Teaser | Issue #5 - The Closer I Get To You

Pillow talking with the homie's girl is the CRAZIEST of work...

Straps & the City is an ongoing Black sapphic fiction about four Detroit-based women navigating life, love, and friendship.

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Previously: An ex-lover’s quarrel at brunch, followed by Bailey getting up close and personal with the community strap, and Jazz making another secret late-night visit.

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“I thought you were ignoring me,” Destiny said as she interlaced her fingers with Jazz’s.

She stared at their hands, seemingly transfixed by how well they fit together.

“And to be honest, I would’ve understood. I still haven’t stopped replaying how I did you at the Halloween party.”

Jazz’s expression soured.

That night, she’d used her words and her body to bare her soul.

She’d never allowed herself to be so exposed—not even with Cassidy.

But the rejection that followed was so flippant that when she got back home, she cried for the first time in years.

It was one of the more hurtful things she’d experienced.

And yet, none of that mattered anymore as she lay side-by-side with the woman she couldn’t seem to get off her mind.

“Nah,” she murmured. “The way I’m feelin’ bout you, I don’t think I woulda been able to do that.”

When Jazz had finally seen that month-old DM from Destiny at the club, she couldn’t get to her quickly enough.

Being with her again after weeks of no contact mended her soul—never mind the fact that she was the one who’d wounded it in the first place.

She brought the back of Destiny’s hand to her lips, closing her eyes and breathing in her scent before pressing her knuckles with a soft kiss.

“I feel like you got me under some typa spell. I ain’t used to all that,” Jazz continued.

She turned a suspicious eye.

“You ain’t put your blood in them red velvet cupcakes, did you?”

Destiny swatted her arm, laughing so hard that her nose crinkled and her eyes turned into slits, nearly disappearing.

Jazz noted the depth of her dimples and imagined how snugly the tip of her pinky might fit inside one.

This girl is so fuckin’ beautiful, bro.

A small patch of morning sun slipped through the corner of the window, framing Destiny’s lips like a dreamy portrait.

Jazz smiled at the memory of those same lips being used to make her skin tingle the night before.

“Since we askin’ questions and shit,” Destiny smirked, propping her satin-wrapped head against her open palm. “I got one.”

Jazz turned over on her side, playfully mirroring her posture.

“Alright, hit me wit’ it.”

Destiny’s eyes narrowed accusingly.

“Did you fuck that girl after the party?” she asked. “That Ashlee girl?”

Now it was Jazz’s turn to laugh.

She threw her head back, letting out a howl so boisterous that it knocked her back onto the pillow.

Ashlee had completely slipped her mind.

She’d pettily used her to make Destiny jealous, and until now, wasn’t sure how well her little scheme had worked.

When she saw the look of displeasure on Destiny’s face, she couldn’t help but quirk a smile. She had completely cracked Jazz’s heart open, but was so innocently unaware of that fact.

Little did she know, Jazz hadn’t entertained, let alone fucked, anyone since that party.

“I ain’t playin’, Jazz,” Destiny smacked, curling her top lip. “Did you fuck her or not?”

Jazz tried to gather herself, lightly pinching the inside of her arm to keep a straight face.

“No,” she responded without an ounce of play in her voice.

She didn’t want there to be even a hint of doubt about whether or not she was being truthful.

“How could I have fucked her when you were the only thing I could think about that night?”

Being so candid made Jazz’s stomach do a mini somersault.

She was putting her heart and pride on the line for a woman who’d already burned her.

A woman who wasn’t even fully available to her.

Tim briefly came to mind before being pushed aside yet again in favor of his girlfriend.

Jazz’s eyes traced her face.

Destiny took her on the type of high that couldn’t be purchased.

“I took her home. That’s it,” she shrugged. “She tried to get me to come inside, but I wasn’t feelin’ it. Not after you.”

Jazz figured there was no point in trying to pussy foot around her feelings when the stakes were already so high.

A smug smile tugged at the corner of Destiny’s lips.

“You like me,” she declared.

Jazz gave a gentle shake of her head.

“Too fuckin’ much,” she groaned. “And I ain’t got no business feelin’ like this.”

She looked at Destiny seriously.

“I shouldn’t even be here.”

A solemn silence followed.

It was charged with the discomfort of an inconvenient truth.

“I never answered that question you asked me at the Halloween party,” Destiny finally noted cautiously.

“About if I’m even happy with Tim?”

Jazz stiffened at the mention of his name.

We ain’t never alone. I can always feel him wit’ us.

“I think you already knew the answer when you asked, but no, I’m not,” she continued.

A feeling that sat between frustration and genuine curiosity settled over Jazz.

“Then why you still wit’ the nigga?”

Her irritation came through strong.

There was a dull sense of shame present, but it played somewhere in the background, soft enough to be forgotten.

At the forefront of her mind was finding out why this woman, who was so lovely, sexy, and amazing, would settle like this.

Destiny looked into Jazz’s eyes searchingly, as if waiting for them to feed her the answer.

“I don’t know,” she replied with an almost imperceptible shrug.

“You kinda make me feel like I’m floatin’. Like I’m not in control. And I guess Tim feels like somethin’ familiar that I can hold onto to keep my feet on the ground.”

Jazz bobbed her head up and down. She empathized.

Destiny gave her that same discombobulated feeling.

At least I ain’t the only one knocked off my square.

“When’s your birthday?” she blurted, immediately regretting it.

She had the unfortunate habit of saying the quiet part out loud whenever she was in Destiny’s presence.

Thoughts she would usually keep under lock and key escaped, leaving her to deal with the messy aftermath.

Destiny’s face scrunched in confusion.

“Huh?” she smiled, bewilderedly. “Why?”

Quietly kicking herself, Jazz trudged on.

