Page 141 of IRL: In Real Life
Mostly.
That was progress.
I stood in front of my mirror in a black halter dress that fit close through my waist and hips and made my legs look like I had paid extra for them. My pixie was laid close and glossy, auburn and bronze catching softly when I turned my head. Gold hoops. Bangles. Body oil worked into my skin until it looked kissed by light. Ruby Woo on my lips. Perfume that stayed close until a man had done enough to deserve it.
I wasn’t dressing for a first impression. Micah already knew what I looked like. Already knew what my body felt like.
Already knew what my mouth sounded like when it forgot to behave.
Now I was dressing for a man who had gotten used to all that and still looked at me like it kept surprising him.
That did something to a woman.
My phone buzzed on the vanity.
Micah: I’ll be there in five, baby.
My mouth curved before I could stop it.
Me: You sound like you’ve missed me.
His answer came quick.
Micah: Always.
The night air had a little late-summer softness to it when I stepped outside. Not cool. Just forgiving enough to make bare shoulders feel intentional.
Micah was already at the curb, one forearm thrown over the steering wheel, low top neat, fade sharp, diamond stud catching the streetlight when he looked up and saw me coming.
He got out before I reached the car.
“Damn,” he said softly.
I smiled because honestly, a woman could get spoiled if a man did that every time he saw her.
“That’s all?”
“That’s what survived.”
He took my hand, turned me once like he had a private right to inspect the work, then pulled me in close enough to kiss the corner of my mouth before opening the door.
The place he took me sat high enough over Downtown to make the city feel almost arranged for us. Not rooftop exactly, but all windows and low amber light and the kind of room that made people sit a little nearer each other because the atmosphere had already decided intimacy was the point.
We got drinks first. A lemon drop for me. Bourbon for him.
The first half hour went easy, like it always did now. Work stories. A stupid post from The Link Up that had both of us rolling our eyes. A little teasing. A little real talking tucked under it.
He told me one of his cousins had already asked if he was bringing “his little internet friend” to the next family thing, and I laughed so hard I almost spilled my drink.
“I’m your internet friend? Ouch.”
“That’s family for you. Blame Ciara. She’s the one thinking she knows everything and spreading it.”
I thought about my own family for a moment.
“Nicole would be the same way if she wasn’t always busy with Jalen and the kids. Even now, I’m hoping she can do Labor Day with us, but she said all those years of spending more holidays with our side have her trying to create balance.” I lifted one shoulder. “Whatever that means.”
There was no sadness in my voice.
