Amari just finished her last and only gig for the month..she had immersed herself in work to lesson the agony of being dumb by her cheating boyfriend.
She had cut short her set list at the summerfest music festival to surprise Miller on his birthday. On getting to his apartment. He was in another woman's arms, an A list actress, Helen Daniel.
Amari's heart stopped mid beat.
The bottle of red wine slipped slightly in her grip.
Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.
Miller looked up. Froze. Guilt flashed across his face but not panic.
He quickly dragged her outside. As if he didn't want to upset the other woman.
Hey, I thought you had more sets tonight," he said.
Amari was still silent.
"I—look, I didn't mean for you to see this." His voice lacked urgency. almost like he didn't mean it.
Amari. we won't go far with just the both of us. As newbies in the industry, we need a push, and Helen offers me that opportunity.
Amari looked at him with disbelief.
He continued. When I'm up there, I can lend you a helping hand. Besides "We were never... official. No one really knew. It's not like anyone's gonna miss us or ask questions."
She scoffed bitterly.
"How long?" she asked calmly, expression unreadable.
He rubbed his face. unable to meet her gaze. "Three months." He replied.
Maintaining composure. She nodded in amazement. Didn't respond, didn't cry or yell. Instead, she placed the wine gently on the floor by his door. Set the gift bag beside it with trembling hands.
And then she walked slowly, like her legs weren't hers anymore.
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A month after the break up.
After finishing her last gig. She was home. With no idea of when the next gig was coming.
And it seems Miller's hookup paid off. He was everywhere. The billboards, the radio interviews, music tours. He was they peoples upcoming star, The next big thing, "Miller Scott."
And she? She was the girl who kept saying no to powerful men in dark suits who promised fame.
Saying no meant scarcity.
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It was a Friday evening.
Lagos nightlife is always vibrant and energetic, party never stops. Especially on weekends.
Amari sat alone at a sleek bar where everything sparkled except her mood. The music was too loud, the crowd too alive. She just wanted to feel anything, or maybe nothing.
She was dressed in black tight gown, simple, stunning. Her lipstick shade was a little too daring, dark liner framed her eyes with a sharpness she rarely allowed and the kind of drama she didn't usually wear. She wasn't here to be noticed. She was here to disappear or maybe to do something reckless. Something new.
From were she was sitting, her eyes scanned the crowd lazily until they landed on him.
He was tall, fair skinned, with a presence that owned space without even trying. Not flashy, but undeniable. His shirt hugged his chest like it was stitched to his muscles, and the way he leaned into his drink, calm, controlled, watching made her heart skip just for a second.
She didn't think.
She just moved.
Sliding off her stool, she downed the whiskey in one go. She sauntered towards him with confidence laced with alcohol and desperation.
"Hey," she said, her voice low, like she was testing the moment more than offering a greeting.
He looked up slowly, studying her for a beat before his lips curved into a slow, knowing smile.
She didn't break eye contact. "Wanna get out of here?" she asked, "Maybe have a drink or two… somewhere else?"
His brow lifted slightly, amused. "Somewhere else like...?"
She lowered her head, her voice softer. "Your place or mine?"
He chuckled softly, not mocking but more intrigued. "Mine." he said.
His apartment was cleaner than she expected. City lights filtered through tall windows, casting silver shadows on the walls.
She kicked off her heels and poured herself another drink from his bar while he watched her quietly, hands in his pockets.
"I don't usually do this," she blurted, turning to face him. "Go home with strangers."
"No?" he asked, still watching her.
She shook her head, the liquor finally settling like heat in her chest.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not trying to be someone I'm not. Just trying something I never let myself try."
He moved slowly, like he wasn't sure what to make of her. He stopped just a few feet from her, his eyes narrowing slightly.
"You really don't recognize me… do you?"
She blinked, swaying slightly on her bare feet.
"I'm I supposed to?" she asked, voice low.
Still wondering if she was pretending not to recognize him or extremely drunk.
He stepped closer, and the light from the city behind him bathed his skin in soft gold, that it stirred something in her.
He tilted his head, with a smirk. "Interesting."
She took a step closer, barely inches from him now. She could feel the heat coming off his skin.
"Should I?" she whispered, her eyes sweeping over his jawline, the veins on his arms, the tension in his shoulders.
He didn't answer. He just stood there, letting her close the space between them.
"I don't care who you are," she murmured, her lips near his ear now. "All I know is… I don't want to think tonight. I don't want to feel anything except your hands on my body. Can you do that for me?"
His breath hitched ever so slightly.
Then he kissed her.
It wasn't gentle.
It was raw, searing, hungry.
They kissed like they were trying to erase something. Her hands gripped his shirt like it might keep her from falling apart. She pulled him by the collar of his shirt, mouths crashing, hands everywhere tugging, grabbing, needing. A collision of loneliness and lust.
Her dress slipped off her shoulders and pooled around her feet. He lifted her, strong arms cradling her like she weighed nothing, and carried her to the couch. No words, just breathless gasps and the sound of skin meeting skin.
She moaned into his mouth, nails digging into his back. Every touch was desperate like they were breathing their last. Her legs wrapped around his waist, their bodies moving in sync and rhythm.
clothes trailing behind. Every touch said, "don't leave me," even if no one dared speak, tangled in sheets and secrets, until the city lights dimmed and the room was filled with the sound of soft moans and hurried breaths.
When it was over, he kissed her shoulder softly, gently, as if the hunger had melted into something quiet and strangely tender. She turned to face the window, exhaling.
And somewhere between exhaustion and silence, Amari fell asleep.
The next morning.
Sunlight warmed her bare skin, and she stirred slowly, groggy, a dull ache in her body reminding her of the night before.
Then she opened her eyes.
She froze for a moment at the sight of the room.
The photos on the walls.
The awards on the shelf.
The face on the magazine cover on the nightstand.
Her breath caught in her throat.
She whispered, "You've got to be kidding me."