hand and closing fast. Caine slid left, keeping his feet under him, his eyes staying downfield. Derron sat down in a zone hole between Mike and George, fifteen yards out, his hands already up.
Caine flicked the ball to him sidearm, the release coming from below his hip. The ball covered the distance on a line and hit Derron in the chest. First down.
Derron held the ball up with one hand before tossing it to a manager standing near the sideline.
…
First and goal from the eight. Caine took the snap from under center and opened to his left, holding the ball out to Zay. The running back hit the mesh point and Caine pulled the ball back into his stomach, watching the linebackers bite hard toward the line of scrimmage.
He rolled to his right, the cleats digging into the turf as he got outside the tackle. Xavier ran a fade to the back corner of the endzone, Walter trailing him by half a step, his hips turned the wrong direction. Caine set his feet and lofted it over the corner's outside shoulder, the ball hanging with enough touch to clear the defender and drop into the back of the endzone.
Xavier went up and pulled it down with one hand, his left arm extended above Walter’s reach, his right foot dragging the turf and his left foot coming down inside the pylon. Both feet in.
Caine pointed at him as the offense mobbed Xavier in the endzone.
…
Caine stood in the gun at his own thirty-five. The defense packed the box, daring him to throw underneath.
He took the snap and went through his reads. Cam ran a comeback on the boundary and the corner was all over it. Derron's route hadn't developed yet. Xavier had a safety sitting on top of him in the middle of the field. Nothing was there.
Caine tucked the ball against his forearm and took off up the middle. He hit the gap between the two linebackers before either of them could close, his shoulders turning sideways to split the space. Rachaad broke down in front of him at the fifty. Caine planted his right foot and slid to the turf, giving himself up at his own forty-nine.
Cam ran over from his side of the field and smacked the top of Caine's helmet with his open palm. "That's my fucking quarterback."
…
Caine took the snap and his eyes went left first, moving the safety. Alonzo came off the edge unblocked, the corner blitz arriving a half second ahead of the pocket collapsing.
Caine stepped up between the guards, feeling the rush close behind him. He planted his back foot and threw the deep ball down the right sideline, his arm coming through clean, the ball climbing on a tight spiral.
Derron had a step on his man at the twenty-five. He tracked the ball over his right shoulder, adjusting his angle without breaking stride. The ball dropped into his hands at the five. Rashaun reached for his hip and got nothing. Derron walked into the endzone untouched.
Caine held his arms out at his sides as he walked down the field.
…
Caine stood on the field with his helmet off and a towel around his neck. Sweat had dried on his forehead and left a salt line along his hairline. A half circle of reporters stood in front of him, recorders held out, phones angled toward his face, a cameraman off to the side with the lens trained on him.
"Caine, how does it feel to get out here in the Coliseum for the first time after coming from a Sun Belt program at Georgia Southern?"
Caine looked at the reporter who'd asked it, a man with a press badge clipped to his belt and a notebook open in his hand. "It's the same game. The field the same size, the ball the same size. The only difference is the stadium and the caliber of the guys around me." He shifted the towel on his neck. "But I been playing against good competition my whole life. Ain't nothing changed for me."
Another reporter stepped forward, a woman with a recorder in her hand. "You seemed really comfortable with the playbook already. How much time have you spent with Coach Huard this offseason?"
"A lot. Coach Huard been on me since I got here. The playbook is thick but the concepts ain't too far off from what I was running in Statesboro. It's just more tools in the toolbox."
A man near the back of the group cleared his throat. He had his phone held low, reading from a note on his screen. "Caine, I want to ask you about a photo that was circulating on social media this past week. You were pictured with some individuals who are known to be affiliated with the Tree Top Piru gang in Compton. As someone who's the face of this program, do you have any concerns about those associations?"
The other reporters shifted. A couple of heads turned toward the man who'd asked it. The cameraman adjusted his angle.
Caine stared at the reporter. His hands stayed at the ends of the towel. He let the silence sit for three seconds before he spoke.
"No, I ain't got no concerns." His voice was level. "But anybody asks the other quarterbacks in this conference about their affiliations when they're taking pictures with Klansmen at their lake houses? Politicians on some neo-Nazi stuff? Notre Dame in Indiana. Let me know when y'all ask they quarterback about who he in pictures with." He pointed at the reporter with one pinky, his arm low. "I'm a Black Latino from the Lower Ninth Ward in New Orleans. I been around hood dudes my entire life. Now, I'm supposed to act like it's a problem? Nah."
The reporter opened his mouth to follow up. Caine kept going.
