Your OnlyFan

The walk to Dinisha’s car was mostly quiet, save for Erik’s cheerful whistle. There’s an extra spring to his step as he twirls his keychain around his finger, a chuckle or two breaking through and echoing out in the dimly lit street they’re traversing. 

Chauncey bites his tongue, choosing to stare daggers at the faded back of his best friend’s head until they break away from Dinisha. The trio exchange goodbyes before Chauncey and Erik turn to head in the direction of his Ferrari. As soon as Dinisha’s pearl white Malibu disappears down Main Street, Chauncey turns sharply on his heels and stalks towards his best friend.

“Nigga…,” he seethes with a tilt of his head before he gestures to the building they walked out of. “You wanna explain what the fuck that just was?”

Erik is nonplussed by his attitude; stuffing his hands in his pockets before he rocks back on his heels lightly. At least he has the decency to smother his smile, “Whatchu meeeean?” he squeaks before shrugging a shoulder. “We was just having fun.”

That…he…okay.

“Touché,” Chauncey sighs, “but… You know what I’m talking about. That was a whole pissing contest back there.”

Erik kisses his teeth loudly before turning to continue their journey, “Maan, we both know my dick probably bigger than his. Wasn’t no contest to be had.” 

Chauncey huffs a laugh. “Now see,” he grins. “If you weren’t my brother, I’d say something. Anywhore…” 

“And,” Erik interjects, looking over at his friend, “if you weren’t mine, I would have dumped yo ass on the street in second grade.”

“After or before I beat Mark’s ass for you?”

Erik rolled his eyes to the heavens, “Here we go…”

“Anywhore,” Chauncey starts again, “I still wanna know what the fuck that was.”

“Why you trippin? You was just as bad.”

“Okay, but I don’t like Mahari.”

“Funny. I don’t either,” Erik gruffed with a twist of his lips. When the fuck was Chauncey going to let this shit go?

“Nigga….bitch….okay,” Chauncey groans with a shake of his head. 

Erik stops dead in his tracks to look at his friend. “Did you just call me a bitch?”

“No, I called you a nigga bitch,” Chauncey clarifies with a wave of his fingers as he too stops to stare at Erik. “If you didn’t like that girl, why’d you do all of that?”

“Calm down. Y’all act like I broke the shit on purpose.”

“Who was talking about the bracelet? I was referring to the whole thing. You, me, and Nisha were having a nice ass time, why did we have to go sit with them?”

“I wanted to sit with my friend.”

Chauncey exhales exasperatedly as he watches Erik’s face change; his mask of feigned nonchalance sliding into place. He knew this side of Erik all too well. This blasé attitude was his defense mechanism when he knew he was wrong. After all, it’s a lot easier for him to place the blame on someone else than actually admit he did something wrong. 

Chauncey was not doing this shit with him tonight. 

“Oh, now she’s your friend? I thought she was just your student.”

“She is,” Erik smirks.

“Okay, nigga,” Chauncey laughs without humor. “Why did you have to mention the fact that the bracelet was fake? We all knew it was fake, but she clearly liked it.”

“If you like someone, why give them fake shit? It just proves you have fake intentions.”

“Nigga says who?! What does that even mean?” Chauncey screeches.  “Just say you were jealous of the fact that she was enjoying my neo’s company and go. You’re making an ass of yourself right now.”

“Insult me again and you’re walking home,” Erik threatens. “The only person making an ass of themselves is your neo. Like he could handle a girl like Mahari anyway.”

“Oh, and you could do better?”

“I think she’s worth more than some bum ass museum he got a student discount on and a cheap-ass burger, yeah,” Erik states. It nearly concerns him how he plots a date between them in his mind in less than a nanosecond. He shakes the thought, turning again to continue to his car.

“Aight, nigga. Everybody can’t afford Cartier bracelets and Ruth’s Chris for a first date.”

“Then everybody needs to leave my girl alone.”

What?

“UMM HELLO?! WHO?!” Chauncey nearly screams. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Whatever Mahari had in the box had his best friend’s nose wide open. So much so that he was contradicting himself. Did she bury her draws in this nigga’s yard? 

Before he can think, Chauncey spews, “I thought Xo was in New York.”

Erik stops walking, looking at him like a wounded puppy. “You ain’t have to go there, C.”

“But I did because you being wishy-washy as fuck right now,” Chauncey continues, too annoyed at Erik’s inability to see what was really happening. “You decided after you and Xo were done to just fuck your pain away. And I been real quiet because we all deal with trauma differently. The women you been dealing with know what it is and you seem happy enough. But what I won’t let you do, is bring Mahari into your bullshit. Especially when you can’t even acknowledge how you feel.” He paused, looking directly into Erik’s eyes, seeking out a shred of deceit.  “Are you her teacher or her nigga? I could tell you what I think you should be, but we all know yo hardheaded ass ain’t gone listen.”

Surprising them both, Erik doesn’t answer immediately. Chauncey watches as a plethora of emotions flits through Erik’s eyes. His lips twist slowly, pulling down in the corners as he thinks. And thinks. And thinks. Chauncey almost feels triumphant that he got the pig-headed nigga to actually consider his actions before an emotion he knows all too well settles across Erik’s features. Headassary.

“How come I can’t be her teacher nigga?”

An outsider would think that Chauncey was mixed with Jamaican with how long and loud he kisses his teeth.

“N’Jadaka Udaku, I swear to Bast, Yemoja, and Oshun..”

“First of all, nigga, my name is Erik Stevens,.” the Spyder blinks to life as they finally reach it. “Second of all, I hear you. I ain’t even mean it like that. ‘My girl’ as in my friend.”

“So you call all your female friends your girl?” Chauncey questions, opening the passenger door.

“I call you my boy, don’t I?”

“No, you call me your brother. Your sister if you’re being an ass. I ain’t eeeveeeeer heard you refer to the any of the Powerpuff Sluts as your girl.”

