Page 10 of Smoke After Hours

Stryker smirked, looking from me to Volley as he lifted his hands in the air. “My bad, bruh. I just thought that if she were my woman, I’d claim her so no other bastard would dare to even think he has a chance.”

“Nobody can claim her but her,” Volley spat, stepping closer to Stryker. “You were hired to do a damn job. So less flirting and more prepping for tonight.”

Stryker didn’t back down from Volley, shaking his head as he said, “Tulia. Umejeruhiwa sana.”

My lips parted. “You know Swahili?”

Stryker smirked. “Among other things.”

“What did you say?”

“I told him to chill. He’s wound too tightly.”

“Endelea kunijaribu uone kitakachotokea,” Volley replied, before saying in English, “Keep testing me and see what happens.”

“You mad at the wrong one,” Stryker stated with a laugh. “If I’m making Bentley uncomfortable, I’ll stop. But I think you need to ask yourself if I crossed a line, why is she flirting back?”

A subtle smile played at the corners of my lips when I lowered my head.I did enjoy flirting with Stryker, but mainly it was because I liked to see the jealous side of Volley. Especially since our time together was coming to an end soon.

It had been like that between us for years. I loved watching him watch me from across the room. When he was engrossed in conversation with someone else, his attention was always somehow focused on me, aware of my gaze the moment it landed on him.

Early on, he had the talk with me about not being able to pursue me while he was responsible for my safety. I couldn’t help but feel a pang of longing deep every time he reminded me of that. And the reminders weren’t always with his words, but his actions.

I knew it was immature, but the desire to make him notice me burned like a flame in my chest. I wanted to get in trouble, and I wanted him to be the one to deliver the punishment. So, often times, I turned my attention to another man by leaning in a little closer, laughing a little louder, letting my touch linger just a little longer than necessary.

It was all the game we played. A way to provoke a reaction from Volley and make him act on our mutual attraction. For a moment in his frustration, I felt seen, acknowledged, desired.And not just as Bentley Blackwood, but as Mia Kassa. My birth name.

For that fleeting moment, I wasn’t the girl who had to give up her entire life, and the thrill I got from his eyes reprimanding me outweighed any guilt of my actions. But beneath the façade of confidence, there was always a flicker of uncertainty that maybe I was playing with fire. That the thrill of the chase and the intoxicating game of ‘will we or won’t we’ was never ending.

I kept my mouth shut, but the rest of the tour was awkward as hell after that. Except the parts were Volley’s eyes tracked my every move.

My every step.

five

HOP STOP #3 – Burn Out Blast: A viewing of the movie,How High, featuring Method Man and Redman.

VOLLEY

I was pissed.All fucking day I had to watch the tattoo guys shamelessly flirt with Bentley as if they didn’t see me standing right by her. The workshop had been cool, but I couldn’t get past my annoyance at how ol’ dude kept thinking he could try me.

“You good, Mr. B?” Santiago asked, coming to lean besides me against the wall as the High Hoppers finished the workshop. Santiago and his friend, Nova, were a couple of our youngest High Hoppers and were college students from NYU. On the flight to Michigan, Bentley and I had been seated next to the two of them and had hit it off.

“Stop calling me that shit,” I spat. “Call me Volley or V.”

Santiago raised his hands in defeat, an amused smile on his face. “My bad. Nova calls Bentley Ms. B and you’re just always by Ms. B’s side, so it’s stuck in my head now.”

I frowned, pinning him with a hard stare.

His smile dropped. “Note taken. V it is.” He wasn’t silent for more than two seconds before he asked me if I was okay again.

“I’m good,” I lied, not offering more than that.

Santiago laughed. “Dude, you suck at lyin’. You can’t stop looking at Ms. B, and no one can ignore how hard up the instructor is for her.”

“Tell me about it,” I mumbled under my breath, clenching my jaw when Bentley laughed at whatever the bootlegged island version of me was saying.

“Are you and Ms. B kickin’ it?”

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