by Alyssa Cole
She reached for her coat’s pocket, pulled out her phone, and turned slightly away from Likotsi.
“Hey! Hi. You’re there? Good. It’s colder in Boston? Well, yeah, no sh—crap.” She scuffed at the ground with the sole of her boot, then rocked back on her heels. “Yes, I know you’ve heard the word shit before, smartass. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Okay. Be good. Yes, I’m out of the house. Yes, for fun. Nunya business. Call me after the competition. Love you. Bye.”
She turned back to Likotsi as she slipped the slim phone back into her pocket, her gaze almost defiant. “My cousin,” she said.
Likotsi nodded. “All right. Well, thanks for—”
“I think we need to, like, chill for a few minutes,” Fab cut in. She was squinting off into the distance, as if envisioning something, and Likotsi considered running off while she was preoccupied.
This was one of the things Likotsi had found so attractive. Fab had always been planning ahead, seeing what was on the horizon. Perhaps that was why her rejection had hurt so much. Fab had looked toward her own future and there had been no place for Likotsi in it.
“Chill?” Likotsi asked, instead of running.
“Yeah.” Fab said the word as if standing in alleyways and staring into space was totally normal, and it was Likotsi who was the odd one.
Honestly, it was absurd. She could have been almost to Canal Street already if she’d just left the freight elevator museum and kept walking. Fab could have been firmly behind her and out of her life.
But that’s not what you want, is it?
“What do you have going on that’s been keeping you so busy?” Likotsi asked, belatedly processing Fab’s words from before her call.
Fab’s head dropped to the side as her gaze pivoted to Likotsi. “Do you want to chill or nah?”
Oh, this was an anti-interrogation technique. Likotsi played this game with nosy reporters and people seeking favors of the prince and herself all the time. Respond to their questions with questions of your own and see who was willing to keep it going.
“Don’t you have someplace you need to be?” Likotsi matched her tone to the frosty air rushing through the alley.
“Don’t you want to explore the city and see cool shit?” Fab held out her hand again, like this was just so easy. Like they could just fall back into the way things had been between them. And the worst part was, it was easy. Likotsi had to shove her hands into her own coat pockets to resist the pull of how good it felt to be with Fab again.
“Why do I need you to do that? I was managing perfectly fine on my own until you interrupted my morning.”
Fab’s hand dropped a bit, but didn’t fall back down to her side.
“I know you don’t need me. It’s just . . .” She looked away from Likotsi, but the rapid flutter of her eyelashes made it clear what she was trying to hide. “We had such a good thing. And I thought that thing was over. I needed to believe it was over. Then I saw you through the window on the train . . .” Her hand slapped into her coat with a muffled brush over polyester as it dropped to her side. “It’s selfish, but I thought we could do what we did last time. Just have fun and pretend it won’t hurt later.”
Fab worked her bottom lip with her teeth.
“Did it hurt for you?” Likotsi asked carefully, taking a step forward without even giving the motion thought. “Later?”
Fab nodded hard, annoyed, but Likotsi knew the annoyance wasn’t aimed at her.
“Of course, it did,” Fab said, then grudgingly added, “It never stopped.”
Well.
Well.
“Maybe . . . maybe chilling wouldn’t be such a terrible idea.” Likotsi reached out her own hand, heedless of the proverbial goat’s teeth that threatened to close over her fingers. “Or maybe, like last time, it’s a terrible idea but we’ll ignore that part for now.”
Fab tried to laugh, but the sound came out rough, choked. She took Likotsi’s hand, her warm fingers closing quick and tight, like she would never let Likotsi go again.
“Come on.” Fab said, and they were off.
Chapter Four
The Previous Spring
Happy hour at Lakay Se Lakay was long over, and the crowd had changed from after-work drinkers reveling in a perfect Spring evening to those who’d come for the weekly Afrobeats dance party.