“Semantics nigga,” Erik says over the car purring to life. “Either way, the nigga don’t deserve her.”

“You sounding real possessive right now, E. And I think you really need to ask yourself who you lying to: you or yourself? Cause you aint lying to me.”

“Whatever nigga.”

The drive to Chauncey’s place is relatively quiet as Erik seems lost in his thoughts. 

Good for him, Chauncey thinks with a rueful shake of his head. He reaches over to dap Erik up when they stop outside his condo. 

Giving him a stern look as he says, “I meant what the fuck I said earlier, E. Figure it out! With your head not your dick.”

“Por que no los dos?” Erik smirks as he exits the vehicle. 

Chauncey groans loudly. “I hate yo ass, I swear,” he says before slamming the door.

“This is a classic, nigga!” Erik yells as Chauncey walks up to his front door. “The hell he think this is?” he fusses, making sure he was safe in the house before pulling off.

Chauncey’s words play on an endless loop as he makes the drive home. He knows his brother is right, but still can’t bring himself to feel bad about the way the night went. Even though she was upset, he knew she still had a soft spot for him. The lustful look in her eyes before they left told all. She wants him bad and he wants her just the same… He thinks.

“Nah,” he says with a shake of his head. He refuses to dwell on that train of thought and opts to text the one person he knew would make him forget everything: Chanel.

Aye, you free tomorrow?

MAMA Oakland is just as busy as Mahari remembers and discovering it had been the perfect case of serendipity. She had been out one day touring the neighborhood when she quite literally stumbled upon it. The edge of her platform vans hadn’t cleared the curb as she expected and she went tumbling forward; landing on her hands and knees in front of the long line of people. Normally, she would have scurried away in embarrassment but one whiff of the air around her and she was in a daze. She’d ordered the chicken parm to go and had decimated over half the dish before she’d even made it back to her room.

The architecture is her second favorite part, her first of course being the food. Her love of open-concept designs is what pulls her to the plant-lined glass ceilings and open kitchen. Watching the chefs prepare her meals always transports her back to Italy, where she stayed with the De Laurentiis family during her study abroad program in high school. She nearly drools when the waiter brings out her spaghetti sugo and Sanaa’s meatballs. 

“Mmmm,” Sanaa moans, licking the sauce off of her lips. “I swear this shit gets better every time we come here,” she says between bites.

Mahari cuts her eyes over to her playfully. “At least one of us gets to have balls in her mouth,” she pouts behind her glass of pinot noir.

“I’m sorry, what?” Sanaa screeches, nearly choking on the bite she’s chewing.

“Nothiiinng,” Hari sings sweetly, batting her eyelashes.

“You lying like shit, Three,” Sanaa challenges. 

With a deep, exasperated, negro spiritual sigh, Mahari regails the tale of the previous night’s events, adding extra emphasis to David and Teacher Nigga’s bullshit. Sanaa is gripping the table by the end of it, a murderous look in her eyes.

“Umm, hello?!” she questions, disbelieving. “Do I need to come to class with you on Tuesday? I’ll fight both of those niggas in front of everybody, I swear.”

“Five,” Mahari sighs gently, pressing the cool glass to her forehead. She knew Sanaa was going to make a big deal which is why she considered not telling her in the first place. The two were deathly protective of each other and would go to war over the smallest inconvenience. And Erik? Was a big inconvenience. 

“Don’t ‘Five’ me,” Sanaa hisses, leaning closer to her friend. “If you didn’t want me to react, you shouldn’t have told me. Nah, what you should’ve done was call me last night.”

“Absolutely not!” Mahari states lowly. She sets her glass on the table and steels herself. “Look, I handled it. I was just venting to you.”

Sanaa rolls her eyes in disgust before popping another juicy meatball in her mouth. “Fine. I won’t hurt them,” she says after a beat.

“Thank you,” Hari says, relieved that Sanaa was willing to drop the subject so quickly. Which was….suspiciously rare.

“I just wanna talk…”

“Cut it out!” Mahari giggles. She purses her lips as a new thought enters her head. “We never talk about what’s going on with you. I feel like a bad friend.”

“Bitch shut up,” Sanaa dismisses gently. “Yo life is waaay more eventful. Like I’m watching an episode of the young and the reckless, college edition, featuring that nigga dick.”

Mahari is thankful that she had yet to pull her fork to her lips, otherwise, she definitely would’ve choked on a noodle. Her mind briefly drifts to Erik’s last video that she may or may not have watched a few times before fapping herself to sleep the night before. She might be angry at him but…

“Issa nice dick…”

“It truly is.” They laugh. “Nah but seriously nothing is new. The only thing I’m looking forward to is you coming to spend the weekend with me. Which you’re still coming to do, right?”

“Yeeesss, Five,” Mahari groans. “Since y’all refuse to let me live.”

“Girl, you done seen every episode of Naurto. Twice. Boruto too! How is that living?”

“Four times, but that’s not the point,” Mahari corrects.

“Reasons why your ass needs to get out. I refuse to let my best friend grow cobwebs on a pussy she don’t even know how to work yet.”

It is here that Mahari chokes on the aforementioned noodle. “Are you trying to kill me today?!”

“No, but I am still down to kill Erik if necessary,” Sanaa says in a saccharine voice dipped in venom. 

“Mama Mia,” Mahari huffs. 

“No but seriously,” Sanaa says, sitting her fork down, “He must really be out of sorts. I think this may be the longest time between videos I’ve seen from him.”

Don’t I know it, Hari’s inner hoe says petulantly. She’s watched damn near every video he has at her price point and she was itching for more content. Not paying to unlock the locked videos in her inbox itching but itching nonetheless.

“He hasn’t posted?” Mahari tries to keep her voice light. But by the look Sanaa shoots her, she knows she’s failed.

“Bitch, you and I both know you got post notifications on.”

“No, I don’t!” Mahari squeaks indignantly. 

