A/n: at this point I'm neglecting my other book... ———
Bey's POV
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
___
The SUV pulled into the underground garage, and I followed Y/n as she led me through this beautiful modern building to a private elevator. As we rode up, I couldn't help but take in the quiet sophistication of the place. Again, it wasn't something I expected from her.
The lighting was cool-toned, the furniture minimal but effortlessly stylish, and the walls were lined with plaques and awards. It wasn't showy, though. Nothing screamed for attention. It just was—and somehow that was the most impressive thing about it. Y/n didn't need to explain; the place spoke for itself.
"Aye, Ima be right back." She said, loosening her white button-up as she headed down the hallway. "Make yourself comfortable, ma."
"I'll be quick."
I nodded, letting my eyes wander around the penthouse as I moved through the space. The piano in the corner caught my attention first, then the stacks of vinyl records nearby. I made my way towards the kitchen island, where a book was cracked open with an ash holder next to it.
James Baldwin.
I smiled, impressed.
A few minutes later, Y/n reappeared in a white tee, light washed jorts, and her signature gold chain hanging around her neck. Her fitted New York Dodgers hat was barely sitting over her loose yet bushy curls, with the faint scent of cedarwood and something spicy mixed in the air, just enough to make me pause.
I would have complimented her but...
"You keep books open like that to make people think you read?" I teased, my gaze shifting away from her and back onto the book she left open.
Y/n smacked her lip, rolling her eyes but smiled right after. "Don't play me. That was mid chapter." She walked over to me, her voice playful but confident. "You think you know me?"
I couldn't help but laugh, following her as she moved towards the door. "No."
"I believe you, though...Brooklyn." The words slipped out before I could even stop them, a playful challenge hanging in the air.
Y/n shot me a look, her smile sly. "Yeah, aight." She said, her voice a lil' raspy all of a sudden. I felt that pull again, just at the sound of her voice. But I wasn't quite sure if I was ready to admit how much I liked it. ---
The ride to my place was silent, with me just watching the city pass by in slow, hazy flashes of orange and gold.
Y/n had stripped herself of her hat now, letting it rest on the seat beside her.
I glanced as the white tee she had on clung to her body in all the right places. The cotton stretching snug over her chest and stomach, showing off the dips and curves of muscle and ink from her tattoos.
