Sativa Nights

A Short Story

Just a heads-up before you dive in: this story includes adult situations, smoking, drinking, sexual content, and mature themes. Please read responsibly.

~

 It was something about the feeling of Zion’s arm wrapped around my waist, firm and possessive, as our bodies moved in sync to the rhythm of the song that blared through the speakers. I could feel the pressure of him against my ass, thick and unapologetic, while his breath ghosted over my neck before he buried his face there. 

The scent of his cologne drifted up, warm, woody, and relaxing. His hands came up, red cup sloshing a bit, while mine slid around his neck, pulling him closer, for leverage. If I had let him go, I might have drifted smooth out of my body. I took a slow and long drag from the blunt I was holding.

He was tall as hell behind me, towering with broad shoulders. A few of his curly locs fell into my line of sight as I leaned back against his chest, letting his body steady me.

He used his index finger to tip my chin upward in his direction, our eyes locked, and his were dark and heavy. His mouth just barely an inch away from mine, I let the smoke roll off my lips, watching it leave my mouth. He caught it, lips slightly parting, pulling it in deep.

He blew it back at my face. 

The bass thumped through the floor, sending a vibration to my ribs, but Zion kept us both moving. 

Wild part? I didn’t know this man from a can of paint.

I had just met him about an hour ago.

I had no clue how a simple conversation over a cup of jungle juice led me to…this. His arm locked around my hips, ass pressed into him, like I’d known him for more than a singular night.

“You came here by yourself?” he asked, voice low against my ear.

“Yeah,” I said, glancing back at him.

“A little dangerous, don’t you think?” he questioned.

“I’m a big girl,” I said, a smile tugging at my lips. “I can handle myself.”

His hand slid a little lower on my waist, pulling me tighter with a quick jerk. “I bet you won’t be leaving the same way.”

I laughed. I wasn’t a party girl, but I was tired of sitting in my boring ass dorm every weekend doom scrolling until my thumb ached. 

The purpose of coming to college was to let go of the timid high schooler and break into a newer version of myself. 

I was in a new city, surrounded by new people. I was already one semester down, and it was past time to introduce the campus to whoever I was supposed to be now. 

Somehow, that mission had landed me here. In the middle of an overly crowded frat house, pressed against a man that I did not know, letting him hold me like he did, like I was his, and I was enjoying every bit of it. Still, I couldn’t shake the cringe that occasionally pinged in my gut. The constant whisper of what the fuck was I doing?

In one swift motion, Zion spun me around on my toes so that I was facing him, and my breasts pushed up against his broad chest. His stare pinned me in place, and for a second, I felt myself slip sideways. 

“You good?” his voice cut back in, softer this time.

I inhaled the blunt, refocusing on him. It felt like I had to take a step back into my body just to respond. 

“Of course,” I said, casual. 

He lifted my hand holding the blunt to his mouth and took a pull while keeping that same intense eye contact. Again, he blew the smoke back at me. I blinked it out of my eyes but breathed it all in.

A girl's laughter caused me to glance over my shoulder. There were no sharp edges around the room anymore, and every color bled into the next like wet paint. The bodies that moved around us were nothing but silhouettes beneath the faded colors.

When I turned back to him, the haze from the room had drifted between us. I blinked hard, trying to focus on his face, but the smoke had blurred his features. 

The white noise around us started to bend. The bass dragged slowly through the room, having to travel a journey to reach me. Somebody turned the volume down in reality.

The feeling of Zion’s thumb tracing a slow line along my side and the flash of his gold grill when he smiled snatched me back in.

“You faded?” he asked, leaning down into my ear.

“A little,” I admitted.

That was the simple truth.

I was high as fuck, but I was…off overall.

My body was physically doing everything right. I was laughing, dancing, leaning into him like I was supposed to. The emotional feeling, though… that part hadn’t quite caught up yet.

“I can tell,” he said, a hint of a smile in his tone.

“How?”

I looked up at him. He wore a small smirk, “Cause you not here right now.” He tightened his grip on my waist. “You quiet.”

