Issue #2 | You're My Little Secret (Pt. 3)
Destiny's POV after falling out with Jazz
Straps & the City is an ongoing Black sapphic fiction about four Detroit-based women navigating life, love, and friendship.
Previously: Jazz and Destiny snuck up to Tim’s bedroom and things got more than a little hot and heavy. Afterward, Jazz admitted her true feelings for Destiny, but Destiny suggested they cool things off. Damn…
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“Let’s just try to forget this happened?” Destiny muttered to herself for what was probably the fiftieth time.
She was pacing back and forth in front of Tim’s bedroom door, trying to process what had just occurred.
“I can’t believe I said that shit. Fuck! I’m so fucking dumb,” she hissed.
She hadn’t intended to be so callous, but her brain short-circuited when Jazz unexpectedly declared her feelings.
Although, she had to admit she wasn’t completely surprised by them.
Even before tonight, she could tell that Jazz was a little sweet on her.
It was subtle, but she always sat up a little straighter and fidgeted with her clothes whenever Destiny came around. Her eyes have even briefly found their way to her ass a time or two.
But even with that in mind, it was a shock to learn that she wanted more than just sex.
In more or less words, Jazz had told Destiny that she deserved her more than Tim did.
Hearing that right on the heels of cheating for the first time was too much to handle.
So in a moment of panic, she rejected Jazz’s advances.
To say it didn’t go well would’ve been an understatement.
Destiny wanted a do-over. She needed Jazz to know that lately, she had almost completely taken Tim’s place in her mind.
She knew it was weird, but she had been pretending she was getting dressed up, cooking for, or sleeping next to Jazz instead of him.
And sometimes, while he’s inside her, she’ll shut her eyes and imagine it’s Jazz’s strap instead.
Nothing too crazy.
Tonight felt like an accidental manifestation of those secret desires. None of this was supposed to make it past the visualization phase.
But, it did.
And after it did, Jazz wanted her to confront all those feelings she had been willing to take to the grave.
It scared Destiny shitless.
“What a fucking mess,” she chuckled humorlessly, walking over to Tim’s side of the bed. “I somehow managed to cheat on my man and piss off the girl I cheated with in the same night.”
She slipped on Tim’s Nike slides and paused.
“I just fucked one of Tim’s friends,” she whispered to herself in disbelief.
Her stomach fluttered uncomfortably as she recalled the night’s blunders. Interestingly enough, cheating on Tim hadn’t even felt like the biggest one.
Hurting Jazz so badly that she stormed out of the room is what was eating at her.
Jazz wasn’t exactly someone who wore her heart on her sleeve. That’s what made her emotional reaction so jarring.
I must’ve really fucked up for her to act like that.
Destiny yawned deeply but knew it was time to head back downstairs. She had already been gone for too long, and Tim’s bed was calling her name again.
This time for sleep.
The loud music from the party hit her like a bucket of ice water when she finally opened the door. She anxiously balled her hand into a tight fist.
“Alright, let’s get this shit over with,” she muttered.
Already, she missed the safe cocoon she and Jazz had shared.
Dragging her feet in Tim’s too-big sandals, she went downstairs and instinctively scanned the crowd.
No Jazz.
Destiny refused to believe that she would just leave her like that.
After coaching her through a near-panic attack? After confiding in her about her own issues with mental health?
A switch-up of that magnitude would’ve been insane.
But maybe that was just part of Jazz’s game—being fake vulnerable to get what she wanted.
Destiny knew she was no angel. She’d heard the stories about how much Jazz got around.
Still, she thought things were different when it came to her.
She hoped they were.
Biting the inside of her cheek, Destiny strolled to the kitchen.
Maybe she’s getting a drink or something?
When she got there, a guy wearing a plaid shirt and an easy smile sat perched against the kitchen sink.
Destiny noted that he wasn’t wearing a Halloween costume and decided that he was either super chill or slightly offbeat.
He took a swig from his beer and tipped the bottle in her direction. Destiny returned a shy smile and gave the kitchen a quick once-over, even checking the landing to the basement.
Still no Jazz. She was crushed.
She knew that Jazz leaving after what she said was a possibility, but she wasn’t prepared for it to sting like this.
Fidgeting with her rings, Destiny rejoined the sea of strangers in Tim’s living room. The way the purple and orange Halloween lights illuminated it was suddenly nauseating.
There were a lot of people there. Too many.
She couldn’t walk two steps without being jostled about. She tried taking slow, measured breaths, but they did nothing to quell the growing ball of uneasiness in her chest.
Destiny felt empty.
Jazz’s absence left a certain coldness that was hard to explain. It reminded her of the feeling she gets when she wakes up from a bad dream and there’s no one there to comfort her.
She wished this was just a bad dream.
In a self-soothing motion, she folded her arms with her hands tucked into her armpits. Her eyes began to water, so she tilted her head back, determined not to cry in front of these people.
When she caught sight of the clock on the wall, she gasped—her distress quickly flipping to outrage. It was half past eleven.
This nigga’s been gone for two and a half hours?! He hasn’t even texted! Yeah, Tim can kiss my ass. I’m not staying here.
In a huff, Destiny headed for Tim’s room so she could gather her things and leave. She had originally planned on staying the night, but after this level of disrespect, that idea was dead.
Her new plan quickly changed, however, when she rounded the corner leading to the staircase and saw her.
An oasis in the middle of the chaos.
A pacifying touch after a nightmare.
The person she suddenly didn’t want to be without.
Jazz.
Destiny smiled to herself as the giant butterfly in her stomach beat its wings.
Even with her back turned and a cloud of marijuana smoke partially obstructing her view, she could tell it was her.
I should’ve known she wouldn’t leave me. Of course, she wouldn’t.
It was pathetic how quickly Jazz could shift Destiny’s mood. Relief washed over her, relaxing almost every muscle in her body. It felt like she had sunk into a warm bath.
Unfortunately, that relief was short-lived.
Destiny had to keep her jaw from scraping the ground when the veil of smoke began to clear.
Jazz wasn’t alone.
“Wait. Who the fuck…?”
A woman sat across from her. A pretty one.
She wore a snug-fitting blue button-down with a pair of aviator sunglasses hooked at her bosom. The mirrored lenses glinted in the light as she scooted her chair closer to Jazz’s.
Destiny couldn’t help but laugh at the fucked up synchronicity of it all.
This girl was wearing the cop costume she had passed on at the last minute while chatting up the woman she had also passed on at the last minute.
Whoever’s in charge of the simulation needs their ass beat.
The woman grabbed Jazz’s blunt and took a hit.
She looked at her playfully as she opened her mouth and let the smoke billow out.
Jazz’s hand rested casually on the side of the woman’s knee, absentmindedly stroking it with her thumb.
Destiny suddenly felt claustrophobic and weighed down in Tim’s oversized clothes.
Her heart beat like a stampede in her chest as she tried to make sense of what was happening.
But, through her befuddlement came a sucker punch of clarity.
Didn’t she just have her face buried in my ass telling me I was beautiful and shit?
As far as Destiny was concerned, Jazz was being childish. At least when she had hurt her, it was unintentional.
Flaunting another woman in her face like this was disproportionate to her offense.
“Looks like I’m not the only one who can turn it on and off,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes.
She unclenched her jaw and willed her shoulders to relax.
If this was the game Jazz wanted to play, Destiny had to appear unfazed.