chapter 1: nia
the first look
The gallery is louder than it needs to be.
i’ve learned, over time, to recognize the difference between real enjoyment and the kind people perform for each other. this party, tonight, is the latter. it’s obvious in the slightly too loud laughter, the way people lean in just a little too eagerly, and every conversation these people seem to have are more about impression than connection.
it’s tired. i’m over it.
i can’t even remember why i agreed to come to this thing. how did sasha drag me into this? oh, who am i kidding? sasha’s dream has always been to curate a collection and have it showcased in new york city. of course i’d agreed to come.
i hold my wine glass near my chest, not because i want it – hell i don’t even like wine, but it gives my hands somewhere to rest. otherwise, they’d just be flapping and fidgeting all over the place and we can’t have that. there is a particular discipline in appearing present while allowing your mind to drift elsewhere, and it’s one i’ve perfected. it serves me well in rooms like this.
it serves me well at home, too.
“are you enjoying yourself?”
i turn toward the voice, already assembling the appropriate expression before i fully register the face. he’s smiling in that polite, expectant way. he’s looking at me like my answer will confirm something for him.
all these people do is play games and put on airs.
“of course,” i say, returning the smile with just enough warmth to make it believable. “it’s a beautiful event.”
the response lands exactly where it needs to. he nods, satisfied, and turns away, already in search of his next exchange.
i exhale, small and quiet, reclaiming the space he’s left behind. i hate social gatherings with strangers. i may be the wife of a local politician which always has me at shindigs like this one, but there are very few things that i hate more than shit like this.
breathe, girl. breathe. as i close my eyes to inhale, the hairs on the back of my neck stands up. bristling, i turn on my heels to flash a radiant smile at whoever it is behind me.
“excuse me, where can i find–”
“i don’t work here– i’m just black.” i cut her off before she’s able to finish her question.
fuck. this night is going to require some reinforcements. i told myself i wouldn’t drink tonight since bryan and i finally decided to start trying to have a baby, but i’ll just have to give it up another night. i look through the crowds in search of a bar or someone walking around for drink orders. something.
and then i notice him.
he’s standing across the room, slightly removed from everything without seeming out of place. that’s what catches me first. it’s not what he’s doing, but what he isn’t. he isn’t performing. he isn’t scanning for the next person to impress or the next conversation to enter.
he’s just there.
still. present. uninterested in pretending otherwise.
i don’t mean to stare. at least, that’s what i tell myself at first. but something about him holds my attention in a way i can’t immediately explain.
i mean, yeah, he’s sexy as fuck. 6’3” from the looks of it, solid slim build with muscles you just want to hold on to, an ass for grabbing, a visible and gratifying bulge poking through his tailored pants, and tattoos –omg–they’re everywhere. yeah, this man is big sexy, but it’s something else. something quieter, sharper.
recognition, maybe?
i can’t explain it, but it feels like i’m supposed to know him.
as if he feels it, feels me, he turns.
our eyes meet.
for a moment—too long to be a mere accident—we simply look at each other. there’s no polite smile, no softening of the moment to make it easier to dismiss. just a steady, deliberate awareness.
i know what i’m supposed to do. look away. reset the boundary. minimize the interaction. but something about this man and the way he’s just drinking me in, has my curiosity piqued. i want to see what he’ll do with it.
something shifts in his face—not surprise, not exactly, but it kind of feels like he’s sizing me up. like he understanding that this—whatever this is—has already crossed into something intentional and now he needs to figure out what to do next.
a second passes.
then someone walks between us, and the moment breaks.
i blink and the room starts rushing back in all at once—the noise, the movement, the expectations i had briefly forgotten. i honestly forgot i was in this gallery with all these phony ass people.
my grip tightens slightly around the stem of my glass.
i tell myself it was nothing.
but the thought doesn’t quite settle.
because underneath it, if i’m being real with myself, is the feeling i can’t ignore:
i shouldn’t have held his gaze like that.
Oh what are we about to get into 👀