Hell yeah, I was quiet because everything in my damn head was so loud.

I watched his mouth move for a second too long before I realized he had stopped talking.

Another delay.

“You listening to me?” he asked.

No.

My fingers were curled into his shirt, holding onto him, maybe a little too tight. I was trying to convince myself that I actually was still there.

His eyes narrowed down at me. “You always think this much?” he asked, eyes studying me.

I exhaled a gentle laugh. “Are you reading me?”

“You’re kinda easy to read.”

I didn’t know if I should have taken that as an insult or a compliment; it did neither. It just made my chest feel empty.

“I’m not easy,” I said, but there wasn’t much weight behind it.

His head tilted slightly, and that same stupid grin came back.

“Well, shawty you ain't that hard to read either.”

My words escaped me. I could do nothing but take another puff.

The lights flickered again, casting his face in red, the dark shadows sharpening his mannish features. His jaw, cheekbones, and the slight glint of his grill when he parted his lips. 

His eyes darkened.

He looked unreal…dangerous even.

My mind tried to make sense of what I was seeing. A part of me was trying to convince the other that I should step back.

Instead, I leaned closer, tightening the grasp I had on his shirt. My eyes traced his face, trying to memorize it before it shifted again

I knew this version of him wasn’t fixed.

“You see it?” he mumbled. 

What was it? Even his voice sounded different. A deeper octave touched with amusement.

I blinked.

“What?”

His hand came up, and he brushed his thumb slowly along my jawline. My body betrayed me instantly. I melted into his touch.

“I can tell,” he said. “You not too sure what you lookin at anymore.”

I swallowed hard because I wasn’t.

The strobe lights flickered again, changing to a brighter yellowish hue, but it did nothing for what I was looking at.

He still looked… sharper. He was the only solid object in the room that kept slipping away.

“You look different,” slipped out before I could help it.

A slow smile dragged across his face, but it didn’t reach his eyes. A deep chuckle sent a vibration up my spine.

“Yeah?” he asked. “How so?”

I paused. Scary wasn’t the word, but it was the only word that made sense to use at the same time.

“Like…” I exhaled softly, shaking my head trying to shake the image that I had created in my mind. “Like I should probably back up as far as possible?”

He pressed into me.

“And will you?” he asked quietly.

I studied those dark eyes with no clue what I was looking for.

A warning, a red flag, maybe some proof that I still had some good sense. It was like I was trying to find the story buried behind his eyes, but they told me nothing.

All I found was heat.

I shook my head. He chuckled because he already knew what my answer was gonna be. “Yeah,” he mumbled. “That’s what I thought.”

The bass dropped again, heavy, and the light seemed to hold steady above us.

Somewhere beneath the music, the weed, and the reckless thrill of it all…that little voice in the back of my mind kept screaming for me to walk away.

I didn’t, though.

Because whoever Zion was… or whatever this was, it made me want to know how far I could fall.

Zion’s hand slid from my waist to my hand, fingers intertwining with mine. He gave a slight tug not forcefully, but just enough to guide me. 

“C’mon,” he said.

“Where?” I asked, even though I allowed him to guide me.

He glanced back at me, that same knowing look.

“You trust me?”

I swallowed, then nodded.

Why I was trusting this man I didn’t know, but my gut wasn’t telling me not to.

The crowd parted around us in sections, bodies bumping past one another, voices clashing, heat sticking to my skin. So much noise.

His hand stayed in mine the whole time, giving me the sense of security that I had been missing for way too long.

We pushed through the front door, and the second the cool night air hit me, everything shifted.

The sharp wind sent goosebumps up my arms and cut through the lingering haze, making me take in a deep breath. The fresh air felt good entering my lungs. I don’t think I had done that since I had set foot in that party.

The bass dulled to a low thud behind us, replaced with the light chatter of the small crowd that had also drifted outside.

Zion didn’t let go.

“You okay?” he asked, looking down at me.

“Yeah,” I replied, even though at that moment I wasn’t fully certain what good truly meant.