Fab wasn’t drunk—she’d had two rum cocktails over the course of the several hours she’d spent talking with Likotsi, and they’d shared plates of fried plantains, pate kòde, and boulettes—but she felt giddy and happy and warm from the inside out. So freaking warm, like she’d found a vintage coat made of the finest, thickest wool, and sized exactly right for her heart.
Maybe she was drunk, not on alcohol but on the heady tension that was building between her and Likotsi. It was like a game of Jenga, with each new topic possibly being the one that would topple over the amazing and improbable structure they were creating together. Fab kind of wanted it to be knocked over because things shouldn’t be this good with someone she’d probably never see again.
Likotsi lived on another continent. Both of them had acknowledged that long distance relationships weren’t what they wanted as they’d jokingly expressed regret over their mutual attraction. The Jenga tower needed to fall, but Fab had a feeling it wouldn’t. That they could build it up to impossible heights if given the chance.
Chance requires proximity, so no catching feelings.
She fanned her gaze out over the crowd, automatically scanning for Likotsi, who had gone to the bathroom. It was only now, sitting alone, that she realized that she was all in. This couldn’t be more than a fun date, but . . .
No buts. NO. CATCHING. FEELINGS.
Then Likotsi appeared in Fab’s line of sight, moving through the crowd with a jaunty fluidity that would have bordered on overkill if it weren’t smoothly reined in. Maybe it was because Likotsi’s job apparently entailed working with people who could buy out all the bottles in the VIP section, from what Fab had garnered, but Likotsi carried herself like royalty.
She wasn’t conceited or anything, though she had every reason to be—she just seemed like she knew her worth. And she knew how to make others feel worthy.
Fab’s last few dates, with men and women both, had been sub-par. That didn’t make her special—dates being awful were the normal state of things these days. Her bad dates had ranged from incompatibility to potential partners being straight-up jerks.
Fab was an outgoing person, but she’d held herself back after a few dudes in a row who had seemed to want her stylishness and smarts as trophies, but would have been happier if she had no personality.
But Likotsi seemed to like Fab—to like Fab’s words, and jokes, and ideas, not just the package they were wrapped in, though she clearly appreciated that, too. And Likotsi, with her old-fashioned charm, her kindness, and her humor? Fab couldn’t help but like her back.
Dammit.
Likotsi sat down across the small table, her smile loose. She’d taken off her suit jacket while she was in the bathroom—it was draped over the back of her chair now—so there was only the stark white of her French placket shirt against her smooth dark skin. The shirt was still tucked in, but the sleeves had been carefully rolled to mid forearm. Fab realized with a start that Likotsi’s tie was gone, too, and the top two buttons of the shirt were undone, revealing the shadows between the slopes of her breasts.
“Ahem.”
Fab glanced up to find Likotsi watching her with a knowing smile.
Busted.
Fab grimaced and fanned a hand in front of her eyes, then pulled it away. “Shit. Sorry! I didn’t mean to . . .” Eye fuck you. “. . . creep on you.”
“I wouldn’t call it creeping,” Likotsi said cheerfully. “Perusing.”
“That sounds much more dignified,” Fab said with a slow grin.
Likotsi laced her fingers together and rested her forearms on the edge of the table—she hadn’t done that while she’d worn her jacket. Fab found it oddly attrac
tive that Likotsi’s rolled sleeves had a function other than “increased sexiness,” though that was the result.
If Likotsi only changed her attire for functional reasons, why had she removed the tie and unbuttoned her shirt, revealing the fine hollow at the curve of her neck and the swell of her breasts?
“I believe that I’m going to have to call you out on something,” Likotsi said.
Fab felt a tremor of unease. Maybe the Jenga tower was about to tumble down and, wow, that wasn’t what she’d wanted after all.
“What?” she asked a little sharply.
“Earlier you said that if we were here late enough to dance that you would, quote ‘put it on me.’” Likotsi stood again and walked around the table. “I’m not quite sure what that means but I think I’d like you to show me. Can I have this dance?”
