Chapter Two

I’m mesmerized as Zarina re-enters the ballroom. Her chestnut brown skin practically glows. Her coffee brown, almond-shaped eyes light up when her gaze meets mine. She looks stunning in a wine-colored gown that shows off her subtle curves and makes her look like a goddess. Her dark hair falls beyond her shoulders in soft, silky waves.

I pull out her chair.

Zee gathers the flowing fabric of her dress and takes her seat. “Isn’t Myra sitting there?” she asks when I sit beside her.

“She was.” I shrug. As if I’m not out of a few hundred bucks and VIP tickets the next time The Experience performs in Atlanta. Sis looked sweet and motherly, but she drove a hard bargain. “Thankfully, she was willing to switch seats with me.”

I nod toward my original seat at table five. Myra waves at us with a big ass grin on her face.

“That was generous of her.” Zee waves back, then turns to me and lowers her voice. “I was a little nervous about sitting with a table full of strangers. And I was hoping we’d have more time to reconnect.”

“Me too.” I’m glad she’s good with the move.

On stage, one alumnus after another shares anecdotes about their interactions with Dr. Mitchell during her forty-plus years of service.

The woman is a brilliant, caring educator. She wouldn’t stand for any bullshit. But she never gave up on her students either.

Later, during dinner, someone at our table suggests we share our own stories about Dr. Mitchell. I try to take a pass, but Zee’s not having it.

“As much time as you spent in Dr. Mitchell’s office, I know you have a story,” she teases.

I glance around at my fellow alumni who stare at me expectantly.

“Dr. Mitchell changed my life,” I admit. “I’ve played piano since I was nine. But when I arrived at Peachtree, I was all about the drums and expecting to be a lead drummer. When I got stuck on piano instead, I wasn’t taking the opportunity seriously. I was on my slick shit. Cutting class. Half-assing assignments. More worried about my image than my grades. But Dr. Mitchell never stopped encouraging me.”

“Sounds like her alright.” An older gentleman at our table laughs. “She took that no student left behind shit seriously.”

“Damn straight.” I chuckle. “She was determined to get my mind right. So she paired me with a mentor. A jazz pianist who graduated maybe twenty years earlier: Layton Murphy. I had zero interest in jazz, but Layton was laidback and cool as fuck. He introduced me to other music genres. Introduced me to legends like Thelonious Monk, Duke Ellington, and Mary Lou Williams. Made me realize how badass those early jazz pianists were. Gave me a respect for contemporary jazz artists. Somewhere along the way I found myself. Found my sound.”

“That’s beautiful, Dre.” Zee’s dark eyes shine.

“A few years ago, she came to one of my shows and made it backstage. She gave me the biggest hug and told me how proud she was of me. It was a special moment for both of us,” I say. “She told me I should thank you, Zee. You never told me it was you who suggested mentorship for me. So thank you. I don’t know if I’d have a career right now if it weren’t for you.”

“Any friend would’ve done the same.” Zee’s smile is shy. “The important thing is you took the opportunity and ran with it.” She places a hand on my wrist.

I try to ignore the heat seeping into my skin beneath her soft, warm touch. “What’s your Dr. Mitchell story?”

Zee draws her hand back and places it in her lap.

“I spent most of my day trying not to be noticed in the hallways or in choir. One day, Dr. Mitchell summoned me to her office. I thought I was in trouble. But she wanted to tell me that she saw my potential. My leadership abilities. She said I should never dim my light for anyone. Not even my parents.”

Zee dabs her eyes with the napkin I hand her when her voice breaks.

“I couldn’t see in myself what she did. Didn’t recognize my value or my strength back then. But when my marriage went sideways, a few years after my parents’ marriage did, I was having this moment. I remembered Dr. Mitchell’s advice. And for the first time, when I looked in the mirror, I saw the woman she saw. It gave me the strength to walk away from my marriage and reclaim my life.”

I take her hand beneath the table. “I’m so damn proud of you for standing up for yourself.”

“And so are we.” Tay, seated on the other side of Zee, squeezes her other arm.

Zee thanks the younger woman who shares her own experience with Dr. Mitchell.

After dinner, the conversation continues with our fellow alumni. I try to focus on what everyone else is saying. But my attention keeps drifting back to Zarina.

I’ve always been into Zee. But her dad and mine made it clear she was off limits. That was a lifetime ago. Seeing her again after all this time feels surreal. I’ve been low-key obsessed with this woman all night.

“You still into LEGO?” I ask.

I want to know everything about Zee. About her work and her life in the years we’ve been apart.

“One of the many reasons I was never considered cool.” She wrinkles her nose.

Why is this woman so fucking adorable?

“Nerd alert. Yes, I still love LEGOs, but it’s been a long time since I assembled a set.”

I’m mesmerized by her smile, her laugh, the sound of her voice. The way she touches my arm while we talk.