The streetlights cast a softer glow than the hard LED’s inside. In that glow, he became himself again. The fine ass man that I had bumped into in the overly congested kitchen. A more subtle appeal. His features were the same, but they read differently. Nothing told me to back away from this version of him. 

“So what now?” I asked.

“You comfortable with going somewhere a little less… rowdy?” He asked. “I mean, you don’t have to, I know…”

“Let’s go,” I interrupted him.

Normally, this would be the moment to pause, to think, but the part of me that cared about caution was already slipping behind. Trust came so easily with him, not to mention the curiosity that plagued me. Plus… taking risks was the whole point of it, right?

Trusting Zion felt like the right type of risk.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“Do you trust me?” He raised a brow.

There was that damn question again. One flash of that grill and those maddeningly soft eyes, and I was folding all over again. Practically drooling over his fine ass.

He led me off the porch and down the street lined with parked cars.

“My car’s right up here,” he motioned.

“Are you okay to drive?” I asked, using the little bit of sense the good Lord gave me. I hadn’t drunk anything all night, which was what ignited our conversation about the Jungle Juice that I didn’t trust. 

“I’m good,” he said. “I barely had half a cup of juice. I promise I’d never put myself or anyone else in danger like that.”

I nodded. His cool and assertive demeanor instantly put my mind at ease.

He opened the passenger door for me and I froze, just long enough for me to possibly change my mind, but I didn’t. I slid into the seat. He closed the door and just like that, the party was an afterthought.

Zion circled around, getting in beside me. The space around us was tighter now, but also quieter, calmer.

The engine hummed as he started it up and pulled away from the curb. I watched the house party disappear through the side mirror, while also catching a quick glimpse of my own reflection. 

For a second, I barely recognized her.

My slick-back puff was still neatly intact. My makeup- light, but very intentional, still flawless.

But my eyes told something different.

There was a split. One version of me was sitting in this passenger seat, chasing freedom, curiosity, and thrill.

The other version of me was staring back from that mirror, watching everything I was trying not to feel. She was the one overthinking. The one questioning and silently dissecting every reckless decision I’d made since stepping into that frat house.

I was just…here.

I was floating somewhere between impulse and detachment.

I blinked, and dropped back in again.

Slightly numb. I didn’t know what the hell we had been smoking, but whatever it was had my mind suspended somewhere between Zion’s passenger seat and somewhere I couldn’t name.

“You think way too much,” he dragged out.

His voice pulled me back. 

“Who said I was thinking?” I asked, with a slight smirk.

His eyes flickered towards me then back to the road. His left arm rested on the steering wheel, right hand drumming against the center console.

“You're quiet,” he glanced at me. “Which means you're thinking.”

“What’s wrong with me thinking?” I asked.

“That means you're not letting the high do what it's supposed to do.”

My brows pressed together.

I studied his side profile, taking his nearly perfect sepia complexion. The high was doing exactly what it was supposed to do. I just couldn’t name exactly what it was doing.

The car slowed, and I could hear the gravel crackling beneath the tires. 

“We’re here,” he said, throwing the car in park.

He pulled a Backwood from the side of his door and got rolling. 

I looked around at the scenery around us. We had only traveled to the opposite side of campus to the popular overlook of downtown.

A secluded, but daily popular area known as the pit. It was the best view of the entire city. People often came here just to chill or would make the long hike during the day.

Zion cut the engine, and the silence that followed was heavier than the music at the party ever was.

The downtown city lights stretched below us, lights blinking sporadically in the distance. The Pit was one of the perks of attending the college on the hill. 

I let my head fall back against the headrest.

I chose to come to college because I thought it would give me the freedom that I wanted so badly. I thought that not having to answer to my parents would feel different. I was under the impression that I’d step on campus, find my people, find my place, and it would all…click.

Going into my second semester though, I was still the same girl I was from day one.

Instead of staying close to home or joining some of my friends at their universities, I wanted, no fuck that, I needed the distance to figure my shit out.

I was starting to regret that decision.

I could see the flicker of the lighter off the corner of my eye.

He took a pull, the tip glowing as he relaxed back in his seat.

The silence between us didn’t feel so empty though.

