Page 59 of 1001 Dark Nights: Bundle Forty-Two

Naz’s handsome face keeps crowding my thoughts. Thatkiss—hot, commanding, tender—has me shook. Left mewanting something I can’t quite put my finger on, no pun intended. It’s morethan just sex. It’s curiosity. It’s fascination.Excitement. I can’t name all the emotions Naz sparked in me last night, but Iknow they picked up from where they left off that night so many years ago. Wetalked and made out that night, sure, but we were just kids. Last night—thatwas some grown folks shit, and I’ve rarely—if ever—feltan attraction that intense.

My phone on the bedside table rings, jarring me from thesmutty mire of my thoughts. I unplug it from the charger and bring it to myear, not bothering to check who’s calling.

“Hello,” I yawn into the phone, swiping a hand down my faceand frowning at the black and fuchsia smears on my palm. I broke the cardinalrule of makeup removal last night.

“Me sistah,” Janice, my eldestsibling, drawls from the other line, exaggerating her island lilt. She actually does have a little bit left from living in Trinidadlonger than I did and learning to talk while she was there. “What are you doingthis fine morning?”

“Nothing much.” I sit up and prop my back against theheadboard. “Just laying around, looking like yesterday.”

“How’d the fashion show go? You see any celebrities?”

“A few. I met Lotus Ross, of course.”

“I love her stuff.”

“Same.” I lick my lips before going on. “There were lots ofbasketball players there. Her husband, Kenan, had recruited a lot of hisfriends, so I met a few ballers.”

I pause, tugging the sheet up to cover my breasts. I’venever told Janice about that one night with Naz. I was especially hesitant whenit became clear what a sore subject he became for Cliff, and by extension, therest of my family.

“You know this old married lady lives vicariously throughyou, Tee. Please tell me you smashed some rich, famous, fine-ass baller.”

I get out of bed, slipping a short silk robe on over mythong. Leaving it to hang open, I pad barefoot to the kitchen.

“How about a kiss?” I ask, not sure how much I should tellher or how she’ll respond. She knows as well as I do how Cliff feels about Naz.

“Who was it? Anybody I know?”

“Um…” I start my coffee machine.“Nazareth Armstrong?”

For a few extended seconds, the drip of my coffee is theonly sound. Is she even breathing?

“Hellooo?” I ask, forcing a laugh.“Is this thing on?”

“You saw Naz? You kissed Naz?”

“Wasn’t the first time,” I mutter,fitting the phone between my ear and shoulder to grab yogurt from the fridge.

“What does that mean? What you ’bout, Tee?”

“The night before the championship game, Cliff had the teamover for dinner.”

“Yeah, and?”

“That’s the night I met Naz, and something clicked with us.We talked for hours up on the roof.”

“And you kissed him?”

“Yeah, and it was like… I don’t know. Girl, it was likemagic.” I chuckle self-consciously, knowing how fanciful I must sound to mynotoriously pragmatic older sister.

“Why am I just now hearing ’bout this?”

“Really, Neecey? Naz’s name wasmud in our house. It’s not like he and I had a relationship. We had aconnection. It felt real and good and like potential, but after what happened,I couldn’t do that to Cliff.”

“And you just ran into him at the show after all this time?”

“I literally tripped and fell into his arms.” I pour agenerous serving of coffee in one of my many Breakfast at Tiffany’s mugs,this one sporting a sketch of Holly Golightly wearing her sleep mask.

“And you got to talk after the show?”