44. Welcome 2 The Dawn

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Wednesday/February 24, 1993/Los Angeles, CA

Anxious hand sitting on top of the hill behind her, I tripped into her eyes as she thumbed my lip. It was an unconscious move on her part; it could've been a piece of her body glitter that transferred on to me—or it could've been nothing at all. But it set me off.

Mirroring her smile, the chaos all around me glitched out. Anxious hand lower and gripping, I was defeated by compulsion. I kissed her. Once, twice and again.

Falling away from the flashes, she hid behind my cheek. Giggling in my ear, she called my name, hush and sweet. "Lover..."

Shit. "It's the dress," I playfully blamed. But it was way more than a dress causing me to act a fool on this red carpet.

Just an hour ago, I was on a plane and she was waiting at the hotel. We hadn't seen much of each other in the last few months. Aívy wasn't "all mine" anymore. It was a new truth I was struggling to accept, a constant internal battle. I hated it.

Don't get it twisted. It was genuine love for her family. Quite frankly, I felt myself growing closer to them than my own blood. They had that effect, tightknit and welcoming. I know they were skeptical about me at first because they straight up told me. But by Christmas, I was theirs too.

But seeing my best friend leave me to go be with her new best friend had my head spinning. I didn't hold her attention like I used to. Aívy had fallen in love with being a daughter. Bonnie was the closest thing to her. It cut me up inside every time Aívy chose her mother over me. But I couldn't admit that to anyone without them seeing the mask of the devil.

I prayed these needy feelings I had would soon pass. If this was me three years ago, I would've been moved on, left her right where she chose to be and on to the next. But I couldn't do that anymore. It'd hurt her so much if she ever found out that while she was away, I actually tried.

The art of juggling was dead to me.

"Amira?! Prince?! Aívy!? Come on, just one more this way!" They didn't know how to address her. Funny. Some days, neither did I.

When Aívy and I first arrived in South Carolina last Thanksgiving, she was only Amira. They wouldn't have her any other way.

That holiday night, her parents hosted a gathering to 50-plus folks in their home. A lot of faces and names to quickly forget. But for Aívy, it was meeting "The Greats" and "The Grands" that left the biggest impression. They're love and open prayers are what brought tears to her eyes. And then they asked her to stay... "For the rest of the year." That weekend, I had to leave Amira behind.

The paps gave up on getting "more" and asked for shots of Aívy and I on our own. Distance swelled between us and I couldn't stop looking over at her from where I stood.

"Miss Valentine!" someone called. And she shut that down quick. "Nuh-uh. Aívy!" Keeping the friendly on her face, she said it again drawing an A in the Cali air. "It's Aívy!" Like magic, it was then only Aívy, Aívy, Aívy and she was loving it, giving them a show. Back, front, left, right, kisses blown. Yes, this sass could only be Aívy. And she knew what she was doing with that dress.

White in color, the right arm and shoulder were bare and the left completely sleeved with a padded shoulder. Breasts were sitting perky and perfect against the v-cut and though it reached just above her knee, I knew this dress would be a topic of controversial discussion come morning. There were a lot of bold fashion choices going on tonight. And for Aívy's case, it was the idea that she chose to flaunt her curves rather than conceal them for other's comfort.

𝐒𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐞𝐝, 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐁𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐅𝐚𝐧Where stories live. Discover now