Grooving to Life's Beat

Like a Pill, Like a Prayer

The taxi pulled up to the curb, and before I even had time to second-guess everything about this night, Angela had already linked her arm through mine, tugging me out of the car. The pavement was slick under my heels, still damp from an earlier rain, the chill of the night sending a shiver up my spine.

Clubbing had never really been my thing. If it weren't for Angela or, let's be honest, Marshall... I wouldn't even be here. Lately, it felt like I kept ending up in places I never would have considered before. And tomorrow morning? I was supposed to be in Alfred's office, sharp and focused. But I will worry about later!

The Shelter club was just in front of us, looming ahead, the entrance buzzing with people. A group of guys were scattered just outside. Porter, Gordy, Bizarre and a couple of others, clapping hands, cracking jokes, waiting for us to go in.

"Look at these two," Gordy grinned, flicking his cigarette to the ground, the moment he saw me and Angela walking. "Damn, y'all clean up nice."

Angela smirked, giving a slow spin for effect, her baggy jeans hanging low on her hips paired effortlessly with a cropped white tank and an high heels. It was so effortless. So her.

Me? I was stepping outside my usual style, trading my polished look for something that felt a little more... undone. A short jeans skirt, paired with a white top and an oversized leather jacket. It wasn't my usual, but tonight, it felt right.

As we stepped closer to the entrance, Marshall suddenly reached out. He had been walking a step behind, talking to Proof about something I wasn't paying attention to. But then, out of nowhere, his fingers brushed mine, and suddenly, he wasn't just near me. He was holding my hand.

Like it was nothing.
Like it was something.

A silence settled over the group for half a second. A beat long enough for everyone to notice.

Angela's eyes nearly popped out of her head as she watched the whole thing unfold. She hadn't expected this. None of us had. But instead of questioning it, she just released my arm, subtly slowing her steps, letting me walk beside him.

"Coming?" Marshall said, his voice low, his thumb brushing the inside of my palm like he was checking to see if I'd let go.

I didn't.

I let him pull me forward, myheart pounded, but not in fear. I felt safe. I felt wanted. I liked being at his side.

As we stepped inside, the energy was different from the last rapp battle I have been at. It wasn't as wild, not as underground, but still charged. As for my understanding, this wasn't as relevant as the other one, but more for fun purposes.

We slid into a booth near the MC's table, the guys immediately falling into their rhythm. Drinks ordered. Daps exchanged. A couple of nods, some side comments, and that unspoken shift as they locked into the zone. Marshall leaned in close to Proof, their conversation low, words I couldn't quite catch over the music.

Then, he turned to me, voice casual but eyes knowing. "Be right back."

Before I could say something, he was already moving, weaving through the crowd with Proof, heading toward the MC's table like he belonged there. Which, of course, he did.

A strangled sound, something between a gasp and a choked laugh, came from across the booth and I turned just in time to see Angela staring at me. Wide-eyed, hands dramatically frozen midair like she was about to catch a holy revelation.

"Okay, who is this?" she hissed, eyes darting between me and the spot Marshall had just left, like maybe she could still see him standing near me.

I frowned. "Marshall?!"