“Dance with me?” I ask when the DJ cranks up “Lovely Day” by Bill Withers.

“I don’t know. How do you feel about the likelihood that I’ll stomp your designer boots with these heels?” Zee’s mouth curves in an endearing smile.

“C’mon, girl. You can’t be that bad. Unless you’re one of the five Black folks born without rhythm,” I tease.

She breaks into the sweetest laugh. I already know I need to hear that sound again. That I want to be the reason for it.

“I dance quite a bit now, actually. But line dancing is more my thing. Rest assured that when it’s time for the Cupid Shuffle, the Wobble, or that Tamia line dance, I’m gonna be at the center of the dance floor.”

“Alright then.” I rub my hands together and nod. “I see you. And I’ll be right there beside you.”

“Couple dancing on the other hand, not a strong suit. I haven’t had many opportunities to practice.” Zarina frowns, seemingly embarrassed by her admission.

“The key is having the right partner.” I extend my hand.

“I know you’re not about to leave this brotha hangin’.” Tay nudges Zee’s shoulder when she doesn’t respond right away.

“Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Zee places her hand in mine, and I pull her to her feet.

We stand there, her gaze meeting mine. There’s something about this moment I can’t really explain. I just know it hits different, and I’m thrown by it.

I lead Zee onto the dance floor. Several couples slow dance as Bill Withers croons. I thread our fingers and place my other hand low on her back. We start to sway, but her back tenses.

“Don’t worry. I promise not to do anything crazy. Except for that Dirty Dancing lift.”

Zee’s eyes widen.

I chuckle. “You know I’m just teasing, girl.”

She pouts, and I laugh even harder.

“Do you want me to stomp your foot?” Baby girl attempts to sound hard. But her full, lush lips curve in a reluctant smile.

My gaze drops to her sensual mouth. I can’t help imagining how those lips must taste. How they’d feel wrapped around my…

“What is it?” Zee frowns.

“What do you mean?” I shift my guilty gaze to Toby dancing with Leilani.

How is it that those two long-time ‘best friends’ still haven’t figured out they’re basically a couple?

Then again, I’m the last person on the planet qualified to hand out relationship advice.

“You spaced out for a sec.” Zarina studies me with concern.

“I was thinking about how crazy it is that I’m here tonight dancing with you.”

Not untrue.

“What’s so crazy? The fact that I’m not wearing a sweater twin set and sensible slacks, that I’m actually at a school dance, or that I haven’t tripped over my own two feet or yours...yet.” A sexy grin lights up her gorgeous face.

“It’s none of that,” I assure her. “I have a confession to make. I asked Lisa Rollins to the prom because I couldn’t take the person I really wanted to.”

“And who was that?” Zee cocks her head.

“You just gon’ make me say it, huh?”

She smirks but doesn’t reply.

“In a perfect world, I would’ve asked you to the prom.” I pull her closer.

“My dad would never have agreed to that.” Zee’s voice is tinged with sadness.

I immediately regret bringing it up. Tonight has been perfect. I don’t want to stir up painful memories.

“This is better than prom,” I say truthfully. “Getting to know the strong, beautiful, accomplished woman you’ve become despite the disappointments and scars—”

“Or because of them,” she interjects.

“So maybe our timing is just right.”

“Maybe.” Zee’s eyes light up and she relaxes in my arms.

The way she looks at me takes my breath away.

Everything except me, Zee, and the crooning of an R&B legend fades into the background.

I sing “Lovely Day” along with Bill Withers, and Zee breaks into a huge smile. She joins me in singing, reminding me of what a beautiful voice she has. Her dad pushed her toward a career as a gospel singer. Her career never really took off. But certainly not due to a lack of talent.

When the DJ transitions to “Right Here” by SWV, I reluctantly release her, but I’m rewarded with the sight of Zee getting into the groove of the nostalgic song. Her hands are in the air as she sways her hips.

We sing along with everyone on the dance floor.

When the DJ puts on “The Cupid Shuffle,” the small dance floor is suddenly packed. This is usually my cue to grab a seat on the sidelines and watch. But the pure joy on Zarina’s face as she hits each step and grooves to the music is contagious.

In high school, Zee was always on the outside looking in. So I love seeing her so happy and confident, enjoying herself.

It’s hot as fuck on this dance floor. I’m sweating and tired after a long day. But ain’t no way I’m tapping out on partying with this woman. So I’m thankful when she leads me to the table to sit down.

Zee pours me a glass of cold water from the pitcher on the table.

“Gotta stay hydrated, if you’re gonna hang with me tonight, my guy.” Zee grins over her glass of water.

“Oh, yo’ ass got jokes.”

I gulp the water gratefully because she was on the money. I was out there on the dance floor sweating like a pack mule trying to keep up with her. Meanwhile, her fine ass was gliding across the floor like she was on skates. She has a healthy glow and a light shimmer that make her look even sexier.