As if the porn god himself decides to spite her, both of the phones on the table ding with a new email from OF showing her he’s posted.

A huge smirk takes over Sanaa’s features as she reaches for her device. “Lie again, bitch.”

Mahari crosses her arms over her chest, pouting like the brat she wasn’t aware that she was. “I don’t need this. Can we please have the check?”

“Text Black Mamba and tell him to pay for us.”

Her jaw nearly hits her plate before she recovers with a frown. “This is why I don’t tell you shit.”

“You tell me everything. And don’t act like he wouldn’t pay either. That nigga is in the top 1% of OF content creators. He got it.”

“I have to go.”

“Yeah yeah I know,” Sanaa says, flagging down the waiter to indeed get their check. “The devil button calling you again, ain’t it? You bought that sucking vibrator I sent you last week, didn’t you? You dirty little hamster.”

Yes, but that’s none of your damn business, her inner hoe fusses.

“Good BYE, Five!” Mahari huffs, grabbing up her bag and heading for the door.

“Where you going, bitch? I drove!” Sanaa calls, jingling her keys for emphasis.

Hot. That’s the only feeling that consumes Chanel as Erik strokes just the right spot. Her moans, coupled with the way his hand grips her throat with just the right amount of pressure had her leaking in the best way.

“Eriiiik,” she keens directly in his ear as her legs lock around his waist.

“I feel it, ma. Let it go,” he growls softly as he begins jackhammering her g spot. This was it, the perfect way to let off the pressure that’s been mounting on his shoulders. He digs deeper, angling his hips in the way that always makes her cover him cream. 

She clenches her walls tightly around his shaft, effectively milking him of everything he has to offer as her orgasm rocks through her. 

His free hand shoots up to grip the pillow beside her head, “Fuuuuck, that’s it. Just like that.” Erik’s balls tighten, alerting him that he’s about to reach his end. 

Gahdamn, he thinks as he clenches his teeth, his strokes losing their rhythm as he chases his release. 

“Cum for me, Mamba,” Chanel coos softly, dragging her fresh set of stiletto nails down his back. The pain met Erik’s pleasure head on and he grunts as he fills the condom to the brim.

It takes them both a second to calm after, both breathing hard and sweating as they grinned at one another. Chanel gives him a weak thumbs up and he tosses her a wink. Yeah, he definitely needed that. 

Erik moves to sit against Chanel’s headboard, swiping his hand across his forehead gently. Despite what he had just finished with Chanel, his mind couldn’t help but drift to Mahari. She still hadn’t spoken to him since Saturday night and if he were being honest with himself, he was bothered. He looks down to Chanel, who’s laying beside him with her cashmere blanket tucked under her chin. 

 “I need some advice.”

Chanel opens one eye, surprised. “Oh?”

Erik nods solemnly, thinking back on earlier in the day. He’d walked into the classroom  which was honestly one of the highlights of his week, happier than a pig in shit; an extra spring to his step ready to see his favorite student. She was sitting in her normal spot, the front in center of the class, her curvy, bare legs swinging under her table as she typed furiously on her phone, head down. An instant smile curved his lips as he took a few moments to gaze at her. Even with the tight expression she was wearing she was still cute as shit. Erik contemplated going over to fuck with her but thought twice when he looked at David who was actively staring a hole into the side of her face. Erik sniffed a laugh. The kid was still in the dog house it seemed. Nah, Erik would wait for her to look up at him and figure out his tactic by her reaction to seeing him. It was a sound plan. Except Mahari never looked at him. At all. The entire 80 minutes they were in the hall. Her eyes stayed locked on the old doctor as he spoke, never straying over to him; even when he purposely walked directly into her line of sight. 

Tough crowd, he remembers thinking to himself. She all but ran out as soon as they were dismissed. Leaving him and that other lil nigga in the dirt. 

Chanel cocks an eyebrow, growing impatient at his silence, “Umm, hello?”

“I think I fucked up,” he finally breathes out, scratching at his eyebrow nervously.

Both of Chanel’s fly open as she shoots up from her relaxed position. “Nigga did you cum in me?!” she exclaims, still holding the blanket over her bare chest.

“Girl.. No!” Erik exclaims, rolling the used condom off for emphasis. “It’s about Hari. I may have-”

“The Virgin?” Chanel interrupts, eyes going even wider. “Nigga did you cum in her?” 

“Chanel, no. Damn, let me get it out!” She was doing entirely too much.

“My bad. Continue.”

Erik lets out an exasperated sigh. “She was out on a date with one of my other students the other night…”

“Okaaaaay..” Chanel prompted when he lapsed back into silence.

“I crashed their date and in turn got into a pissing contest with the nigga she was with.”

“You need yo grown ass beat!” Chanel says, readjusting the bonnet that he had just knocked askew. “Now, didn’t I specifically tell you to stay away from that girl? I could’ve sworn that’s exactly  what I said.“

“But C-”

“But nothing, Erik!” Chanel screeches making Erik cover his ears. “You’re not ready to settle down again, especially after Xo. So why in the hale would you bring her into your shit?! Especially since you said, and I quote, ‘i DoN’t FuCk My StUdEnTs.’”

“I know what I said,” Erik pouts, getting out the bed to pull up his boxers.

“So what, are you going back on your own word?” Chanel accuses, eyeing him.

Erik sighed deeply before sitting back on the bed, “Like I told Chauncey, it wasn’t like that. And I haven’t fucked her.”

“That’s not the point, jackass. She’s INNOCENT!”

Erik covers his ears again, “Man, why you yelling?”

“Because that seems like the only way to get through the vibranium layer of ya skull. You’re gonna end up hurting her the exact same way Xolani hurt you,” Chanel ignored the very pointed way Erik was looking at her at the second mention of his ex’s name, “and I’m not about to sit idly by and let you do it.”

“You don’t know what the fuck me and Xo had going on, so don’t you dare bring her into this!” Erik glowers, turning to face the cocoa goddess behind him.