Fab might have laughed at Likotsi’s chivalrous manners, but there was intent in the woman’s eyes, and there was nothing chivalrous about that. Likotsi wanted to touch her—they weren’t about to get up and line dance after all. The couples already on the dance floor were pressed close against one another, hips winding to the bass-driven music.
Likotsi led her into the crowd inside the lounge, then turned . . . and stood there.
Fab leaned close to her ear. “What’s wrong?”
“I actually can’t dance very well,” Likotsi said. “Even when I do the traditional dances back home, I’m always placed at the back of the group. You’ve been warned.”
It wasn’t a self-conscious confession. Even in admitting something that could get her made fun of, Likotsi met Fab’s gaze and grinned. Fab felt the liking and the wanting that had been building up in her all evening smash into one another. She shouldn’t have worried about catching feelings—she should have worried about losing her grip on them.
“Well, I wouldn’t want you stepping on these shoes,” she said in a low, calm voice, as if her heart wasn’t beating wildly in her chest.
She slid her hands around Likotsi’s waist, watching to make sure that she wasn’t crossing any lines. Likotsi didn’t pull away—she stepped closer to Fab until there was no space between them except the wrinkles of their clothes bunching as they pressed together.
“You can lead,” Likotsi said, heat and mischievous light in her dark brown eyes. She rested her hands on Fab’s shoulders and pushed her hips forward just slightly. The contact of their hip bones made Fab’s stomach go fluttery with desire.
“Something tells me you aren’t used to following,” Fab said, easing into a swaying two-step that Likotsi followed after an initial misstep in the same direction.
Likotsi slid her hands behind Fab’s neck, lacing her fingers so that her warm palms rested on Fab’s nape. There was the slightest mismatch of tempo in their shared rhythm and Fab sped up to adjust, recalibrating the whine of her hips so that they were soon back in sync.
“You’re right,” Likotsi said with a grin. “But you don’t have to lead to get someone to follow you.”
They both laughed, and Fab’s forehead brushed Likotsi’s. “Why do I feel like I’m getting a side of life advice along with my sexy dancing?”
“It’s my accent,” Likotsi said, brows raised. “Americans seem to think I sound very wise. Also, I must correct you. This dancing is not very sexy because I don’t really know how to move my hips. I can only move in one direction. See?”
Fab laughed a little, but mostly she focused on the way Likotsi was suddenly undulating against her with more emphasis, almost riding her leg. It made her think of the way Likotsi might move against her in the privacy of Fab’s apartment, how, if she shifted her thigh and tugged down on Likotsi’s waist, she could press her thigh up and—
Fab’s nipples went taut beneath her bra, and desire throbbed between her legs.
“I think we might have different definitions of sexy,” she said, though the way Likotsi’s lips were slightly parted insinuated that Likotsi knew exactly what sexy was and that she was being pretty damn successful at it. “But here you go.”
The music switched to a slower tempo and Fab slipped her thumbs through the belt loops on the back of Likotsi’s pants, holding her in place as she began to work her own hips.
“Move like this.” She swung her hips in a slow, loose figure-eight motion, grinding against Likotsi so she could feel the motion and also because Fab wanted her.
Sweat beaded on her upper lip, despite the fans pointing at the dance floor—her whole body was warm.
Likotsi had overstated her inability to dance—she caught the rhythm of the music, gaze still locked on Fab’s, and her hips worked just goddamn fine.
“Like this?” Likotsi raised her brows, almost in challenge. Her head was tilted up, her mouth close to Fab’s neck, her exhalation tickling along the sensitive skin there.
Fab nodded, bringing her mouth dangerously close to Likotsi’s. “Just like that.”
Fab enjoyed flashy dancing, had practiced all the latest dance crazes with her friends, but she didn’t move away from Likotsi even when the music changed to a faster song. They moved their bodies against one another, the friction of their breasts brushing and the winding of their hips more than dancing now. Likotsi did keep losing the rhythm, but Fab didn’t think it had anything to do with skill. At that point, she was barely paying attention to the music herself, focused only on the parts of her body touching Likotsi’s body and how to keep that contact going.
