Page 55 of Ms. V's Hot Girl Summer

And I would always remember the drunk flapping in my stomach, the butterflies always present, reminding me that this moment was special.

We made it back to our truck as the carnival organizers got the stage ready for the second part of carnival. Local and international soca artists hit the stage and kept all the revelers dancing and vibing as the sunset and heat gave way to a warm breeze.

“I need to sit down!” My thighs were on fire, whining meant squatting, and Mama hadn’t gone to the gym this whole week. This substituted five leg days in a row.

“We bought some foldable chairs,” Desmond explained, pulling them out of the trunk of their rental and placing things a little away from the loud noise of the music. All the trucks had synced up with the music from the stage, creating a wonderful surround system.

Relief coursed through me once I sat down. Grace sat next to me, closing her eyes and relaxing in the camping chair.

“I won’t be able to walk tomorrow,” she complained.

“Who are you telling?” I laughed, knowing I would pay for it and gladly.

The ocean breeze cooled down my heated skin and helped clear my fuzzy brain. Ms. V, Hot Gyal, was back and stronger than ever, the vibes of the day solidifying that I could have more than what I thought I could. I deserved happiness and fun times, security, and steadfastness.

I had to pinch myself as Orlando and his friends stood next to Grace and me. Orlando’s aura lightened through my stay here in Ofele with him; even with all that waited for both of us back home, his happiness was evident.

Somehow, I had missed that before this, he’d always walked weighed down, the load he carried a solitary task. The vulnerability he’d shown these past days held me in awe and made mine easier to bear. I hated opening up, but we’d learned how to do it together. There was still much more to learn about each other, and be tested.

But for now, the future felt good…with the exception of his law school and Milton. Those two topics needed full revisiting, but I didn’t want to spoil the vibes. There would be time back home for the tough conversations.

For now, I stared at my man, his chiseled melanated lean torso glowing under the dying sun, his smirk enhanced by those crafty lips I couldn’t wait to kiss again. His deep brown eyes so beautiful to me, so full of pride and joy.

My man.

Orlando caught me staring, and the wink he gave me made all the fuzzy feelings sharpen in full detail. The wink morphed into a frown as he put his hand in his pocket and pulled out my cell phone. Orlando’s face slackened, and the shoulders that only a second ago sat proud and relaxed tensed up, the weight of it all returning with no explanation. What the hell could my phone say? Was it the twins?

“Qué paso?” My body acted before my brain could catch up. Heart in my throat, I stood up, extending my hand, flapping my fingers until the weight of my phone landed on my hand.

Milton: Hey, gorgeous. Can you see if you can change your flight tomorrow for an earlier one? I can pay for the difference. I want you to drive down to the Poconos for the farewell dinner. The partners want to meet you.

Relief washed over me, followed by retreat, leaving concern and a nervous energy behind. I should have called Milton and let him know about the end of our situationship, but a face-to-face conversation was the least I owed him. Now the procrastination meant I needed to open the subject, and suddenly, the rum made its presence known, the entire sky rotating against me, the floor shifting and vibrating under me. Stability. I needed an anchor, and my hand shot out in search of the first solid anything I could find. My hand landed on a firm, rigid surface and once my eyesight cleared, Orlando stood next to me, keeping me upright.

“You good?” he asked in a clipped tone.

“Yuuuup.” Oops, that took much longer to say than usual.

“Okay, here, sit down.” My feet obeyed his command instead of the ones I sent via my brain. My stomach cartwheeled, and I was grateful for the idea of sitting down. Sitting down was good. Chairs were excellent.

“Who invented chairs? Lord knows, but great, great call.”

“I don’t know who invented chairs, Trinidad.” Orlando’s beautiful face was right in front of me. I leaned over to give him a kiss, but air greeted me instead. Wasn’t his face just there, just now? “Aren’t you going to answer the text?”

“Text? What text?” I asked, my brain, trying to reach an understanding and failing spectacularly.

“Orlando, she’s lit. You gotta give her a second,” a lilting voice said, and I shook my head in agreement until my head told me to stop because it hurt too much.

“She was fine, not too long ago…” Was that shade? Did I detect shade in my man’s tone? What was going on?

“I think it hit her right now, probably standing up and everything, let’s give her a minute,” the voice urged Orlando. The voice of reason, listen to it, Orlando.

“Fine, that’s fine. I, fuck, I thought she and I were in alignment.”

“Now, wait a minute, don’t talk about me like I’m not here.” Ther’s andw’s gave me a hard time, and the vowels wanted to show off and elongate in my mouth. I should have stopped one drink ago.

“Fine then, let’s talk. Are you going to answer that text message? Why is that dude texting you?” Orlando’s clipped tones were not appreciated when my head wanted to run away from my body and leave the pain behind until things calmed down.

“Nah, I can’t have a conversation right now; I don’t even know what you mean. And you best get your tone straightened out!” Oops. This was the side of Hot Gyal I didn’t fully embrace with joy and happiness—the sassy, angry side. But Orlando had me confused, and I was not about to let him think he could talk to me any type of way. I had enough sense to understand he was upset, and I needed clarity.

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