She blinks at his tone a few times before leaning forward, “Take the damn caps lock out of your fucking voice, nigga!” Erik knew she was really upset because she began clapping in his face for emphasis. “You asked me for advice. You could’ve left me in freshly fucked oblivion.”

Erik pinches the bridge of his nose. “You’re right. My fault for coming at you like that.”

Sighing, Chanel sits back, knowing she too was out of order. “You good. I’ll overlook it because you emotional and shit. But don’t you dare take that tone with me again.”

“That’s fair, but at the same time, don’t go throwing my ex’s name in my face like you know the whole situation. That wasn’t cool either.”

“You’re right, and I apologize.”

“Accepted,” Erik said, happy the two of them could be adults about this. “But to further clarify, I haven’t done shit to this girl. Sexually anyway.” 

“I think you crashing her date with someone is way worse, don’t you think?” 

“Is it?” Erik squeaked, shrugging his shoulders comically with the wink of one eye. “I just thought the shit would be funny. The nigga she was with is a cornball anyway. Not worth her time.”

Chanel blinks again, silently wondering if this was the same nigga that had been dicking her down on a consistent basis for the last year and a half. Was this nigga getting soft? She grabs his hand, pulling him to sit closer to her as she stared into his eyes. Erik almost recoils at the intensity.

“I’ll ask you this and then we can drop the whole thing, if you want,” she starts, holding his gaze. Gentling her voice to not scare him too much. “Why does it bother you so much? You’re a graduate assistant and part time porn star who’s not ready for another serious relationship.”

“I’m not a porn star,” Erik corrects her with a smirk.

“You’re right,” Chanel nods with a smirk. “You’re a prostitute… Ya whore,” she giggles. 

“But you still ain’t answer my question. Why did it bother you?”

Seconds trickle back as Erik thinks about this for the second time in a calendar week. It was hard on his psyche to be completely honest. Every time he seems to get closer, a tightness would bloom in his chest, near his heart. He reached up to rub at the area, trying to physically chase away the sensation before he looked back at his friend.

“To be honest, I don’t know. I’ve been trying to figure it out since the other night.”

“I’ll tell you what I think,” Chanel states confidently. “I think you like her a lot more than you’re letting yourself believe and you owe them both an apology..”

Erik scoffs lightly, removing his hand from her soft grasp. Needing to be back on his bullshit. This being honest and exploring feelings shit was for the birds.“Only thing I like is pussy. Speaking of…”

“Nigga again?” she groans, allowing Erik to guide her body until she’s positioned on all fours, a deep arch in her back. Looking back at him as he pulls out another condom from god knows where.

“What? Like you got somewhere to be,” he chuckles darkly as he guides himself back into her entrance. 

Yeah, that’s more like it.

Thursday was absolutely no better. In fact, it was way worse. After his conversation with Chanel, Erik knew it truly was time to try to corner little Khamisi into talking to him. He had devised a plan to show up to class a few minutes earlier than he normally would and perch himself right next to the door, ready to pull her gently outside and down the main hall, away from prying eyes and ears. Mainly David’s. It seemed like Bast herself had whispered his plans into Mahari’s ears as the girl showed up a full ten minutes after class had begun. Throwing Dr. Watson an apologetic smile as she slid into the seat that bitchass nigga had saved for her. The only thing that gave him any semblance of joy was the annoyed eye roll she offered at his smile. 

After that, it was a repeat of Tuesday, with Mahari imitating a Tasmanian devil the second the old man croaked out his “class dismissed.” Erik’s jaw had ticked slightly, fury entering his gaze when Mariah yelled out: 

“She don’t fuck with yoooouuuuuuuuu!”

“Nigga, fuck you!” he seethed before snatching his bag up and stomping out. 

N’Jobu had just ended a follow-up call with his last patient when California Love by Tupac started playing before he could even put down the phone. He smiled gently, swiping over and sitting back in his home office chair.

The look on his son’s face worried him. “What’s the matter, son? You look genuinely nettled.”

“I fucked up, pops,” Erik states without preamble.

“What did you do? Are you in trouble?” N’Jobu’s tone caused Ava to raise from her comfortable position in the chaise, Mama Bear mode activated.

“No, no. It’s nothing like that,” Erik dismisses with a wave of his hand though his face doesn’t change. The tightness still evident on his brow 

“So then what’s the matter, my precious little cherub?” Ava’s sweet voice sings from the other end of the line.

Fuck, Erik thinks to himself. She gone kill my black ass, he sighs deeply and pinches his nose under his glasses.

“Here’s the Spark Notes version,” he says as he walks to his car. “I was out with Chauncey and one of our friends. Two of my students came in and were on a date and I kinda sorta crashed it.”

“Why?” N’Jobu questions.

“I really don’t know,” Erik lies. He was more than enough self aware now to at least admit that to himself. His parents were another thing entirely.

“I call bullshit,” Ava says, taking the phone from her husband.

Erik shakes his head. Why had he even tried it with her there? “Because the nigga wasn’t worth her time, ma,” he finally admits.

Ava raised a brow and pinned her son with a look, “And who are you to make that decision?”

Erik rolls his eyes, kissing his teeth, “Maaaan.”

“I’m afraid I have to agree with your mother, son.”

This some bullshit…

“I think the two people on the phone know I was raised to treat a woman right. And spot when that isn’t happening, no?” They were really trying to turn this around on him like they aint raise him to be this way. Okay…so they weren’t as rude or crass as he was but that wasn’t the ghatdamn point. 

“I think you’re full of shit like your father,” Ava interjects, causing N’Jobu to lean back with one hand on his chest.

“Me?!” he said incredulously, even with the smile on his face as he eye’d as his wife. 

“Yes!” Both Ava and Erik answer in unison. N’Jobu throws his hands in the air with a chuckle.

“That boy is the fruit of your loins, my love and the apple did not fall far from the tree,” Ava continues.

“At least it was a nice tree,” N’Jobu smirks.