He exhaled slowly, smoke curling toward the ceiling.

“Get out your head, shawty,” he broke the silence.

I glance at him, “I'm not in my head, Zion.”

“Girl, yes you are,” he said, taking one more drag.  “I told ya, you’re easy to read. Whatever it is that you’re trying to hide is written all over your face.”

I let out a small breath, something between a laugh and a sigh.

“And what exactly is my face saying?”

“A lot,” he held the blunt out to me.

When I took it from him, our fingers brushed, sending a jolt through my body.

“I’m just tired of feeling so out of place,” I admitted, eyes dropping before I brought the blunt to my lips.

He studied my every move with a sideways look.

When I exhaled, he nodded slightly.

“Yeah, one hunderd.”

His response earned him a chuckle.

I glanced over at him, curiosity taking hold. “You feel the same?”

He leaned back, eyes drifting to his reflection in the visor, but his stare was vacant. 

“You can say that,” he muttered.

I could have sworn I saw a break in his armor for just a half-second.

“What does that mean?” I asked, wanting to pry a little more.

“I'm more than what meets the eye,” he said. “As I know you are too.”

“Hmm,” I shifted in my seat. “Keep talking. I’m listening.”

I pulled another hit from the blunt before passing it back to him. I held the smoke in my lungs long enough to feel my chest start to tighten before slowly releasing it into the air above me. I watched it circle above my head like a halo.

The windows had already fogged up from the haze, and I could feel my shirt start to stick to my back from the heat trapped in the car.

He pulled down his overhead vanity mirror, looking at himself. A smug expression spread across his face in admiration. His fingers traced his goatee. 

“Shawty, I’d never be able to put into words what I am.” When he looked at me, his eyes had dropped, and he had such a stoic expression.

What stuck with me was the fact that he didn’t say who he was, but what he was. Flashes of him under the red light at the party ran through my mind. I blinked them away, turning back to the window.

My reflection was already staring directly at me, but when I looked away, I could still feel her eyes digging into me. A sense of unease crept up the back of my neck, but I snapped my attention back to Zion to be caught off guard by his dark eyes pinned to me. My heartbeat quickened, and butterflies took flight in the pit of my stomach. I wanted so badly to look away, but I could still feel the eyes of my reflection on me, too. I didn’t know where to look.

The pounding of my heartbeat had turned all the way up to the point I just knew he could hear it too. Keeping eye contact with him was better than looking back at that girl in the mirror.

The car shrank around us. I could only hear my own breathing.

“You know you gotta let go of whatever piece of yourself you're holding onto,” he said.

“What are you talking about?” I half laughed.

“I’ve been paying attention to you, mamas,” he puffed, then cleared his throat. “You look at yourself in the mirror, freeze, then turn away. You must not like what you see. So, what part of yourself are you trying to get rid of?”

I hadn’t even noticed I had been watching myself that much. His question sat in big bold letters at the top of my mind.

It hadn’t crossed my mind that finding myself in this new place would also mean getting rid of some aspect of myself.

“It comes to a point in everyone’s life when you’ll find yourself at war with another version of yourself.” Zion’s voice dropped, and he spoke much more slowly, deliberately. His eyes bore into me, causing a bit of unease to reach my chest. “The question is, which one survives?”

“The problem is I don’t really know which version of myself needs to go,” I stuttered. I think it was the somberness behind his tone and hollowness behind his eyes that had me so in my head.

His devious chuckle settled somewhere deep within me. “Yeah,” he said. “You do.”

“How are you gonna tell me?” I shot back.

His face remained expressionless, though. “Because I’m right here with you, and I know exactly what version of myself I have to destroy.”

“I'm sorry, but what kind of morbid shit is that?” I shifted in my seat, folding my arms across my chest.

This man in front of me… this gorgeous man was a mystery, an unsolvable puzzle. 

“You don’t need to know the depth of my reality,” he spoke. “Just know I understand exactly where your head is currently at.” He pointed to his temple with an inquisitive smirk.