“Honestly, I was pretty impressed.” She places a palm on my thigh and leans in so only I can hear her. “I figured you’d be one of those guys who thinks he’s too cool for line dancing.”

“I’m a little hurt that you’d reduce me to a stereotype.” I place a hand over my heart in mock outrage.

I’m trying hard to ignore the heat and electricity flowing into my thigh. My dick stirs in response to the proximity of her hand. Her divine floral and citrus scent makes me feel like I’m on a Caribbean island.

“You’re right. My bad.” She smiles mischievously. “But you don’t need to exhaust yourself, Dre. I’m already impressed.”

“Good.” I sip more water. “Because I’m definitely impressed with you, Ms. Head of PR slash Line Dance Queen.”

Zarina giggles and bumps my shoulder with hers. The way I used to do when I’d see her in the hall and she seemed down.

We have the table mostly to ourselves, so we sit and talk. I’m glad for some one-on-one time to get reacquainted with my old friend. It’s my introduction to the unfiltered, authentic Zarina Michaels. I wish we had more time to reconnect. But come Monday, she’s heading back to Chicago, and I’ll return to LA.

“It’s the second-to-last song of the night. So y’all hit the dance floor and show us what you got!” The DJ announces.

I’m content to keep my ass planted in this chair until I hear the opening strains of “Can’t Get Enough” by Tamia. I climb to my feet again and reach for her hand.

“Maybe I’m not done impressing you.” I wink.

“This one can be a little tricky,” she warns as we join everyone else on the dance floor.

I smirk, feeling smug as fuck. I wrap my arm loosely around her waist as we execute the steps, letting go when it’s time for the first spin. I thread our fingers or place a hand on her waist whenever our positions permit.

“Okay, Dre.” Zee beams, her hand in mine as we hit the steps in unison. “I’m beyond impressed.”

“Thanks.” I opt not to share the part about me having dated a yoga slash line dance instructor for a hot minute last year.

Sis was super flexible. But so was her grip on reality.

The night ends with everyone on the floor singing DJ Khaled’s “All I Do is Win” to the top of our lungs.

When the dance is over, Zee gives me a double high five. I wrap her up in a long hug before we head over to our seats to say goodbye to our table mates.

It’s way too early for our night to end. In high school, Zarina was the forbidden princess I dared not lay a finger on. Maybe that was best for both of us back then. But tonight, I’m not letting this woman walk away without shooting my shot.

“Wanna grab a drink somewhere? Maybe get a bite to eat?”

Zarina studies me, her dark eyes twinkling. I’m mentally preparing myself to take this L as she tries to decide how to politely turn down my offer.

“I’d love to continue our night together, Dre. But I thought maybe you’d prefer to order room service and raid the mini bar in my hotel room.”

“Um…did you just…are you saying…I mean…you’re not staying with your mom while you’re in town?”

Real smooth, Dre.

“I didn’t want Ma worrying about me staying out late. So I sort of snuck into town without telling her.” Zarina tucks her purse beneath her arm.

“I…uh…hell yeah,” I say finally. “Did you drive?”

“Took a ride share.”

“Perfect. Because I drove.” I rub my chin, a vision of Zee’s fine ass minus that dress filling my brain. “I just need to say goodbye to a few people first.”

“I’ll meet you in the lobby.” Zee walks away before I can ask if she wants to join me for my end-of-the-night goodbye tour.

I’m captivated by the sway of this woman’s hips as she heads in the direction of the bathrooms.

“That you, bruh?” Cedrick Brown asks minus Ty’s creepy ass overtone.

“Just reconnecting with an old friend,” I say truthfully. “I saw Nikki and her fiancé. You good?”

Ced has been in love with Nikki Hart since high school. They were off and on for years—mostly because career and family stuff kept them apart. But seeing her with record exec Dino Bradley, showing off that big ass engagement ring, I can only imagine how tough that had to be for him.

“Of all the muthafuckas in the world...why’d she have to end up with him?” Ced rubs his chin. “I hate his ass.”

I hate Dino’s shady ass, too. I avoid him at music events. But saying so won’t make Ced feel better. He cares deeply for Nikki. So even if they’re not together, I know he wants her to be happy.

“Sorry man.” I clap a hand on Ced’s shoulder.

The two of us join Ward Hughes, Toby Hanlon, Leilani Stephens, and a few others to say our goodbyes.

“After-party at my place?” Ced offers. “We can order something and just kick back for a few hours.”

Everyone else is on board with Ced’s idea. I already have plans, but I don’t tell them that. Gossip about the bad boy and the pastor’s kid leaving together would light up the online alumni chat. I’m not going to saddle Zee with more unwanted attention.

“Unfortunately, I have to take a raincheck tonight. But it was great seeing everybody.”

I give dap to the fellas and hug Leilani. Then I make my way to the lobby where the most gorgeous woman in the world is waiting for me.