He rushed into the café thirty minutes later, hair still damp from a two-minute shower. Sierra was already waiting, arms crossed, lips pursed in a scowl.
"Do you even own a clock, Deon? We've been waiting forever."
Keyon leaned back, grin lazy. "Chill. Man probably just met a lady friend. Let him live."
Sierra scoffed. "Please. Deon's a gentleman. He wouldn't just bed a woman on the first night." She took a sip of her drink, muttering softer, almost too soft to catch: "...I would know."
Deon froze. His eyes flicked to her, catching the edge in her gaze. Something sharp and unspoken hung in the air.
So when Keyon leaned in for a dap, Deon smirked and took it. "Yeah," he said loud enough for Sierra to hear, "I might've gotten up to something."
Sierra's mouth fell open.
Deon slid into his seat like nothing had happened, calm on the outside but thrumming inside with a quiet satisfaction. You don't know me as well as you think, Sierra.
Deon leaned back, smug grin tugging at his lips. "You trying to catch flies or something?"
Her cheeks flushed hot. "Oh, shut up."
"Never seen her mouth that wide. Not even—"
"Keyon!" Sierra shouted, voice rising enough that a couple tables turned their heads.
The waiter walked over, frowning. "Please keep it down."
Sierra sank into her seat with a glare, arms crossed. Keyon barked out a laugh, slapping Deon's shoulder. Deon only smiled softly, watching Sierra's pout. It was the same look she used to give them when they were kids and he and Keyon would gang up on her.
The memory slipped over him like a warm blanket.
Fourth grade. Lunchroom buzzing, the smell of sloppy joes and tater tots. Sierra sitting across from them, chattering away with her mouth full, crumbs flying.
"Close your mouth when you chew, Sierra," Deon had said, trying to sound serious but already fighting a laugh.
"Yeah," Keyon piled on, grinning, "you look like a cow."
Her face had gone beet red. "Do not!"
Deon remembered how her blush crept all the way to her ears. He remembered how cute he thought it was — how he'd stared a little too long before laughing with Keyon.
Now, here she was across from him again, same pout, same flushed cheeks.
And it still warmed his heart.
Sierra leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. "So what've you been up to, Deon?"
He shrugged, flashing a lazy grin. "Ah, you know. Nothing changed about Changes."
"True," Keyon cut in, grinning. "Still rockin' that same outdated style you always had."
Deon sat up straighter, hand on his chest like he'd been mortally wounded. "Outdated? Nah, brotha. I'm just uniquely me. Always imitated, never duplicated."
Keyon laughed loud enough to turn heads. "Man, don't nobody wanna be like you."
"I think his style is cute," Sierra said suddenly.
Deon froze. "Damn, don't say that. Now I'm losing confidence."
"But it is," she pressed, cheeks tinged with pink. "It's not flashy like some guys. It's very... cute."
Deon chuckled nervously, shaking his head. "You're making me feel like I'm lil' bro, Sierra. Ease up."
"I don't get it," she said, her smile sly, eyes dancing.
Deon met her gaze. Yeah. She definitely got it.
The Catch-Up Turns Heavy
The three of them were buzzing off food and drinks, the teasing flowing like old times. But then Keyon raised his glass, eyes gleaming.
"Five years," he said. "Five years married to this woman and she still hasn't kicked me out." He bumped Sierra's shoulder. "Crazy, right?"
Sierra smiled softly, leaning into him. "Five years."
Deon forced a smile, lifting his glass too. "Congrats. That's... that's big."
Keyon leaned forward, grinning. "You know, I never did ask you — why'd you turn down being my best man, man? I mean, we been boys since the sandbox. Still kind of burns when I think about it."
The smile on Deon's face faltered. His eyes dropped to his drink. The room seemed a little louder, the laughter from the next table a little sharper.
He remembered.
⸻
Flashback – Days Before the Wedding
Sierra's apartment. The clock blinked 1:14 a.m. when Deon knocked on her door.
She answered barefoot, hair messy, an oversized t-shirt slipping off one shoulder. A glass of wine dangled loosely from her hand.
"Deon," she breathed, relief flooding her face. "Thanks for coming."
He stepped inside, awkward. This was past platonic hours. Way past. But she looked shaken, vulnerable.
"What's going on?"
She sank onto the couch, tucking her legs under her. "I'm... I'm nervous. About the wedding. About everything."
Deon sat down across from her. "That's normal, right? Cold feet happens."
"I guess. It's just—" She stared into her glass, then at him. "I love how you always just hear me out. You've always been that way."
He shrugged. "Yeah. It's what friends do."
"No." Her gaze sharpened, even through the glaze of wine. "It's what you do. For me. If only you were a bit more aggressive... I wouldn't even have these doubts."
"Huh? How's this on me?"
She grabbed a throw pillow and flung it at his face. "Shut up! You herbivore!"
Deon pulled it down, scowling. "I'm no herbivore, woman. I just don't eat from other people's plate."
Her eyes softened, mouth quirking into something between a smile and a frown. Her voice dipped low.
"Not even if it was your plate first?"
The air went still. Deon's throat tightened. He swallowed hard. "...Was it, though?"
She leaned closer, hazel eyes shimmering. "Could've been."
He chuckled weakly, trying to shake the weight off. "Coulda, shoulda, woulda—"
"Don't," she cut in. "Don't do that."
The silence that followed burned more than any words could.
⸻
Back to Present
Deon blinked, snapping back to the café. Sierra was watching him carefully, like she remembered too.
Keyon chuckled, sipping his drink. "Come on, man. You gonna keep that reason to yourself forever?"
Deon forced a laugh, hiding the storm behind his eyes. "Guess I just didn't feel right standing up there. That's all."
Sierra's cheeks flushed. She dropped her gaze.
Keyon, oblivious, raised his glass again. "Well, your loss. Best man speech was fire."
Deon's smile was thin. His heart, heavy.
The laughter had died down, but Deon's chest was tight. The food, the drinks, the nostalgia—it was all sitting heavy. Or maybe it was just Sierra.
He leaned back, forcing a grin. "You know what? I think I need to let y'all have some couple time. Third-wheeling is making me feel like a loser. Your lovey-dovey aura's a little too much to take in large doses."
Keyon laughed, already flagging the waiter. "Fair enough, man. We'll catch up later."
"Yeah," Sierra said softly, her eyes lingering.
Keyon rose quickly, patting his pocket. "I'll go settle the bill." His grin widened as the receptionist across the café caught his eye. She smiled back. The eagerness in his stride wasn't lost on Deon.
Sierra stood, stepping close before Deon could move away. She wrapped her arms around him, pressing in firmly. "We'll see you later, right? Drinks in our room?"
Deon hesitated, his voice rough. "Maybe. Let's see how the rest of the day goes. Enjoy your man."
"I see him every day." Her breath was warm against his ear. "I miss seeing you."
He swallowed hard. "You've seen me. Nothing changed—"
"—About Changes. Yeah, I remember." She pressed even closer, her perfume clinging to his shirt. "Later then."
She finally let him go, her hands sliding away slower than they should have. She turned back to Keyon, linking her arm through his. But just before they stepped out, she glanced back over her shoulder at Deon, eyes smoldering with something that made his pulse spike.
Then she was gone.
Her scent lingered, stubborn, clinging to him like a phantom touch. A constant reminder.
Cunning little vixen.