Damn, he was so fine. His lashes were so long, and his skin was damn near flawless. I could only dream of having perfect features. God took his time creating this man, then licked his fingers clean when he was done.

“You like what you looking at?” he asked, making me blink back into reality. He was again watching himself in the vanity. I choked on the lingering smoke that was stuck in my chest.

“I…I wasn’t.” My words escaped me.

“You good shawty. I like what I see too.” He ran his tongue over his bottom lip before he looked at me, eyes roaming my face.

I could feel the distance between us closing, slowly. Our eyes were glued to one another.

His joker-like smirk was turning me every which way but loose. His mouth stopped not even an inch away from my lips. “Do what you've been wanting to do all night,” he spoke, voice now raspy and just above a whisper.

I raised an eyebrow. I knew exactly what he was alluding to, but how did he know what I wanted to do? Was it that obvious?

“What exactly do you think I want to do?”  I leaned back, just slightly, to open the small gap that he had created.

He laughed, cockiness mixed with humor.

“So we are gonna play that game?” he asked, in amusement.

“I’m sorry, Zion,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “What kind of impression of me did you have exactly?”

My body betrayed me, thighs pressing together, heat pooling low, tension building in a way I couldn’t hide.

He leaned back in his seat, and his smile hit first. Under the orange glow of the overhead light, it seemed to stretch a little too far, like he was holding back a joke that only he found funny. The gold in his grill against the random flickers of light turned into something both bright and dangerous. His lips curled higher. It could have been taken as a warning or an invitation, depending on how brave one felt.

The smoldering confidence in his demeanor told me that he’d already decided how the moment would end, and he was just enjoying my reaction.

“I told you, babygirl,” he said. His calling me babygirl rolled so gracefully off his tongue and made me feel so good. "It's not hard to read you, and your body language has been speaking to me all night.”

“Mhmm, that’s in that delusional ass brain of yours,” I said, returning his smirk.

I didn't even believe that because I knew.

I turned back to my reflection and was again caught by her eyes. They carried something painfully heavy.

My eyes flickered around, but hers once again stayed on me. A bead of sweat formed at my brow.

What the fuck were we smoking?

I wanted him. Bad.

I wanted to lean over, grab his face, and see if his lips tasted just as good as they looked.

But that… that would take me detaching from the version of myself that was locked in the mirror staring at me.

She was daring me to do it. Her expression gradually shifted to something smug. It’s like she knew I could never be bold enough to leap like that.

“Yeah, you're right. You aren’t bold enough to do it,” his low voice grumbled.

I gave myself whiplash with how fast I whipped my head in his direction.

“Did I say-”

“You didn’t have to say it out loud.” Our words overlapped each other.

“Let me show you something,” he leaned over close enough that his mouth was against the tip of my ear, but he looked at the reflection that was staring back at me. “What you keep looking at is that alternate version of yourself.” His voice was low, melodic, sending a quiver up my neck.

“I just see my reflection,” I steadied my breathing.

“Yeah?”

He took a pull from the blunt and blew the smoke across my face, but it did nothing to the reflection. The smoke lingered in my face, but was not reflected in the mirror. Even though I was moving, she wasn’t.

My stomach dropped, and my eyes darted between the mirror and Zion. He didn’t flinch.

“Zion, please tell me what is going on before I jump out of this car.” My hand hovered over the door handle, ready to take a run for it.

“Relax,” he spoke lowly. “We all have two versions of ourselves. They just don’t always agree.”

“Like good and evil?” I whispered, still locked in on her.

“Not that simple,” he said. “Think more like the concept of double consciousness.”

I let out a shaky breath. “I don’t think that’s what Du Bois meant,” I shook my head.

He let out a grumbling laugh that made my chest vibrate.

“It’s who you are versus who you allow yourself to be,” he said, pointing to the mirror. “That version? She plays shit safe. She follows the rules. She’s everything you were taught to be.”

Then he pointed at me.

“But this one?” His voice dipped. “She wants more. She’s chasing the thrill. She doesn’t scare easy.”

His words made me quiver.

Playing it safe was what I was running from.

