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"Girl get it together." I sighed, combing through my messy hair, my mind circling back to him.
These last few days I couldn't seem to think of anything but Smoke.
It was like I was stuck. Stuck in the past. Stuck on him. Stuck on stupid.
(212) 764-5835: I know I'm the last person you want to hear from, but maybe we can link up and finally put everything on the table. Let me know when you're free Pooh.
It didn't take long to figure out that the unknown number belonged to Smoke, it was obvious. How he got my number I don't know, but I'm sure it was Eric or Nadia's doing. Either way he was ready to talk and while I craved for closure, I wasn't sure if I was emotionally ready for the answers he had for me.
A new day had begun and I had yet to open or respond to his text, which I'm sure left him anxious. But, we were operating on my time now and I was setting the pace to my liking.
"This damn hair." I groaned, running my fingers through my scalp. It was definitely time for some new bundles, because dealing with my own hair was a job in itself.
"Girl you look a mess, but imma get you together." I mumbled to myself as I pulled my curls into a topknot.
As Go Gina by SZA blared through my Beats pill I roamed my room aimlessly before stepping into my closet, looking for today's look.
"What to wear, what to wear." I sung before grabbing my phone and checking the weather. The sun was shining bright this afternoon at 85 degrees, a perfect day to show a little skin.
Settling on a pair of high waisted light washed denim shorts, I paired it with a white tank bodysuit and a sheer nude kimono cardigan. As I looked for shoes to complete my Sunday Slay I was snapped out of my thoughts by an incoming FaceTime call.
"Hey sissy." I smiled as my oldest sister Seven appeared on the screen.
"Hi my love, what are you up to?" She spoke, her pouty lips curving into a smile instantly.
"Trying to look like something. Do you see this shit, I look a hot mess." I propped my phone on my vanity giving her a full body view of my grey boxers and purple & white Nike tee.
"You do, but you still cute though." She winked, making me chuckle.
My sisters were my heart. Seven, Solé & Sage - the trifecta is what they called us, a nickname cultivated by my mother. To Zola Alexander we were her perfect three until that three turned into four. Following my birth she was told she would no longer be able to conceive, but low and behold five years later her baby boy was born and Santi was his name, her little saint.