“Oh yes. The longest and thickest in the grove.”

“And hardest. Do not forget that part,” N’Jobu purrs, kissing her neck with a tiny growl. Ava broke out in giggles.

Erik rolls his eyes back in his skull as he leans against his car he’s just been standing next to. “You know what.. BYE!” 

“Boy don’t you hang up on your parents!” Ava admonishes. “You called us. Remember?”

“For adviiiiiceeeee,” Erik emphasizes with a few taps against his car. “You niggas being nasty. The only sibling I signed up for was Chauncey and I didn’t even sign up for him, if I’m being honest.”

Ava releases a few more chuckles before looking back at her son, “I think that at the very least, you owe them both an apology. If this date went as badly as I think it did, and I know you, so I’m sure it was bad, they deserve that much.”

“An apology?!” Why, he had never. 

“Please remember that you called us for this,” N’Jobu parrots his wife’s words from seconds before with a stern shake of his head. “And that we raised you to be the bigger person, especially when you’re wrong.”

“Ugh, man this some bullshit,” Erik kicks the air. 

“Excuse you?” Ava quips.

“Aight man,” Erik sighs, defeated. Deep in his cold, black heart, he knew this was the right thing to do. Didn’t mean he wanted to do the shit. “I’ll say sorry or whatever.”

To Mahari, he thinks. Fuck that other bitch. 

“With feeling, N’Jadaka.”

“I’ve been called that so many times this week,” Erik mutters, getting into his car.

“Then get some act right. Love you son.”

“Love y’all too,” he pouts as the vehicle roars to life. They were right. They all were, and he knew it. He was willing to apologize, but now the question was how in the hell would he get Hari to listen?

Diamonds are a girl’s best friend, Chanel’s voice echoes in the recesses of his mind. 

His thick lips bunch up underneath his mustache as he contemplates the phrase. Hari didn’t seem like the flashy type. And, the last person he’d bought diamonds for had skipped off to New York to pursue her dreams. He rolled his eyes to himself and how annoyed he still got when thinking of Xo before refocusing his mind. Erik could do jewelry, but what would Mahari even like? 

A quick memory of her face when he’d broken that piece of shit David had called a bracelet, flitted through his mind and he immediately knew what to get. Pulling off, he headed straight to his jewelry before traffic could get any crazier than it probably already was. Mahari would love the design he had in mind and that nigga would be salty. It was a win-win in his book.

—————————————-

“Are you ever going to be done, Naa?” Mahari questions in a bored voice as hangs upside down on her best friend’s bed, gazing at herself in the mirror. That was pointing directly at her bed, the freak nasty hoe. 

“Can you give me a second?” Sanaa calls from inside her closet. “You came over here looking like a snack, hors devours, and finely plated dessert, I’m tryna match ya fly.”

Giggling in this position made Mahari’s head even lighter than it already was so she rolled her body up until into a sitting position. Sanaa had a point. Mahari doesn’t know what exactly came over her when she slipped on the gold, long-sleeved wrap top that accentuated her cleavage perfectly, or the distressed jeans that had majority of her left thigh out, but she was feeling herself. She even wore the chunky invisible heels she bought on a whim to pull the piece together. 

Maybe it was the fact that it was the weekend, or that Sanaa had promised to make up for the horrible date she’d had this time last week. It may have also been all the attention she had received from two of her formerly favorite fuck heads that week. Either way, she was feeling sexy and wanted to show the world her new attitude while it lasted. 

“Okaaaay, but you look good all the fuckin time,” Hari called back as she fluffed up her eyelashes. “I’m just tryna be like you.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Ms. Owens,” Sanaa giggles as she steps out of her closet looking like the baddie she was. The orange, long sleeve fishnet top she’s wearing pops perfectly in her skin as it dips down into her black overall dress. Oval shaped Ray Bans are perched at the end of her nose and the neon orange, platform boots perfectly pull the outfit together. Sanaa was such a flex. 

“Well gaaaaaaaaaaaaahdamn,” Mahari broadcasts while fanning herself. She hops up, swaggering over towards her bestie, a dip in her walk like a mopheaded nigga she knows. “You got a man? Can he fight?”

“Goodnight, Mrs. Teacher Nigga,” Sanaa laughs, causing Mahari to drop the entire act.

“Why you bring him up?” Mahari pouts.

“Because you looked and sounded just like him just now. You’ll be okay once you get some ice cream,” she tells her with a concerned pat of her hand.

“I swear if I can make it through the weekend without seeing him or David, I may consider acknowledging their existence again.”

“Or don’t,” Sanaa suggests, as she tosses her things into her bag and pulls it over her shoulder. “Peasants acknowledge a queen, not the other way around.”

“Bitch, I love you.”

“The feeling is mutual,” Sanaa winks as they make their way down to her blue Tesla 3. “Let’s go make the biggest fucking sundae this side of the Mississipi.”

“Yes’m!” Mahari laughs as they enter the car. This date was well deserved. Her face set into a serious expression as she looked out the window, seemingly talking to the universe itself. “I refuse to let anything ruin this day.”

“Can’t nothing ruin ice cream, sister.”

Friday night. The day Erik had secretly been waiting for all week. As much as the pair annoyed him, he enjoyed spending time with Chauncey and Dinisha. And the way the last six days were going, he knew that they were just the reprieve he needed. Chauncey had greeted him with an expression that clued Erik into the fact that he wanted an update on what had transpired over the week. Erik, however, wasn’t ready to touch on such a sore topic. Chauncey had blessedly let it go.

Now, the trio were currently discussing Dinisha’s choice of top, the purple tone complimenting her skin perfectly. A perfect distraction from his nagging thoughts. 

“You don’t even know her name,” Erik teases, breaking off a piece of his waffle cone to dip into the mess that was previously his mint and brownie sundae.

“You right, I don’t,” Dinisha giggles, shaking her bust beneath the cotton, only slightly peeved when Erik didn’t look down… “But this shirt cute and it makes me look good, so that’s all that matters.” 