Sitting right here, hot, hazy, way too close to a man I barely knew, was the freest I’d ever felt. It was also the most trapped I had ever felt.

“Get out of your head,” he said, again.

I looked at him. Really looked.

He was right. The only way to silence her was to choose me. I studied his eyes until mine dropped to his lips.

Before I could think myself out of it, I crashed my lips against his soft ones. The confidence in my movement caught both him and me off guard, but as our bodies relaxed and tongues found their rhythm, I could just faintly see the girl in the mirrors' lips curve into a smile.

The moment my lips touched his, everything else fell mute.

Not the occasional sound of the traffic below or the flickering of the headlights that were gliding past. 

It was everything inside me. I wasn’t overthinking anymore or hesitant because the fragmented version of myself was hovering nearby, analyzing the moment. 

Heat swept between us.

His mouth moved slowly against mine at first. I think he was giving me the space to change my mind.

I didn’t, though. I couldn’t.

I had taken the risk, and somehow it was working out. 

I broke away from his lips, chest rising and falling quickly. I was attempting to recompose myself. He rested his forehead against mine, and I looked into his brown eyes.

One of his hands came up, and his fingers grazed my cheek before resting there. I was still slipping in and out of myself.

“Damn,” I whispered. I wasn’t sure if I was talking to him or myself.

A low chuckle left him, his thumb rubbing softly against my cheek. 

“There you go,” he murmured.

His voice was that of a growl, but so satisfying.

I swallowed hard.

Then, my lips crashed against his again. This time, the kiss was heavier, hungrier. His hand traveled to my neck, giving it a gentle yet firm squeeze. That earned a light moan to slip from my mouth and into his.

My body was halfway across the center console, one knee pressing awkwardly against the seat as I chased his mouth.

The heated pull of his lips and the gentle touches from his hands were making it so much harder to remember why I had been fighting so hard to hold myself together.

“Shit,” Zion muttered, breath hot against my swollen lips.

His hand gripped me tighter, steadying me as I shifted again, clearly uncomfortable in the cramped front seat.

“This ain't gone work.” 

I let out a breathless laugh.

In one smooth motion, he moved his seat as far back as it would go and let the top half lie back so he leaned into the backseat, opening up a lot more space.

His dark eyes locked on mine.

“Come here,”

My stomach flipped just from the tone of his voice.

That other version of me stirred restlessly, waiting anxiously to see what my next move would be.

Zion’s hand slid slowly up my thigh, his gaze enough to send chills up my back.

Fuck it.

I climbed over the console, laughter and nervous energy tingling in my chest as he guided me into his lap.

The movement felt so clumsy, rushed, and my limbs felt too loose from the weed, but that feeling also made the moment feel that much more real.

Now the space between us was nonexistent, and the air on his side of the car was so much more charged. 

The streetlights filtered dimly through the tinted windows, casting dark shadows across his face as he looked up at me.

And Lord -

The way he was looking at me now was fueled with passion and desire. It was contagious, and I knew that look was being reciprocated on my end as well.

His hand braced both sides of my hips as I tried to find a comfortable spot, but it was hard because I could feel his print pressing into my inner thigh, and suddenly, the feel of him inside me was all I could think about.

“You okay?” He asked.

I nodded.

“I need words,” he spoke firmly.

“I’m okay,” I smiled as I leaned down, planting kisses along his collarbone and working my way to his lips.

His mouth moved against mine, deepening the kiss once again. His grip on my waist grew firmer, and I quickly realized that was my favorite feeling. His strong hands gripping my waist… yeah, that was it.

The subtle roll in my hips wasn’t intentional, but I couldn’t help it.

My breath hitched when he removed his mouth from mine and suctioned to the crook of my neck. 

Suddenly, that drifting sensation had returned, but this time it wasn’t pulling me away from myself. It felt like I was being dragged deeper in. Something like being pulled into the sunken place.

The cautious girl watching from the sidelines was fading slowly from my peripheral vision, but she was still there. 

My fingers entangled themselves in his locs as his mouth laid sweet kisses along my neck. He was moving with patience that felt more intoxicating than what we had been smoking.

