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He uses me as his torment, his repentance, and it drives me insane. I don't want to be that for him. Sometimes, though, it isn't torment. Sometimes he thinks of me, and his mind fills with the sweetest pleasure, a pleasure that makes me gasp and tremble with the aftershocks of it. But,...

“You think it’s how we’re dressed?” Blossom tugs at the low cut square neckline of her empire waist dress. Abra snorts. “I’m pretty sure it’s because we’re Black—and free.” She snorts. “Okay, okay. Try to blend in.” He arches a brow. “You mean, blend in like we aren’t the only Black people?...

I press my eye to the keyhole, even though I don't have to, and sigh. Blossom’s presence precedes her. It precedes her like a motherfucker. Her radiant, silvery light filtered into my apartment before she even got out of her car. And like always, it filled me with a conflicted longing that...