Page 11 of IRL: In Real Life
“Against my better judgment.”
“That’s usually when your life improves.”
I shook hands, nodded at the couple, accepted a clap on the shoulder from a dude I recognized from three different panel photos and one disastrous thread about homeownership, then let my gaze move.
This was the part I never admitted I still enjoyed, no matter how tired I claimed to be of all of this.
The room before it settled into itself. The first scan. The quiet little thrill of possibility moving through the air before anybody said the wrong thing.
Faces I knew from profile pictures floated into recognition one by one. Some matched. Some almost did. Some didn’t enough for me to waste a full thought on the disappointment.A woman from Threads waved. Somebody else from Facebook smiled too hard. Two women I’d seen under the same event flyer looked over together, then away when I didn’t hold it.
Typical.
I took the old fashioned Devon handed me and turned slightly toward the bar, letting my eyes move over the room without searching too hard for anything in particular.
That was when I saw her.
At first, it was only her profile. One hand lifted while she laughed at something the woman beside her said. Gold at her ears. A pixie cut catching auburn every time she moved beneath the light. A black dress fitted where it needed to be, skimming her body like it knew better than to beg for attention and still collected every bit of mine. Pale, bright nails curved around the stem of her glass.
Then she turned.
The first thing that hit me was relief.
She looked like herself.
In a world where half the people you met online showed up carrying a completely different face into real life, Talia Vaughn looked exactly like the woman I’d seen in pictures and somehow more alive than all of them. Same face. Same mouth. Same observant light in her eyes that made her comments feel like they came with a raised brow.
Talia Vaughn.
I knew the face. Of course I did.
The first time I really noticed her had been under some thread about dating, delusion, and Black professionals embarrassing themselves in public. Half the comments were predictable. Too polished. Too loud. Too eager to sound right. Then Talia dropped in with one dry little line that cut through all of it, and I remember thinking two things at once: she was fine, and she had actual sense.
After that, I started noticing her more.
The half-smile in pictures where she looked like somebody had caught her between thoughts. The humor that landed better on Twitter than it ever did in the Facebook group, probably because she didn’t have to soften the edges over there. The way she could say something light and still leave a little sting in it when the conversation deserved one.
On Threads, she had the kind of presence that made people feel like they knew her. A few soft pictures. A few funny observations. Enough opinion to remind you she had a mind of her own, but never enough access to make you think she was careless with herself.
I kept my distance anyway.
I had already learned what screens could do for a person. Beauty online didn’t mean much by itself anymore, and chemistry in comments damn sure wasn’t enough to trust.
None of that had prepared me for her body in motion.
Or the way her face changed when she laughed in real life.
Or how obvious it was that everything about her had been chosen with intention, from the dress to the angle of her earrings to the way she stood there with one hip settled like she knew her body, liked her body, and had no need to convince anybody else to agree.
She was fine in a way that didn’t ask permission.
I took a sip from my glass because my body had already started responding, a low pull of awareness moving through me before I could talk it down. I was too grown to be standing in the middle of a crowded room acting like attraction had never found me before, but Talia Vaughn had my attention in a way that made stillness feel like effort.
Devon followed my line of sight and let out a low sound.
“Oh.”
I didn’t look at him. I should have, just to keep from making it obvious, but my eyes stayed where they were.
