Chapter Twenty-Seven: Silk, Slits & Smoke in the Air
648 Words
Lyric
Friday came like a storm.
And we were the thunder.
After school, Janiyah and I hit the mall with one mission:
Look too good to be ignored.
She found her dress first — a black silk number with two slits running up both thighs and gold heels that screamed “bad girl energy.”
“This gon’ have Smoke in a chokehold,” she said, smirking in the mirror.
Me?
I didn’t think I’d find anything I liked.
Until I saw it.
Deep wine red.
Silk. Low cut at the chest.
A slit so high it kissed my thigh.
Janiyah’s eyes widened when I stepped out the changing room.
“Damn, b***h. You look good. You need to wear dresses like this more often.”
I blushed, trying to tug the dress down.
“Stop that,” she snapped. “Don’t hide. Let ‘em stare.”
We got heels to match — gold for her, silver for me — and strolled the mall like we owned it. Took selfies. Laughed too loud. Ate fries with no shame.
I was staying the weekend at her place, and we were ready to wild out.
That night?
We were fire.
Edges laid. Lashes long.
Glossy lips and glowing skin.
We took pics in front of Janiyah’s bedroom mirror, on her staircase, even outside in the car.
She posted one with the caption:
“Don’t claim me now 😘”
It went up fast. And so did the views.
Smoke’s Phone – 10:48 PM
Smoke was already at the club with Zay.
VIP booth. Loud music. Drinks in hand.
He leaned over and showed his phone to Zay.
“Yo,” he grinned, “Your girl out here showing out.”
Zay took the phone.
His jaw locked when he saw the pic.
Lyric.
That wine red dress.
That slit.
That glow.
Then he saw the location.
He stood up.
“You told them to come here?”
Smoke blinked. “I ain’t even know they was comin’, bro.”
Club Entrance – 11:03 PM
We walked in like we’d done it a thousand times.
Fake IDs. Flirty smiles. Confident heels.
The bouncer didn’t blink.
Inside, it was everything.
Lights low. Bass thumping.
Bodies swaying. Smoke in the air.
Janiyah ordered us drinks like she’d done this forever.
Two sips in, she was on the dance floor, twerking on some dude like her heart hadn’t been broken days ago.
I was giggling with some guy who complimented my dress.
He was tall, fine, and way too close.
“I’m just sayin’,” he whispered, “a girl like you? You don’t need no man who don’t know what he got.”
I laughed.
Drunk. Loose. Tipsy on more than alcohol.
But then the music shifted.
And so did the air.
Zay was watching me from the top of the VIP stairs.
Arms crossed.
Eyes cold.
Jaw tight.
Smoke was behind him, staring at Janiyah and shaking his head.
I froze.
The guy in front of me didn’t notice — kept talking, kept leaning in.
That’s when Zay started walking down.
Slow. Heavy.
People moved without him asking.
He got to me just as the guy said something slick in my ear.
Zay grabbed my wrist, firm but not rough.
“Come here.”
The guy blinked. “Yo, you got a problem?”
Zay didn’t even look at him.
Just stared at me.
“Lyric. Let’s go.”
My heart was racing.
From the liquor. The music. The moment.
I looked over — Janiyah and Smoke were full-on arguing now.
Hands flying. Her finger in his face. Him whispering something that made her push him.
Mess.
Complete, beautiful, drunk, sexy mess.
And I?
I let Zay pull me right out of it.
Because in that moment…
I didn’t know if I was in trouble…
Or if I was the trouble.
- Writer