There was no urgency in his movements. It was like he knew that unraveling me slowly would do far more damage.

And damn… he was right.

A quiet sound slipped from my lips, and my head tilted slightly when his mouth found the sensitive space just below my jaw.

The most disorienting part of it all was the way my body immediately reacted to his touch before my mind had a chance to fully catch up.

I reached for the bottom of my dress, but his hand stopped me.

“You sure?” he asked, his eyes held sincerity.

I nodded. “I still trust you.”

I scrunched my dress all the way up, exposing my bra and panties. He let out a heavy exhale and his eyes trailed my body in nothing but admiration. He leaned forward and attached his mouth to the top of my chest.

My fingers crawled under his shirt and crept up his hard midsection, before coming back down and hungrily fondling with his belt and pants buckle until they came undone.

The second my hand found what it was looking for, Zion inhaled sharply.

I felt the light pressure of his fingers replace the fabric of my panties that he had pushed to the side.

An unexpected gasp left my mouth.

With his free hand, I could feel Zion pulling something from his pocket, yet he never broke our kiss or stopped the consistent rhythm he had going with his other hand. 

My head tipped back, and my eyes fluttered closed as my hips picked up speed against his hand.

I froze and looked at him when he removed his hand. 

He had a devious smirk resting on his face. He shook his head. 

“Not yet.”

“Zionn,” I whined.

“Lift up.”

I obeyed, sitting up slightly. He started trailing kisses along my jawline up to my earlobe, sluggishly. He licked the sensitive spot behind my ear, then followed the same trail back down to my lips.

“Now relax for me,” he whispered against my lips.

I gasped loudly when I settled back down into his lap, and a new pressure filled me. I slightly dug my nails into his arms.

When he shifted his body, a light whimper escaped my mouth.

His hand slid back to my not-rolling waist.

“Slow,” he mumbled. A deep rumble came from the back of his throat.

He applied some tension to the grip he held on me as he guided my hips to a slow and steady tempo, which I caught onto.

The windows had been fogged, and the lingering smoke from the blunt he had ashed increased the heat that hovered above us.

He kept his left hand on my love handle, and his right hand reached for something next to us.

In one swift motion, he brought another blunt to his mouth, letting it rest between his lips, and lit it.

He inhaled, making the tip glow in the darkness of the car.

I gradually picked up the pace, and by how his face contorted, mixed with his deep moans that sent vibrations through my entire body, I knew he was struggling just as badly as I was to hold himself together.

My head fell back, eyes rolling because he had suddenly matched my rhythm with an upward thrust, hitting my sweet spot.

The smoke from the blunt swirled around my head, then settled down on me.

The sensation was breathtaking and made me feel like I was literally riding a cloud.

I turned my head slightly and looked at myself in the rearview mirror. 

Her lips were parted, swollen from his mouth, and smoke curled around her face like a soft filter. 

Loose curls had begun slipping from her ponytail as sweat crept down the nape of my neck. Her eyes were glistening a bit, and she looked so much more relaxed.

“That’s it,” Zion coached, his voice pulling my focus back to him.

His thumb tilted my chin down slightly, forcing my attention from the mirror to his eyes.

“Pretty as hell,” he mumbled.

He pulled from the blunt again, and when he blew the smoke back out, I followed its trail to the mirror, where the reflection had gotten blurred behind the smoke.

“Stay with me,” Zion said firmly, his hands steadying me when my rhythm faltered. 

Just like before, his voice and his touch anchored me. To him. To the moment. To this body.

The pressure inside me continued to build up, steadily, beautifully, until it felt like I was balancing between reality and that other dimension.

My nails pressed into his shoulder, and my head fell back as another wave hit harder.

“Zion,” my voice cracked.

He squeezed my hip.

“I got you,” he said, calm. “Let go.”

All the trust that had been built up within just a few short hours, and the tone of his command caused me to release. 

The release hit me like a severed tether, sharp, not painful, but freeing. It tore through every guarded part of me until there was nothing left but physical feeling. My body quivered, but my mind had gone completely silent.

