𝗟𝗘𝗧𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝟮 𝗠𝗬 𝗨𝗡𝗕𝗢𝗥𝗡 ━━━━━ 𝘁𝘂𝗽𝗮𝗰 𝘀𝗵𝗮𝗸𝘂𝗿.

063.

' SAT , JUNE 13TH 1996. '
jasmine and tyrell's residence ⸻
los angeles , california !

     WHEN I WAKE UP , the room spins for a moment before everything settles into a dull, throbbing ache behind my eyes. I groan, burying my face into the pillow, hoping that maybe, just maybe, if I stay still enough, the pounding in my head will go away. But no such luck.

As I slowly sit up, trying to piece together the events of the previous night, Jasmine walks in with a glass of water and some painkillers. "Good morning, sunshine," she teases, though her tone is gentle. She hands me the glass, and I take it gratefully, swallowing the pills with a grimace.

"What happened last night?" I croak, my voice rough from sleep and dehydration. I rub my temples, trying to massage away the headache that's pulsing in time with my heartbeat. Jasmine raises an eyebrow, leaning against the doorway with her arms crossed. "You really don't remember?"

I close my eyes, trying to pull together the fragments of memories that are starting to come back. "Only a little bit . . we were drinking . . I remember that much," I mumble, feeling a knot of unease in my stomach. "But then I can't remember everything else."

Jasmine sighs and takes a seat on the edge of the bed. "Well, lemme tell you. You got pretty tipsy—okay, more than tipsy. After Kairo left, you kept drinking, even when I told you to stop. Eventually, you decided you needed to go to the bathroom, and that's when you ran into Tupac at least that's what he told me."

I feel a sudden rush of embarrassment as the memories start trickling back. Tupac's concerned face, his arm around my waist, the warmth of his hand on my back as he helped me walk . . the conversation we had, or at least parts of it. "Shit," I mutter, covering my face with my hands. "I remember now . . I said some things, didn't I?"

Jasmine gives me a sympathetic look. "Yeah, you did . . You were pretty open about how you felt about him. He took you back to the guest room to lie down, and I think you two almost kissed, but he stopped himself."

Her words hit me like a ton of bricks. I lower my hands, staring at her in shock. "He stopped himself?" I echo, trying to grasp the situation. The night is slowly coming together in my head—the almost kiss, the tension, and the things I admitted in my drunken haze.

"Yeah," Jasmine confirms with a small nod. "He didn't want to take advantage of you since you were drunk. Tyrell and I came by later to check on you, and that's when Tupac explained what happened. We got you home after you took a nap and told the party you weren't feeling fine."

I sink back into the pillows, my mind racing. Everything is slowly falling into place, but the clearer the picture becomes, the more confused I feel. The memories of the night before are sharp in some places and fuzzy in others, but one thing stands out clearly: I'd let my feelings slip, and Tupac had been there to hear it all.

I let out a long sigh, trying to process everything. "I can't believe I said all that," I murmur, more to myself than to Jasmine, ashamed, embarrassed and confused. "Where's Zahir?"

Jasmine sighs taking a seat down on the edge of the bed, "Zahir's with Tupac . . I was a lil' tipsy myself last night and Tyrell had too much to deal with so he left Zahir with Tupac for the night."

I mentally curse at myself for letting myself get carried away out of immaturity at a party so important as Zahir's first birthday. Getting drunk and leaving the party is such a bad impression for everyone there including Tupac's family.

Jasmine gives me a small smile and nudges me playfully. "First, you drink that water and take care of yourself. Then, you can figure out the rest. It's not the end of the world, Sanai. You were honest about your feelings, and maybe that's not such a bad thing."