It was no secret that Dinisha knew nothing about anime, but Erik did and she was determined to make him hers by any means necessary. Even if it meant pretending to be interested in Japanese cartoons.

“You’re such a girl,” Chauncey chuckles, shooting a glance to Erik as Sanaa and Mahari walk into the parlor. His face lights up with dark delight. Looks like he’d get his answers one way or another. 

Meanwhile, Hari pulls a face when she sees the Alphabet Gang sitting in a corner booth of her favorite confectionary. This could not be happening to her. 

Turning to Sanaa, she aggressively whispers through clenched teeth, “I thought you said nothing could ruin ice cream!”

“Nigga if you don’t relax ya damn jaw! Like I knew these niggas were gonna be in here,” Sanaa shrugs.

“At this point, I feel like these niggas stalking me,” Hari fusses, tempted to turn and leave before she can be spotted by mophead. Sanaa grabs her arm, sensing her struggle.

“Hey, this ain’t about them,” she tells her just as gently as she was guiding her forward. “You’re here to have fun with your best friend. We can speak and go on by our business.”

Hari agrees with a nod, following Sanaa over to cordially speak. Might as well get the shit out the way now.

“Hey y’all,” Hari waves. “This is my best friend, Sanaa. Naa, this is Chauncey and Dinisha,” she introduces, purposely ignoring the fine ass, mophead nigga staring a hole into her face. If she weren’t still mad at him, she would’ve allowed her body to react to the way his tongue swiped across his bottom grill. Her outfit was officially a success.

“I’ve seen her around campus,” Dinisha says with a nod. “Her artwork is bomb,” she smiles.

“Thanks,” Sanaa smiles.

Chauncey grins at Mahari’s omission, offering his hand to Sanaa to shake. 

“Nice to meet you, Sanaa. Mahari, can I speak with you for a second?” 

“Sure,” she says, following Chauncey away from the table. “I’ll be right back, Naa,” Mahari offers.

“Five minutes, Three,” Sanaa fusses slightly. “I’ll grab us a table.”

Erik scoffs as the pair walk towards the ice cream bar. He could deal with Hari dissing him, but Chauncey? Nah. That was out of line and he wouldn’t stand for the disrespect.

“Guess I’m invisible then,” he says with an eye roll.

“You ruined her date, E,” Dinisha explains. “I wouldn’t wanna talk to yo black ass either.”

“Oh?” Sanaa questions as if she didn’t know the story. She sits down in Chauncey’s vacant seat, placing her head in her hands as she looks directly at Mamba. She wasn’t ready to call him Erik. “Tell me more.”

When the pair are in front of the bar, Chauncey turns to look down at Hari.

“Listen, I want to apologize for my part on Saturday.” he says solemnly. “What started out as harmless fun turned immature and cruel before I even noticed. I don’t want that one incident to ruin our friendship.”

Mahari smiled up at his sincere expression as he spoke, knowing he meant every word. And she liked him even more. “I accept your apology, Chauncey. It’s your mophead friend that’s a jackass.”

“You are correct, but I’m not responsible for him,” Chauncey laughed before turning towards the bar. “Wanna taste something?” he smirks, playfully wiggling his eyebrows the way Erik does when he’s up to something.

“Sure,” Hari shrugs while Chauncey pulls together the concoction. She eyes him as he drizzles Ghirardelli chocolate over her ice cream and brownie concoction before handing it to her. Erik’s dick twitches from across the room as she watches the nearly orgasmic expression at her first taste.

This nigga doing this shit on purpose, he fumes as he subtly adjusts himself under the table. His eyes sliding back to Dinisha who was talking about….something?

“Mmmm,” Mahari moans around her second mouthful of sinful heaven. “It’s like the perfect brownie and cookie orgy. What is this?”

“Oh, that’s my specialty. I call it the Black Mamba,” Chauncey smirks again as he notices Erik has finally abandons Dinisha with what was probably some half assed excuse.

Hari chokes on a piece of oreo, not expecting him to say those exact words as the man behind the name approaches. She beats against her chest gently as she puts her bowl down, eyes watering.

Chauncey’s eyes buck gently in his skull as he puts two and two together. “Oh shit,” he mumbles to himself before lightly patting her back. “What’s wrong Hari?”

“N-Nothing,” she coughs. “I-I just don’t like snakes,” she says as Erik walks up.

She didn’t? Well, that sucked for his best friend.

“Hari, can we talk?” Erik asks, stepping directly in front of Chauncey. If that nigga can ignore him, he could do it too. 

“No,” she says, slamming her bowl down on the table before storming away. She had promised herself that she wouldn’t let anything ruin her day and she absolutely meant that shit. She was breezing through the parlor quickly, eyes solely on the table that Sanaa had just risen from. She would have made it too, had it not been for the fuck face that was apparently hot on her tail.

Erik gently grabs Hari’s elbow, pivoting them both as he leads her past where Sanaa was gaping like a fish to outside while she fusses the whole time but follows him anyway. Like his grip had given her any choice.

“Unhand me heathen!” Mahari cries as they make it out the front doors. She twists gently away from him, happy when the move makes him dislodge her grip. 

“Oh now you wanna act like Khaleesi for real? Okay, Mahari,” he chuckles and turns towards her. She’s gorgeous but furious. Her heaving chest nearly spilling out of her top, mouth pursed in away that makes him want to suckle. 

Mine, the word flashes through his head before he can stop it. 

“I know damn well,” Sanaa fusses as she presses her entire face and body to the glass of the building, watching them. 

Chauncey chuckles, following the action next to her. He knew damn well too. Dinisha, however, remained seated at the previously occupied table, saltier than the sea salt topping on her ice cream. Here she was serving up sex on a platter, yet Erik was still hung up on her. It made her blood boil.

