Heartstrings (BEYNIKA ONESHOTS)

28. Obsessed

Obsessed.

Onika.

I walked into the room, the sound of my heels echoing off the marble floor. The party was in full swing, a blur of designer dresses and glittering lights, but I only had one thing on my mind. One person.

And there she was. Beyoncé, in the corner, sipping on champagne like she owned the damn place. She probably did. She turned her head and caught me looking, a smirk playing at the corner of her lips. That smirk had always pissed me off, yet it had me hooked. The way she could make me feel like I was both everything and nothing in the same breath? Toxic.

I strutted over, feeling her eyes on me with every step. I wasn't even sure why I came, but something about her always pulled me in, like gravity. Love-hate didn't even begin to describe it.

"Beyoncé," I said, my voice cool, but inside, I was burning. "Didn't expect to see you here whatsoever."

She tilted her head, looking at me like she knew exactly what I was feeling. "Onika," she replied, that deep, sultry voice wrapping around my name. "You look... well."

I rolled my eyes. "Cut the bullshit. What are you doing here?"

Her gaze didn't falter, and she took a slow sip of her champagne, letting the moment stretch. "Maybe I wanted to see you."

I laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Yeah? What's the real reason? You've been showing up at every spot I go to. You think I ain't noticed?"

Beyoncé placed her glass down on the table beside her, standing to her full height, looking down at me with that same maddening calm. "Maybe I have. And maybe I wanted you to notice."

My heart skipped a beat at her words, but I ignored it. "What, you obsessed or something?" I said it to hurt her, to knock her off balance, but she just smiled—slow, deliberate, dangerous.

"You know the answer to that."

Her words hit like a punch to the gut, but I wasn't backing down. Not tonight. I crossed my arms, staring her down. "Why?" My voice was sharp, more vulnerable than I wanted it to be. "You don't even like me half the time, Bey."

She stepped closer, close enough that I could smell the familiar scent of her perfume, warm and heady. Her fingers brushed against my arm, light as a whisper, but it sent sparks straight through me.

"Maybe that's the point," she said softly, her eyes locking on mine. "I don't like you... because I can't stop thinking about you."

I hated how she could get under my skin like this, how she made me feel out of control. "So that's it? You're obsessed?"

She smiled, that infuriating, sexy smile. "Maybe I am. So what?"

I didn't have a response to that. I didn't have anything, really. All the witty comebacks I'd practiced in my head vanished as she leaned in, her lips brushing my ear. "You're the one who keeps running, Onika. Not me."

I felt my breath hitch, and for a second, just a second, I wanted to give in. Let the tension between us snap and see where it led. But no. Not tonight.

I stepped back, giving her a look I hoped hid how badly I wanted her. "You're impossible."

She didn't chase me, didn't need to. She just stood there, watching me with that same calm, confident energy she always had, knowing I'd be back.

"You're obsessed," I repeated, as if saying it again would make me believe it less.

Beyoncé's smirk widened. "Maybe I am. But you're obsessed with pretending you're not into it."

I turned on my heel and walked away before she could see the smile tugging at my lips.

This was far from over.

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Selma, xoxo. 💋