"This who I am. It's who I was when I was in high school. It's who I was in Georgia. It's who I'm gonna be." He let the words land. "By the way, y'all know USC in South Los Angeles, right? You ain't gotta go far to find no Crips or Bloods. If Cam and Rachaad had been in that picture without me, nobody would've asked about it because they ain't the quarterback." His eyes moved across the group. He measured each face. "But I ain't gonna apologize for being the first USC quarterback that ain't some surfer from Orange County."
The group was still. A few of the reporters looked at each other. The woman with the recorder lowered it a fraction, then raised it back up.
Another reporter stepped in, his voice pitched to break the tension. "Caine, looking ahead to the fall schedule, what's the expectation for this team?"
"We gonna be ready and we gonna win." Caine's voice came flat and final. "Ain't nothing less acceptable at USC."
He pulled the towel off his neck and walked off the field toward the tunnel.
~~~
Autumn lay on her back in Nasir's bed with one arm behind her head and the other resting on her stomach. The sheets had bunched at her waist and her legs stretched past them, bare against the mattress. Sunlight came through the blinds, laying a thin stripe across her collarbone and the pillow beside her.
Nasir was next to her, propped up on his elbow. His fingers traced lazy circles on her hip, his thumb following the line where her skin met the waistband of her underwear. His breathing had settled back to normal. Hers had been normal for a while.
She stared at the ceiling for a moment. His dresser had a pair of sneakers on top of it and nothing else. The closet door hung open and she could see three hangers with nothing on them and a pile of clothes on the floor underneath. A glass of water on the nightstand had been there long enough for the condensation to pool on the wood.
She sat up and Nasir's hand dropped from her hip. She swung her legs off the side of the bed and leaned down, her fingers finding her shirt on the carpet where it had landed inside out. She turned it right and pulled it over her head, her hair catching for a second before she worked it free. She stood, stepping into her jeans and working them up over her hips. The denim was warm from sitting in the stripe of sun on the floor. She buttoned them and reached for her bra, threading it through the neck of her shirt and clasping it behind her back without taking the shirt off.
Nasir watched her from the bed, the sheet pulled to his chest now, one hand behind his head. "You leaving already?"
"Yeah." She smoothed the front of her shirt with one hand and checked the hem where it met her jeans. "I got some things to take care of."
She sat on the edge of the bed and leaned down for her shoes. She slid her feet into them one at a time, pushing her heel in with her finger.
Nasir sat up behind her, the headboard creaking against the wall. "Alright. Just hit me up whenever you want to come through again."
Autumn finished with her shoes and turned to look at him over her shoulder. "That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about." She turned her body the rest of the way so she faced him. "You cut, nigga. Putting you off the roster."
Nasir's eyebrows pulled together. "What you mean?"
"It's just the last time."
"What I do?"
Autumn shook her head. "You ain't do nothing. It's just run its course."
Nasir sat up more, the sheet falling to his waist, his back straightening against the headboard. His hand rubbed across his chest once. "You can't just cut a nigga off with no explanation. We been doing this for months."
"And now we're not." Autumn stood from the bed and crossed to the chair by the door. She picked up her phone from the nightstand and checked the screen, her thumb clearing two notifications before she dropped it into the purse.
"At least tell me what changed," Nasir said.
"Nothing changed." She slung the purse over her shoulder and turned back to him. "It's just time."
Nasir shook his head against the headboard, his jaw working. "That don't make no sense. You said I was the best you ever had."
Autumn snorted a laugh, her head tipping back a fraction before she leveled her eyes at him. "I said you were my best eater right now. Don't upgrade yourself."
Nasir held his hands up from the sheets, palms open. "Okay, so if I am, why would you cut that off?"
She looked at him and adjusted the strap of her purse on her shoulder.
"Because I can find another one by the end of the day." She let that land. "It's been fun, Nasir."
He dropped back against the headboard, his head hitting the wood with a soft thud. His hands fell open on the mattress beside him. "That's cold."
"You're going to be alright." She turned and walked out of his bedroom, her shoes hitting the hardwood in the hallway.
"You gonna regret this shit," he called after her from the bed.
Autumn pulled his front door open, the sunlight from outside flooding the entry and warming the side of her face. She stepped through it.
"Nigga, please."
She closed the door behind her and walked to her car.