Before Erik can speak, he spots the pair in the window, shaking his head before walking further down the sidewalk. He was determined to say his peace without any disruption from either of their best friends.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t thump you in your thick ass trachea,” Hari seethes when she rips her arm away from him again. She nearly chuckles when Erik’s eyebrows meet his hairline. 

“Because that’s assault.”

That was…hell that was correct. And she would be damned if she went to jail over a nigga. A fine one but a nigga still. 

“Fair point well made,” she mutters, crossing her arms. 

Lettuce see what the slim jim nigga had to say.

“You’ve been avoiding me all week,” he accused which…wasn’t what he’d meant to say.

Mahari glances at her nails, attempting to have an air of nonchalance that was only belied by the rueful twist to her full lips. “That’s typically what a person does when they don’t want to talk. You look like the type to ghost people, shouldn’t you know?”

Well damn, he muses silently before stepping closer to her; giving her a look only NBA Youngboy could mimic. 

“You right, but that ain’t the point.”

It has its desired effect as Hari tucks her chin to gaze up at him through her lashes. The thought that she was probably extremely submissive in bed had just entered his mind when her demeanor does a complete 180 and she turns to walk away.

Shit. Okay, fuck, Erik sighs in his mind as he reaches out to grab her elbow gently again, turning her back to face him. Damn she was stubborn when she wanted to be.

“Mahari seriously, I wanna apologize.” His sincere tone makes her stop in her tracks and the look in his eyes almost causes her to cave.. Almost.

“Apologize for what exactly, Erik?” she asks, popping her hip as her neck enters swivel territory. She ticks off on her fingers, “Dropping in on my date? Being rude? Calling David cheap? Breaking my belongings? Insinuating that you and I are fucking? Ruining my image? Which part, hm?” Her voice’s octave seems to rise at the same rate as his eyebrows. Lil mama is furious. “First, you fucking gave me your ass to kiss in class  then you wanna act like I fucking belong to you or something. Causing a damn scene, embarrassing me, ruining my friendship and my whole day. So again, what are you sorry about, Erik?”

Erik blinks a few times during the silence that follows her reading. Mind reeling on how to get himself out of this mess.

“Well when you say it like that, it does sound pretty bad,” he mutters.

“Bitch,” Mahari curses before she can stop herself. The sinister look that flashes across his face is not lost on her before his original mask resurfaces.

“First of all,” he starts as he looks down the street both ways, “who is Bitch and where are they? My name is Teacher Nigga,” he jokes, only he is the only one to find it amusing.

“No, your name is asshole and I’m done talking to you,” Mahari stomps off in her chunky heels, ass swaying enticingly. Which Erik should not be paying attention to but he was horny dammit. He hasn’t had a woman read him for filth since Xo and it had his blood singing. 

“Did she just call him a bitch?” Chauncey chuckles, pressing his face further into the glass.

“How you hear that? This glass thick as hell,” Sanaa asks.

“I read her lips and I use that word frequently so I know what it looks like,” he announces proudly.

Oh yeah, both of these niggas annoying as shit, Naa muses with a silent chuckle.

Erik was destined to be a track star tonight because here he was running after Hari, yet again.

“Mahari, wait. You’re right, I was a jerk for ruining your date and I feel terrible for breaking your bracelet. Please forgive me,” he says, reaching into his pocket to retrieve a small black and gold box.

Curiosity gets the best of her as soon as he slips the box into her palm much to her chagrin. She was a sucker for presents. How did the bastard know she was a sucker for presents? 

 “What’s this?” she questions with a lick of her lips.

“Open it and find out,” Erik smirks and stuffs his hands in his pockets. 

Hari forces herself to open the box slowly, just in case this was some sort of trick. She half expected to be greeted by a golden condom because the nigga looks like he apologizes in dick. To her delight, she finds a new bracelet with all the Jiji charms her Miyazaki loving heart can handle. A small smile takes over her face as she touches the cool metal, the craftsmanship immaculate. What was it made of?

Out of the corner of her eye all she can see is white and gold teeth. The nigga was cheesing so big his face had to hurt. 

“Don’t think just because I’m smiling that you’re off the hook,” she attempts to sass, “Annoying ass Teacher Nigga.”

“Aye, there’s my girl,” Erik laughs as he tweaks the end of her cute nose. “I’ll take the smile and being on the hook. I deserve it.”

His girl? That was a new development.

Mahari chews her glossy lip for a moment before asking the question that’s been rolling around in her mind for awhile. 

“What even was that?” she starts, looking up at him with serious eyes. “You do that with all the students you see on a date or am I special?” 

She was definitely a special girl but Erik honestly didn’t know why. He’d spent the better portion of the last 24 hours attempting to pinpoint exactly what it was about Mahari Khamisi Owens that had such a hold over him. Was it the way her eyes lit up when she smiled, the way she furrowed her brows when she was confused or concentrating really hard? The intellect she showed in class? Or the fact that his usual tactics didn’t seem to work on her? Hell, he even considered the fact that she was a virgin to be part of the thrill. The idea that she was untouched excited him in a way that lowkey made him worry. 

Mine, his psyche growled again.

But the problem was that none of that seemed to be the reasoning behind his growing infatuation with his favorite student. He genuinely didn’t know how to answer this question. But she was looking at him so expectantly he had to say something….

“I mean,” he starts before he’s cut off by an aggressive feminine voice.

“Ummm, excuse me!” Sanaa calls, making them turn their heads towards the sound.

They are met by Chauncey, Dinisha, and Sanaa all leaning out of the door to the bar like a nigga totem pole.

“We are on a date, mophead,” Sanna says with a sassy roll of her neck. “And my name is not David.”

“Oop,” Chauncey teases.

Saved by the bestie, Erik thinks before smiling down at Hari. “I don’t want no more smoke. I been getting chewed out all week.”

“You probably deserved it,” she giggles teasingly.

Erik pokes her side as they walk back to the entrance of the parlor, “Shuddup.”

“You just wanted to touch me,” she tells him. 

