"Why you so good to me?"
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In South Memphis, a rare love story unfolds, consisting of Jordan falling for Sylena and pursuing her, while Sylena tries her best to deny Jordan's strong efforts to sway her.
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The sudden shaking of my hands was definitely not a good sign. Despite me being out of the house with hopes to relieve some stress, I found my anxiety a lot higher than it should've been. In the mirror, I tried to fix my makeup with the disposable round sponge I'd gotten from my purse. It was so hot in the club that I'd started sweating off the little foundation that I wore. By the minute, the shaking of my hand began to irritate me even more, causing me stop.
"I need a drink," I whispered to myself.
After throwing the sponge away, I applied one more layer of my Fenty Glow Lip Luminizer before walking out of the small bathroom. My stilettos clicked across the dance floor as I tried to find my way back to Yandy, one of my good friends since junior high. Megan Thee Stallion's "Ride or Die" blared throughout the club as I maneuvered past everyone on the overcrowded floor. Pulling the tight dress further down my thighs, I quickly strode across the floor, in search of her. After pulling her away from the random dude she was twerking on, I figured she'd be ready to cuss me out, but after taking a good look at my face, on hers was painted a look of worry.
"Damn, girl! What's wrong?"
"I think I'm finna gon' head out," I told her, hoping my voice didn't sound as shaky and unstable as I felt. Before she could interrogate me, I blurted, "I'm tired, I'm stressed, and I got homework due–I think I just need to gon' back to the house, Yams. I'm not feeling it tonight," I admitted, clutching my purse against my shoulder.
Yandy frowned, asking, "What? We just got here!"
"I know! Maybe I just shouldn't have came–"
"Sly, girl, chill... loosen up. You ain't missin' nothing at that boring apartment of yours."
"I know," I held a hand up to my head. The truth was that I needed that night out. But between work, school, and my business, I was so overwhelmed that I couldn't even enjoy myself.
"What you mean 'You know?' What you stressin' for then?"
Yandy was ghetto-fabulous, beautiful, and the most down to earth person I knew. One thing we had in common was our grind. When I met her ten years prior, I initially was annoyed by her loud personality, her raw and unfiltered attitude, and her strong, obnoxious southern accent. All it took was Miss Williams partnering us up for a chemistry project in the 11th grade, and we hit it off instantly. She wasn't just a friend; we shared the bond of the closest sisters you knew. I shrugged in response to her question, blowing out a stress-filled breath of air.
