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The house was finally quiet.
I'd been pacing my room since ten, waiting for the sound of the TV downstairs to cut off. It did around 10:42, replaced by silence... then the faint creak of the old couch when my dad stretched out on it. By eleven, I heard the soft, steady rhythm of his snoring. Deep and unbothered.
My phone buzzed.
Keisha: We outside.
I hit her back with a thumbs up and crept toward the back door, the one that didn't squeal when it opened. I left it cracked just enough to slide back in later.
The moment I stepped into the yard, I felt free.
Keisha's car was out front, music thumping low. She was in the passenger seat, legs crossed, lip gloss poppin'. Two of her homegirls were in the back, laughing over something I couldn't hear yet.
I slid into the front seat. "Told you I still got it."
Keisha grinned. "You lucky he a heavy sleeper."
The girl driving... a dark-skinned baddie with lashes long enough to sweep floors — passed me a backwood and a smirk. "YN, right? I'm Karlae."
"Nice to meet you," I said, taking the blunt without thinking.
Keisha cracked open a mini bottle of something clear and strong, handed it to me with a wink. "To being back."
I hit the blunt, sipped the bottle, and leaned back in the seat. Atlanta at night was a whole different animal... warm, alive, full of secrets. It felt like something electric had just started buzzing in my veins.
When we pulled up to Cascade, the parking lot was damn near full. People were outside posted up — girls in short sets and gold chains, boys flexing in designer, weed smoke curling into the air like perfume. The bass from inside the building shook the ground.
We stepped out the car, and the scene hit me like a wave.
This wasn't the Cascade I remembered from summer visits with my dad when I was younger... this was grown. Live. The crowd was beautiful, Black, and bold. Thick women with long nails and better fits than half the industry. Dudes with gold grills, neck tattoos, and ice on their wrists. The whole block looked like a music video.
I couldn't lie... it made me feel alive.
Karlae lit another blunt as we walked toward the entrance. "Y'all ready?"
Keisha smirked. "YN ain't ready. She fresh out the cage."
"I'm good," I said, adjusting my top. But the truth was, I felt like I'd just stepped into a dream I'd been kept away from too long.
Cascade was calling.
Inside was a movie.
The lights were low, neon swirls bleeding across the floor as skaters glided by with perfect rhythm. The DJ was in his bag, blending old-school ATL anthems with trap hits that had the whole rink vibrating. It smelled like shea butter, Hennessy, and hookah smoke — wild and home all at once.
