Page 23 of Free to Fall

But what about the mornings

When you don’t wanna be seen?

We got silk sheets and secrets

Say it’s just fun but I feel it

We lie still but hearts race

Tangled in love we won’t face

If this ain’t real, then why does it burn?

Why do I stay, why can’t I learn?

We got silk sheets…

And a truth we both conceal

I leaned back after the last take, eyes closed, heart wide open. Averi looked at me like she was holding in a hundred questions. But she didn’t ask. She just said, “This album? Yeah. It’s gonna wreck people in the best way.”

I laughed under my breath. “Gotta wreck myself first, I guess.”

She gave me a look that said she understood more than I realized.

When we wrapped, I hugged her tight and told her I’d text later. I had a grocery list to tackle and a man to cook for. Whatever this was between me and Nasseem, it might still be hidden, still undefined, still fragile. But it was real. And I wasn’t ready to let go just yet.

On the way home, I stopped by Trader Joe’s, picking up ingredients for this honey-glazed salmon recipe I saw on TikTok. I threw in some fresh greens, potatoes to roast, and a bottle of wine I knew would go perfectly with dinner.

By the time I pulled into my driveway, the sky was starting to blush pink across the Hollywood Hills. Inside, the house welcomed me like it always did—quiet, tucked away, warm.

I changed into a fitted romper—comfortable but still cute—and tied my hair into a high ponytail. While the food cooked, I lit some candles, turned on some Ari Lennox in the background, and opened the wine to let it breathe.

The knock came just as I was finishing up the greens. I opened the door and there he was wearing a white tee, black jeans and carrying a duffle bag which was slung over his shoulder. Nasseem was grinning like he already knew how the night was gonna end and I couldn’t help the fact that my lips automatically reciprocated his grin in return.

“You really brought a bag,” I said, laughing.

“Told you I was.” He replied. I stepped aside, and he walked in, eyes scanning the place. This wasn’t his first time in my home, he’d been here with our friend group a time or two. “It smells amazing in here,” he said, dropping his bag by the door.

“I cooked.”

“You tryna marry me or somethin’?” he teased.

I rolled my eyes, but I was smiling. “Shut up and pour the wine.”

He followed me into the kitchen and did just that. We moved around each other like we’d done it a thousand times—him setting the table, me plating the food, both of us vibing to the music like we weren’t falling into something neither of us could stop.

We ate and we laughed. We flirted like it was second nature. And underneath it all… the current was still there. That pull, that gravity, that dangerous vibe we kept pretending we could ignore. But we couldn’t and we wouldn’t. Even if we didn’t say it out loud yet. We were already too deep.

8

NASSEEM

Somehow, being at her place felt different than her being at mine. Don’t get me wrong—she looked good in my space. Barefoot in my T-shirt, leaning on the counter like she belonged there. Like I could come home from a workout, find her lighting candles and bossing me around, and wouldn’t even blink twice. That shit? That felt right.

But being in her space, that was something else. The minute she opened the door, that soft-ass scent she wore hit me square in the chest. Lavender and clean linen or whatever the fuck that magic was. Candles lit, food simmerin’, music low. She was doing it like it wasn’t nothin’—like having me there was normal now. And maybe it was, or maybe that’s just what I wanted it to be.

She handed me a plate and kicked off her slides, moving through her house like a woman who was finally comfortable lettin’ me in. Literally and figuratively.

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