Likotsi leaned up to Fab’s ear after several songs had passed. “Can we step outside for a moment?”
“Sure.” Fab was a little breathless herself.
Outside it was cool, the spring night air not yet taking on the steaming mugginess of summer in the city. Fab closed her eyes against the pleasant breeze, which carried away the heat on her skin but not the desire in her belly.
The street was mostly quiet, apart from the lounge—it was a weekday after all. Fab had work in the morning. She should be going home, doing her nightly skin-care routine, and getting some rest.
“Sorry to drag you away from the dance floor but”—Likotsi stepped closer to Fab—“the music was so loud, and when I ask ‘Can I kiss you?’ I want to hear your answer loud and clear.”
“Yes,” Fab breathed.
“I didn’t ask yet,” Likotsi said with that grin of hers.
Fab cupped Likotsi’s face in her hands and leaned down until their lips pressed together.
Likotsi’s lips were full and soft, and her mouth was warm as her tongue pressed back against Fab’s. Fab leaned into the kiss, her mind clear of everything except for the taste and scent and feel of Likotsi. They swayed in the cool spring night, kissing and kissing until Fab wasn’t even sure how she was still standing.
“I have a room at a luxury hotel in Midtown,” Likotsi breathed against her lips.
“Oh, fancy,” Fab chuckled. “But far. Too far. My studio is around the corner.”
“I’ll go grab our things,” Likotsi said.
Fab leaned her head back, and then brought her chin down to her chest. “You know, I’d forgotten I even had a purse in there. It takes a lot to make me forget an accessory.”
Likotsi plucked at her collar. “So I’m ‘a lot.’ Is that a good thing?”
“Yeah.” Fab leaned down and kissed Likotsi again, not caring if someone was making off with her vintage purse in the meantime. “Real good. I can’t wait to show you how good.”
“Goddess,” Likotsi breathed against Fab’s mouth, the exhalation full of humor and anticipation and reverence. “You’re gonna put it on me, aren’t you?”
Fab laughed. “Just you wait.”
She went back inside, and Fab pulled her phone from her skirt pocket.
Maman: Fabiola, do you have the number for the lawyer? Just in case? You know I hate this texting. Call.
She put the phone away and tried not to think about just in case. What that would mean for her family and, more selfishly, for her. Guilt nagged at her, that she was even thinking about herself.
Tomorrow, Likotsi would be gone and she’d call her mother. Tonight, Fab would have fun.
Chapter Five
Winter
They left the alley the way they came, and this time Fab wasn’t pulling Likotsi, though she still had her by the hand. She walked a step ahead, as if worried that Likotsi would decide against going along with whatever it was they were doing if she moved into the lead position.
“Your cousin is on a school trip?” Likotsi asked. She fully expected to receive “Nunya business” as a response, but Fab answered without hesitation.
“She’s up in Boston with her school’s debate team for a competition.” The words seemed clipped, hurried, as if she didn’t want to talk about it. “It’s this fancy private school—they do cool, but mad expensive, stuff like this all the time.”
Likotsi doubted it was as fancy as the private school in the Alps that Prince Thabiso had attended, but perhaps it was as expensive given how much everything in New York seemed to cost.
Likotsi had a vague memory of Fab having stopped by her cousin’s school before meeting for coffee on their third date. “How old is she again?”
“Seventeen now. A senior in high school.” Fab stopped in front of what appeared to be a French bistro. “Here we are.”
“I’m not sure I could eat again just yet,” Likotsi said, though she did begin to look over the menu hanging in the window. A tiramisu might go nicely with a cup of coffee.
Fab gave her side-eye. “It’s above the restaurant. Come on.”
Likotsi looked up at what appeared to be a normal four-story apartment building—a solid rectangular brick, like the others on the street.
When she glanced at Fab, her expression was pensive.
Maybe she’s ready to talk, Likotsi thought, and though she had wanted to know why Fab had broken off their relationship—though that was the reason she was even following her, wasn’t it?—she felt a tremor of unease at finally knowing.
