Not the professor's "Baby"

WHAT IF???

The Uber ride back felt longer than it probably was. My head leaned against the window, the city still waking up around me. Streets wet from last night’s rain, people rushing to work, the smell of roasted coffee drifting through half open car windows.

My phone buzzed again in my lap. Zina, naturally.

> Zina: Babe where tf are you?

Did he kidnap you? Should I call the police or what?

I rolled my eyes, a smile tugging at my lips. I typed back quickly.

> Me: Almost home. Don’t panic. Long story.

The Uber driver glanced at me in the rearview, probably wondering what someone like me was doing out all night. My reflection looked back: hair tangled, lipstick smudged, eyes a little too bright for someone running on barely any sleep.

I paid the fare, stepped out, and climbed the three flights of stairs to our tiny shared apartment. Zina had left the door unlocked, of course.

Inside, the living room smelled faintly of takeout and cheap vanilla candles. Our mismatched couch was covered with a throw blanket, and the TV was paused on some reality show we half-watched last night before going out.

Zina popped her head out of the bathroom, hair wrapped in a towel, toothbrush sticking out of her mouth. “Oh my God! You’re alive!” she said, toothpaste foam spilling slightly as she spoke.

I laughed, dropping my heels by the door. “Barely.”

She rinsed, then leaned against the bathroom doorway, her grin wicked. “So? Tell. Me. Everything.”

I hesitated, dropping onto the couch and pulling my hair out of its messy ponytail. “It was just… this random guy I met. That’s all.”

Her eyes widened. “Random? Like, how random? Give me something, babe.”

I shrugged, a blush creeping up my neck. “Tall. Really good looking. Older.”

Zina squealed, darting back into the bathroom to spit out the last of the toothpaste, then rushed to flop beside me on the couch. The towel slipped slightly, but she didn’t care.

“Older? Like older older, or hot professor older?” she teased.

I swallowed, trying to keep my face straight. “Stop. Just older. I don’t know, late thirties maybe.”

She clutched a hand to her chest dramatically. “Girl! Sugar daddy category!”

“It wasn’t like that!” I said quickly, laughing. “He was just… nice.”

She narrowed her eyes at me. “And?”

“And… that’s it.”

Zina clearly didn’t believe me, but she let it go, her grin softening into something sweeter. “Well, whoever he was, you look like you had a good time. You’re literally glowing.”

My cheeks burned hotter. “Shut up.”

She snorted. “Says the one who left me all alone at the club.”

“You left first!” I shot back.

She held up her hands in mock surrender. “Okay, guilty. His name’s Jayden, by the way. He’s twenty-two, works at some sneaker store, and has the cutest baby face ever.”

“Jayden,” I repeated, trying to lock the name in my mind.

“And he asked for my number. And yes, before you say it, I actually gave it to him,” she finished, her tone half-proud, half-nervous.

“Look at us,” I teased. “One wild night and we’re both catching feelings.”

She giggled. “Speak for yourself! You sure you’re not the one falling?”

I swallowed, images of Daniel’s messy hair and sleepy smile flashing behind my eyes. “No. It’s nothing.”

After we laughed for like five minutes, Zina disappeared into her room, humming something under her breath. I sat there, picking at my chipped nail polish, mind replaying every second from last night. His lips, the way he’d looked at me in the morning, and the raw feeling of him inside me.

I shook my head, standing to stretch. My body ached in places that felt strangely good, muscles reminding me of exactly what I’d done.

I walked into our tiny kitchen, pulled open the fridge, and settled for cold leftover pizza. The crust was soggy, but I barely tasted it.

My phone buzzed again. This time it wasn’t Zina.

> Mom: Morning, baby. How’s school? Remember to eat. Love you.

Mom. Selma. The only person in the world who could make me feel guilty with three sentences.

> Me: Morning, Mom. I’m good. Just got back from studying at a friend’s place. Love you too.

A harmless lie. Or half-truth, maybe. I set the phone down, suddenly missing her voice. She’d always been there, holding my hand through every bad decision. Even if she didn’t approve, she never made me feel judged.

Part of me wanted to call and hear her say my name in that soft, sing song way. Another part of me knew if I heard her voice now, I’d spill everything, and I wasn’t ready for that.

I showered quickly, hot water steaming up the tiny bathroom mirror. My neck still had faint marks, red and purple, and I pressed my fingers over them gently, breath catching.

My reflection stared back, hair damp around my face, eyes wide and thoughtful. “Who even are you right now?” I whispered to myself, half laughing.

Back in the bedroom, Zina had music playing low on her speaker. Something soft and old school. She was sitting cross legged on her bed, scrolling through her phone.

“You wanna get brunch later?” she asked without looking up.

“Yeah,” I said, pulling a shirt over my head. “I need something greasy.”

“Girl, same,” she muttered, thumb flying across the screen.

I flopped onto her bed, head resting on her leg. “So… you like him? Jayden?”

She hesitated, then nodded. “He’s sweet. Kinda goofy, but sweet.”

“Texted you yet?”

“Twice. Told me to text when I wake up, like he didn’t see me crawl into an Uber at 2 a.m.,” she teased, rolling her eyes, but she couldn’t hide her smile.

“And you? Gonna see your random guy again?”

My chest tightened. “Maybe,” I whispered.

She nudged me gently with her knee. “Babe, it’s okay to like someone, you know.”

“I barely know him,” I murmured, but even as I said it, my mind replayed the way he’d said I want to see you again.

I checked my phone again. No new messages from him. Should I text first? What would I even say?

Thanks for the best night of my life? Too much.

Hope you got home okay? Stupid, since I left his place.

Maybe nothing. Let him make the next move.

We finally got dressed properly, me in ripped jeans and a black tank top, Zina in an oversized shirt she called “casually hot.” Outside, the air smelled fresh, the sun warm but not too harsh.

At the diner around the corner, we ordered pancakes, eggs, and enough coffee to fuel an army. Between bites, Zina told me about Jayden’s crooked smile and the way he offered her his jacket when it got chilly.

“Sounds like a decent guy,” I said, genuinely happy for her.

“Decent’s boring,” she teased. “But he’s cute, so I’ll allow it.”

“And you?” she asked again. “Older random man still on your mind?”

I pretended to focus on stirring sugar into my coffee. “A little,” I admitted.

Zina raised an eyebrow. “A little? Michelle, you’re thinking about him so hard your eggs are getting cold.”

“Shut up,” I mumbled, laughing.

Back at the apartment, my phone buzzed again. For a split second, my heart jumped, thinking it might be him. But it was Mom again.

> Mom: Don’t forget to call Grandma tonight. She misses you.

Me: Will do. Love you.

Mom: Love you too, baby. Stay safe.

I set the phone down, heart softer than before. In the quiet of the apartment, Zina humming in the next room, my stomach fluttered in a strange mix of excitement and fear.

I didn’t know who Daniel really was yet. I didn’t know if I’d see him again. But I knew I wanted to. And that scared me more than anything