For the first time that night, there was no split.

I peered at the mirror, and only the lingering haze remained. Thick, slow-moving clouds curling through the car, swallowing the glass. She was gone, though. The vacantness didn’t feel haunting or alarming.

“Good girl,” he rasped.

I collapsed forward, breathless. My forehead rested against Zion’s shoulder as smoke and adrenaline swirled around us.

Everything grew silent, and the only thing that could be heard was our heavy breathing. His hand moved slowly up my back. His lips brushed my temple, his voice low and certain. “Now you have no excuse to keep holdin’ yourself back.”

I didn’t say anything, I just let his words sink in.

My grip softened against him. For once, I was whole enough not to need that other version. The girl who kept herself fragmented, moved in fear, and was overly cautious…she was gone. And in that, I instantly found peace.

His thumb traced slow, reassuring circles against my side. I breathed in the smoke that rolled off his lips, relaxing me even more.

“It's okay to take that risk, mama,” he whispered against my ear. “Because you never know what will come out on the other side.”

I nodded my head, finally letting the high settle, and my eyes flickered shut.

BEEP, BEEP, BEEP

My eyes snapped open, the alarm slicing through the last threads of sleep. My body jolted, as if I’d been dropped back into reality too fast. For a moment, I just lay there, suspended between confusion and disorientation.

Sunlight spilled through the curtains, warm against my face. The ceiling slowly sharpened into focus. Everything looked normal, but something inside me didn’t feel normal at all.

I pushed myself upright, limbs heavy, body aching in a way that didn’t match the safety of my bed. It felt like I’d lived an entire night somewhere else, somewhere too vivid to be a dream, too impossible to be real.

I shut off the alarm and scanned the room.

Favorite pajamas. Bonnet still on. Room untouched.

No trace of the chaotic night I’d spent unraveling in the arms of a man I barely knew.  A man whose voice was still echoing in my mind.

Fragments drifted back, his name, Zion, the ghost of his hands on my skin, but the rest dissolved when I reached for it. A blur. A whisper. A feeling.

Disappointment and relief tangled in my chest.

I swung my legs over the bed and sat staring at the floor.

Silence.

Not the peaceful kind, but the unfamiliar kind.

Usually, my mornings were loud inside my head. To-do lists. New ideas. Anxious thoughts were clawing at me before I even stood up. But today… nothing. The noise was gone.

I stood and stretched, my body unfolding like it had been cramped in a box all night. I dragged myself toward the wardrobe, stopping in front of the mirror out of habit.

My reflection blinked back at me, bonnet crooked, eyes heavy, but the way I looked at myself had changed. The voice that usually picked me apart was quiet. Muted. 

I inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly. My shoulders dropped. I felt lighter. Freer.

The girl in the mirror was prettier, not because anything physical had shifted, but because something inside me finally had.

I’d broken whatever tether had been holding me down.

I touched my cheek and smiled.

Maybe the dream wasn’t a dream at all, maybe it was my mind forcing me to confront myself. I remembered leaving the party, walking into my dorm, and getting ready for bed. Zion existed only in my subconscious.

But the timid girl who walked into that frat house? She wasn’t here anymore. And I didn’t miss her.

“Incoming call from Zion. Should I answer?" my Alexa announced. 

I froze.

The smile vanished.

The room went completely still.

Slowly, I turned toward my phone.

The screen glowed with his name,

I walked over and answered.

“Hello?”

“What’s up? I was just checking on you from last night. Wanted to know if you wanted to grab brunch or something?”

I didn’t answer him right away.

My mind raced, trying to stitch together what was real and what wasn’t. The dream, the silence in my head, the way I felt lighter, all of it had felt like some kind of internal reset. A message from my subconscious.

But now his voice was here. Real. Present. Impossible to ignore.

I guess the night hadn’t been a dream after all.

Or maybe the dream had simply shown me who I was becoming.

I took a breath, steady and sure.

“Yeah,” I finally said. “Brunch sounds good.”

For the first time in a while, the voice in my head stayed quiet, letting me choose what came next.