“Mind your business, Khaleesi. You better get back over there to Mama Sanaa before you get a whooping,” he jokes.

Heat suddenly fills her face and Erik wonders if he’s said something wrong. Mahari merely nods, parting ways with him to enjoy the rest of her night with Sanna.

Erik wonders what the sudden change was as he walks back over to his table. 

Maybe she’s got a spanking kink, he thinks and his dick gives him another telling throb. That’d be…something.

Back at the Alphabet Gang’s table, Erik walks back over to find Chauncey and Dinisha in their original seats. He raises an eyebrow at the way her arms are folded and her knee is bouncing under the table. What was up her ass now?

“What’s wrong with you?” Chauncey asks, mimicking Erik’s expression. 

Dinisha simply ignores him, her green gaze pinned on Erik, “What was that?”

“What was what?”

“You and Hari?”

“Me apologizing to a friend,” Erik states simply as he tosses his black card down on the waiting bill. “Not that I care but, is there a problem?”

“A friend?” she snarls, nearly spitting the word. “So what are we then?”

Erik opens his mouth, but before he can answer, Chauncey sings “We. Are. Farmers! Bum ba dum ba bum bum bum!”

Erik does a spit take, trying his hardest not to cackle in her face.

“You niggas disgust me,” she sneers turning her nose towards the heavens. 

“For real, girl? What we be sayin?” Chauncey smirks, batting his eyelashes while leaning on her arm.

“What the fuck ever. I’ll talk to y’all later.” Dinisha snatches up her bag, storming past Sanaa and Hari’s booth as she makes her dramatic exit.

“Oop, looks like your tethered is upset,” Sanaa smirks when she stalks by their table.

“Bye, Peaches!” Chauncey calls out just as she hits the door, making both Mahari and Sanaa laugh. 

“I like Chauncey,” Sanaa tells Mahari. “Chauncey can stay.”

Hari locks eyes with Erik, nodding her head towards the door to which Erik only bites his lip and shrugs. 

Welp, looks like the bastard ruined yet another night. Too bad Mahari didn’t care.

Mahari’s Chill Anime Beats playlist blares through Sanaa’s bluetooth speaker  as she begins her nighttime skincare routine. She smiles to herself while humming along to 2:59 by chief. Despite all that transpired hours before, she couldn’t help the feeling she got whenever she looked down at the charms that accent her wrist. It was lighter than she originally thought, the metal delicately twinkling in her ears as she sweeps her rose essence across her cheeks and forehead. 

Ole fine ass, sweet ass, big dick ass nigga.

Sanaa cuts her eyes to Mahari, her gaze going directly to the bracelet as Hari shimmies into her Sailor Moon pajamas.

“Bitch ya face bout shiny as hell,” she jokes. “And you adding more oils to it?”

Hari playfully looks over one shoulder, “Now you know rotisserie chicken is my aesthetic.” They share a laugh as Mahari turns out the light and climbs into bed. 

“Ummm, what’s that?” she says, pointing to the bracelet on her arm.

“Oh, this?” Mahari asks, raising her arm to give Sanaa a better look. “Erik gave it to me when we were outside of The Yard.”

“Oop! My bitch getting jewelry! Let me see!” Sanaa requests, pulling her arm over to her. She ran her fingers over the links, “What kind of metal is this?”

“I don’t know but it’s light as hell. I forgot I was even wearing it.”

“I see,” Sanaa whispers, giving her arm back. “I also see that you forgave that nigga way easier that you should have. Have I taught you nothing?”

Hari reaches over to grab the box from her bag and chucks it at Sanaa’s head. “He apologized, okay? That’s more than I thought he was capable of. And it seemed genuine.”

“Uh huh. You was just caught up in his pretty ass face, wasn’t you?” 

Okaaaaaaaaaaaay?Aaaaaaaand? Mahari thinks as she watches Sanaa open the box. And freeze. 

“Ooooh, bitch,” she whispers, holding it closer to her face.

Mahari scrambles over, pushing her face in front of Sanaa’s to figure out what she missed. “What, what is it?”

“This must be the bat signal for dick.” 

“Huh?”

Saana lifts the box slowly to the light, tilting it from side to side to illuminate it more. On the inside of the velvet covered top is a matte snake, nearly invisible if you weren’t looking for it. 

“Holy shit,” Hari gasps, taking the box away from her gently to inspect for herself. Her first alarming thought is that it would make a dope tattoo… Her second thought was -

“You ready to be the next powerpuff girl, sis?”

—————————————-

Back at his condo, Erik is stretched out naked across his king bed, iPad Pro in hand. SInce the crisis with Mahari had been averted, he was now free to think about a more pressing matter.. Like what scene he was going to do next. It had been way too long since he’d added to his profile. While he definitely didn’t need the money, having a steady source of income had grown on him. Not to mention he had to feed his inner kink.

I wonder if she would be down to do a scene, he muses, rubbing a hand lower on his abdomen before dismissing the thought. 

“Baby steps,” he mutters to himself. Even still, his overactive mind immediately conjures up an image he fought earlier. Mahari, bent over his bed with her arms tied behind her awaiting punishment. He bit his lip to keep the low groan at bay; trying not to wonder how many licks it would take for her to start begging. His hand had just slipped a little lower when his iPad dings with an incoming message from Chauncey.

Bro: 😈😈😈😈😈

Aaaand his body was immediately flaccid. Erik rolls his eyes, opening the message to type of his own. 

mAmBa: Nigga what? 

Bro: I think Mahari knows…

mAmBa: Knows what?

Erik could nearly feel Chauncey from wherever he was.

Bro: About the snake in yo draws. 😈😏😝

Erik reads the message at least ten times, silently hoping the wording would change. The sweatiness of his hands cause him to lose his grip on the iPad, sending it crashing down on his face.

“Ah, shit!”

He wasn’t sure which deity he’d pissed off, but this had truly been a terrible horrible no good very bad week.