Page 6 of In Another Time

It wasn’t just that she was beautiful—though God knows, she was. It was the way she carried herself, like she owned every inch of the room without even trying. She had this confidence about her, the kind that didn’t need loud outfits or flashy jewelry to announce itself. Her blazer, black dress, and heels spoke volumes all on their own: sharp, sophisticated, and tolerated absolutely no bullshit.

She had that “dragged here against my will” energy written all over her face, but that didn’t make her any less stunning. If anything, the faint crease of irritation on her brow only made me more curious.

I’d been working hard to get The Velvet Note up and running for almost a year, and hosting an open mic night was a goal ofmine. Nights like this were what I lived for—the hum of jazz in the background, the soft murmur of conversation, and the glow of candles flickering against dark wood tables.

This place was my heart and soul, born out of years of dreaming, hustling and saving. I’d spent my twenties hugging the block and chasing women who never stuck around.

By the time I hit thirty something, I was tired of it all—the grind, the fleeting connections, the feeling that I wasn’t building anything real. So, I decided to go all in. I took everything I had, every penny I’d saved, and poured it into this club, a space where people could come to feel something—joy, sorrow, hope, love, whatever they needed.

But tonight, as I watched Lennox from across the room, I realized I’d never felt this particular kind of energy before. It was like I could feel her presence, even when she wasn’t looking my way.

I waited until the timing felt right—until our eyes met across the room—and then I motioned for her to meet me at the bar. She hesitated, of course. I could see the wheels turning in her mind, calculating all the reasons she shouldn’t come over. But then she stood, smoothing her blazer, and started walking my way.

Every step she took felt deliberate, like she was trying to decide if she was making a mistake. By the time she reached the bar and our conversation began, I already knew I liked her.

“So, did Sherelle really have to drag you out tonight?”

“Yep,” she said simply, nodding toward Sherelle. “She’s been trying to get me to ‘loosen up’ since forever.”

“She’s got good instincts,” I said, smiling. “This seems like the perfect place to loosen up.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” she said, her tone light but with an undercurrent I couldn’t quite place.

“And why is that?”

“Because this isn’t really my scene,” she admitted. “Don’t get me wrong—it’s beautiful here. Congrats on everything. But I’m not exactly the sit-and-sip-wine-while-listening-to-jazz type.”

I raised an eyebrow. “And what type are you?” She opened her mouth to answer, then closed it again, like she wasn’t sure how to respond. “Let me guess,” I said, leaning in slightly. “The type who spends so much time working that you’ve forgotten how to have fun. How to live.”

She gave me a sharp look, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “And what makes you such an expert?”

“I’ve been there,” I said simply. “I used to be all about the hustle, trying to prove something to everyone around me. It’s exhausting.”

“And now?” she asked, her voice softer now.

“Now, I do this,” I said, gesturing around the room. “I’ve worked hard to create a space where people can come to feel something real. To connect. To vibe. That’s what matters to me now.”

She studied me for a long moment, like she was trying to decide whether to believe me. “You’re different,” she said finally.

“Is that a good thing?” I asked.

Her smile was faint, but it was there. “I haven’t decided yet.”

LENNOX

Icouldn’t get him out of my head.

Omir. His name alone felt like it was meant to be whispered or sung. His voice, that low, melodic tone, lingered in my mind long after our conversation ended. And then there was the way he looked at me—steady, deliberate, as though he already knew me and was simply waiting for me to catch up.

But it wasn’t just his words or his presence that had me so tangled up. It was the fire beneath it all, the quiet intensity that crackled between us. I hadn’t felt anything like it in years, maybe ever. And though I told myself it was nothing more than harmless flirtation, the truth was far less innocent.

I couldn’t stop thinking about his lips.

The way they moved when he spoke, how they curved into that knowing smile, as if he had already seen the end of this storyand was perfectly fine waiting for me to figure it out. I wondered, briefly, what it would feel like to close the space between us, to press my lips to his and let the world around us dissolve.

“Girl, you zoning out over there again?”

Sherelle’s voice snapped me back to reality, and I blinked, trying to shake the warmth spreading through me.

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