~~~
Mireya straddled the man with her hands on his shoulders, her knees pressing into the cushion on either side of his thighs. The VIP room was small, carpeted, lit by a strip of LED running the perimeter of the ceiling that turned everything a low amber. A half-finished drink sat on the side table beside them, the ice melting down into the brown. Bass from the main floor came through the walls in a steady pulse that she matched with her hips, rolling them in slow circles, her weight shifting from one knee to the other with each rotation. Sweat had started at the small of her back and along her hairline. The oil on her skin caught the light each time she leaned forward.
The man's hands sat on her thighs. His thumbs pressed into the muscle there, working in small circles of their own that followed her movement. He watched her body, his eyes tracing down from her face to her chest to her stomach, the path unhurried, repeating itself each time she rolled forward. His ring finger caught the light when his hand shifted, a gold band thick enough to see from across a room.
His hand moved from her thigh to her midsection. His palm pressed flat against her lower belly. His fingers spread across the skin. The touch was different from everything else he'd done, slower, deliberate.
Her hips kept their rhythm, her spine loose, her shoulders rolling back on the return. Her eyes dropped to his hand on her stomach and stayed there for a beat before she brought them back to his face.
"You pregnant?" he asked.
She smiled, rolling her hips a little slower, letting the circle widen. "Maybe. That bother you, papi?"
He shook his head, his hand staying where it was, his thumb pressing gently against the skin below her navel. "Nah. My wife looked like that early on. You carrying it low. Not really showing yet."
Mireya put her hand over his on her belly, her fingers lacing between his, holding him there. "Your wife's a lucky woman."
He laughed, the sound sitting low in his chest. His eyes were still on his own hand under hers. The wedding band pressed cold against Mireya's fingers where they laced with his. "She don't do shit like this for me no more. Not since the second kid."
Mireya leaned forward, her weight shifting onto her knees, her chest pressing closer. Her mouth came near his ear, close enough that her lips moved against the skin when she spoke. The bass changed tracks on the other side of the wall, something slower, and she adjusted her rhythm to it. "That's why you got me, baby."
His breathing changed. The rise and fall of his chest shortened, the inhales coming sharper. His thumb stroked across her stomach, slow. It traced a line from one side of her belly to the other. "I'm not trying to be weird about it," he said. "It's just, you know. There's something about it."
Mireya pulled back enough to look at his face. She ran her fingers along his jaw, her thumb settling under his chin, tilting his face up toward hers.
"Tell me what you want, baby. I'm right here."
The man shifted under her, his hips adjusting on the cushion, his hands finding her thighs again and then moving back to her stomach. "How much for the full thing? With you being pregnant and all."
Mireya kept her hand on his face, her hips still moving, the circles smaller now, tighter. Her knees pressed harder into the cushion. "Tell me what that looks like for you."
"I want to fuck you." His voice dropped. "But I want you to keep talking about it. The pregnant shit. Tell me it's mine. Let me feel on your belly while I'm hitting it." He swallowed. "That whole thing."
Mireya held his eyes. Her thumb rubbed at the corner of her own mouth, slow, her gaze steady on his face. She let the bass fill the space between them for two beats, three.
"I can do that for you, papi." Her hand dropped from her mouth back to his shoulder. "How much you got on you?"
The man reached to his left where his jacket sat bunched on the cushion beside them. He pulled his wallet from the inside pocket and opened it, his thumb working through the bills, counting them out against the leather. His hands were less steady now than they'd been at the start. "I got five hundred on me."
Mireya shook her head slowly, the smile spreading, her hand sliding from his shoulder down to his chest where she pressed once with her palm. "I'll take that, baby."
"Yeah?" His shoulders dropped, the tension leaving them. He closed the wallet and set it on top of his jacket. "Awesome."
~~~
The club hit them with bass and heat the second the doors opened. Bodies packed the floor three deep from the entrance, the light cutting blue and white across faces and shoulders in strobes that made everything move in frames. The air tasted like cologne, liquor, and the particular warmth of too many people in a room built for fewer.
Cam led the way in, Derron beside him, the two of them pushing into the crowd shoulder first. Cam held his arms out wide, his voice carrying over the music. "Dogs in the house! Let's fucking go!"
Alonzo, Angel, and Rachaad came behind them. Jade, Simone, and Brooke moved through the gaps the group opened, heels clicking against the floor between bass hits. Caine walked with Autumn at his side, her arm looped through his, her stride matching his without hurrying.
Their section was up a short set of steps roped off from the main floor. Bottles already lined the table, glass catching the strobes, condensation beading down the sides. Derron slid in first and started pouring shots before anyone had sat down, his hands moving between bottles and glasses, lining them up along the edge of the table and pushing them toward the group.