“‘I was kinda hopin’ we could celebrate it together?”

There was an uncharacteristic self-consciousness in her tone.

Destiny stared back skeptically.

“Jazz…”

Her apprehension was reasonable.

Sneaking off to be with one of your boyfriend’s closest friends on your birthday certainly presented its own unique set of risks.

“Yeah, I know you prolly already got plans,” Jazz responded, lifting a hand in acknowledgement.

“But I’m willin’ to get in wherever I fit. I don’t care if I gotta wait all night, I just wanna be together.”

A quick micro expression flashed across Destiny’s face.

She shot up, digging menacingly through the sheets until her t-shirt materialized.

What did I say that was so wrong?

Jazz’s brows knit together as she followed Destiny’s lead, haphazardly searching their love nest for her clothes.

“Yo, what’s goin’ on?” she probed.

She didn’t understand why Destiny was suddenly so skittish.

She was up on her feet, eyes distant, movements erratic as she dressed.

“Nothin’,” she threw over her shoulder as she slipped on a pair of red Crocs. “You hungry? I think I got eggs. You like eggs?”

She snatched her phone off the bed and spun toward the door, but Jazz reached around her and pushed it shut before she could evade her.

“Slow down,” she ordered.

She stood in front of Destiny, eyes pleading.

“You can’t keep runnin’ from me like this.”

Jazz was willing to sustain herself on small pieces of her affection but drew the line at chasing her down for them.

Heaving a sigh, Destiny plopped down on her bed with a bounce.

The outline of her silhouette against the dimness was shaped like a woman who’d long forgotten her worth.

“I’m sorry,” she conceded.

“Communication is kinda hard for me. People don’t usually give a fuck about how I feel, so I stopped tellin’ em.”

Deep down, Jazz knew that ‘people’ meant Tim.

But, she wasn’t him, even though life would be much easier right now if she were.

She sat down next to Destiny on the bed and held on to her hands. There was a slight tremor in them.

Damn. I this this nigga broke her.

Jazz put her grievances aside, instead feeling pulled to offer Destiny the care and attention she’d been so clearly lacking.

“You can talk to me,” she murmured. “Please don’t push me away ‘cause of what another nigga did.”

Destiny closed her eyes and smiled.

Someberly.

Soul-crushingly.

“The reason I tried to leave was ‘cause…”

Jazz leaned in, intent on hearing her out so she could find a solution.

“Why, baby? Talk to me,” she coaxed.

“I don’t wanna spend my birthday with Tim. Or anybody else.”

She spoke slowly, carefully choosing her words.

“Except you. But that makes me feel guilty.”

Destiny pulled her hands away from Jazz’s hold, replacing it with one of the knots at the end of her waistband’s strings.

She rolled it between her fingers and cast her eyes low as Jazz watched her try her best not to unravel.

“Does he usually go all out for your birthday?”

Destiny’s sudden burst of laughter was startling.

“Fuck no,” she spat bitterly. “Last year, he spent it watching football. The whole day. With his boy.”

As if unable to accept what she’d just heard, Jazz shook her head in denial.

“Repeat that?” she said, with a light chuckle, certain she had misunderstood the first time. “He did what?”

The string was now wrapped around Destiny’s index finger, coiled so tightly that the tip had become a bright red bulb.

“Yeah, his people did a little somethin’ for me the night before,” she shrugged noncommittally.

“I guess he took that as a free pass to spend my actual birthday however he wanted.”

Destiny tried to play it off as something light or humorous, but the timid slump of her shoulders suggested otherwise.

She was embarrassed.

But as if finding catharsis in her admission, she pressed on.

“They stayed out in the living room.”

Her voice grew hollow as she recounted.

“I stayed in his bedroom, eating snacks and watching Netflix. I convinced myself it wasn’t a big deal, but now…I don’t know.”

That’s how this nigga been movin’?!

Whatever prior allegiance Jazz felt to Tim had officially evacuated the building.

She wanted to find him, beat the fuck out of him, and then force him to grovel at Destiny’s feet.

Jazz gazed at the woman before her.

Someone who deserved the world, but was instead offered crumbs.

It disgusted her.

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that,” she said, lifting Destiny’s chin. “Let me make up for it. I can show you how a real nigga treats their woman.”

Jazz’s phone buzzed beside her on the bed, jolting them both.

Neither had spoken the words aloud, but this secret rendezvous was laced with nerves from the possibility of being caught.

Stealing a glance, she saw that it was a message from Bria:

“Bitch! No yo ass did not miss brunch like that!”

Her eyes shot open.

Shit, how is it this late already?

Stolen time always seemed to pass the quickest.

Another message came through:

“Come to Bailey’s. We talkin’ about last night. Don’t worry Cass ain’t here. Work stuff again.”

Jazz rolled her eyes and massaged the stress from her temples before peering back at Destiny.

Her chest rose and fell with uneasy rapidity, but she stayed put.

She was trying, and Jazz appreciated that.

“Look, I gotta get up outta here,” Jazz spoke gently. “But before I go, can you promise me you’ll at least think about your birthday?”

Like a child confirming they could be trusted with an important task, Destiny nodded eagerly.

“Yeah, I can do that.”

Jazz took Destiny’s chin delicately between her index finger and thumb and stared.

Not knowing when they would be able to meet again, she wanted to memorize her features as best she could.

She leaned in, kissing her.

It was a bittersweet tango of want and ache, and she savored every bit of both the pleasure and the pain.

It took disobeying every cue from her body to finally pull herself away.

Studying Destiny one last time from the doorway of her bedroom, Jazz’s heart broke a little.

Having to leave her felt unnatural.

Having to share her felt cruel and unusual.

Jazz wanted all of her all of the time.

Maybe one day…

“Imma call you later, Des.”

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