Jade sat down next to Simone on the far end of the booth. Brooke took a spot near Angel and Alonzo, her purse dropping between her feet. Rachaad leaned against the edge of the booth with one foot planted on the floor, his arm stretched along the top of the seat back.
Caine sat down and Autumn slid in next to him. Her thigh pressed against his, the fabric of her dress warm where it met his jeans. Her hand settled on his thigh, her fingers resting against the inseam.
Cam passed shots down the line, glass clinking as they exchanged hands. He held his up, the liquid catching the strobe for a second before it went dark again. "To putting belt to all these niggas in the fall."
Alonzo lifted his glass. "Especially them busted ass UCLA niggas."
They threw them back. The burn hit fast. Cam slammed his glass down on the table and hissed through his teeth. Derron set his down without a sound.
Autumn placed her glass on the table and turned it once between her fingers. "Y'all always this loud?"
Cam pointed at her with the hand still holding the empty glass. "This is calm. Wait until the season start."
Autumn shook her head. Caine picked up one of the bottles and poured her another drink, tilting the glass at an angle. He handed it to her. She took it, her fingers brushing his around the glass, holding for a beat before she pulled it away and brought it to her mouth.
Derron leaned forward on the table, both forearms flat, his eyes on Caine. "You know that ball was underthrown."
Caine looked at him. "I put that shit on your back shoulder exactly where it was supposed to be."
"Nigga, it was behind me."
"And you still caught it, so what's the problem?"
Alonzo laughed from across the section, his drink raised halfway to his mouth. Cam sucked his teeth and reached for another bottle, already pouring the next round. Angel said something to Brooke that made her cover her mouth with her hand. Simone leaned toward Jade and the two of them started talking with their heads close together.
More drinks went down. The bottles on the table got lighter, the glasses stayed wet. The music shifted from whatever had been playing when they walked in to something heavier, slower, the bass dropping low enough to press against their ribs. The floor filled up below their section, bodies pressing closer together, the strobes giving way to a steady wash of purple and blue that turned the whole room into one moving thing.
Jade leaned over to Autumn and said something in her ear, her hand cupping the side of her mouth to block the noise. Autumn's eyes cut toward Caine. A smirk pulled at her mouth.
She stood up and reached her hand down to him. "Come on."
Caine took her hand and stood. She turned and pulled him down the steps onto the floor, threading them through the crowd until she found a space. She turned her back to him and pressed against his chest, her shoulder blades flat against him, her hips already finding the beat. His hands went to her hips. His fingers wrapped around the curve of them, thumbs pressing into the fabric of her dress.
She started to move and he matched her, his grip tightening on her waist as she rolled against him. The bass came up through the floor and into their bodies and she rode it, her back arching, her hips circling slow and deliberate. She reached back and put her hand on the side of his neck, her fingers sliding along his jaw, her nails grazing the skin below his ear.
"I knew you could dance," she said over her shoulder.
"Girl, I'm Black and Latino. This in my soul."
She turned her head enough that her mouth came close to his, close enough that he could feel the warmth of her breath when she spoke. "You needed the right partner, though."
Caine pulled her closer, one hand sliding from her hip to her stomach, his palm flat against her through the dress. His chin dropped to her shoulder, his mouth near her ear. "Something like that."
She ground slower into him, letting the beat carry them. The crowd pressed around them on all sides but the space they occupied was theirs. His other hand moved to her thigh, palm flat against the fabric of her dress where it had ridden up. She didn't stop him. Her hand tightened on his neck, her fingers curling into the short hair at the base of his neck.
She turned fully in his arms so they were facing each other, her chest against his, one arm looping around his neck. Her other hand pressed flat against his chest, her fingers spread over his sternum. She looked up at him. The strobe caught the line of her jaw, the gloss on her mouth, the dark of her eyes.
Caine looked down at her. His hand rested at the small of her back, his fingers pressing into the fabric there. The music kept going around them, bodies kept moving, but neither of them was following it anymore.
"I'm giving you a chance, Caine." Her eyes held his. "Don't fuck it up."
"You ain't gotta worry about that."
She pressed up on her toes and kissed him. Her lips met his and stayed there for a few seconds, the pressure soft, her hand tightening once on his chest before she pulled back. She took his hand and turned, walking them through the crowd and back up the steps to the section.
Cam saw them coming and threw both arms out. "About time, fuck nigga!"
Caine shook his head as he sat back down. Autumn slid in next to him, closer than before, her body turned into his. Her head leaned against his shoulder and she reached for her drink on the table, her fingers wrapping around the glass, her other hand finding his thigh again and settling there.
