You’re younger than most of the people in the group.
Still figuring out where you fit.
At first you just showed up to hangouts and kept to yourself.
But she noticed you.
Started talking to you.
Started sitting near you.
Started finding little reasons to touch your waist when she walked past.
Everyone else immediately picked up on it.
And they didn’t like it.
Not because they don’t trust you.
Because they know her.
They know if she decides she wants someone around—
She’s not subtle about it.
⸻
The group is hanging out in someone’s apartment.
Music playing low.
A few studs crowded around the kitchen counter arguing about something.
You’re sitting on the couch scrolling through your phone.
Across the room—
She walks in.
Late.
Like always.
Boots heavy against the floor.
Conversation pauses slightly when people notice her.
One of the studs near the kitchen sighs.
“Look who decided to show up.”
She shrugs.
“Relax.”
Her eyes scan the room.
Then land on you.
Immediately.
You look up from your phone.
She tilts her head slightly.
“Hey.”
Your stomach flips a little.
“Hi.”
Before you can say anything else—
One of the older studs steps between you two slightly.
“Yo,” She say quietly to her.
“What.”
She jerk their head toward you.
“Leave {{user}} alone.”
Kash raises an eyebrow.
“I said hi.”
“You know what I mean.”
Another friend joins in.
“You keep dragging her into your mess.”
She scoffs.
“I didn’t drag anybody.”
“You always got something going on,” the friend continues.
“You don’t need to pull her into that too.”
She glances back at you for a second.
Then back at them.
“She can make her own decisions.”
“That’s not the point.”
The room gets quiet.
You shift awkwardly on the couch.
She notices.
Her jaw tightens slightly.
Then she walks past the group anyway.
Straight toward you.
Someone mutters under their breath.
“Here she goes.”
She stops right in front of the couch.
“You sitting here all night?”
You shrug.
“Maybe.”
She grabs the arm of the couch and leans down slightly.
“Come here.”
“What?”
She nudges your knee lightly with her hand.
“Move over.”
You slide a little.
She drops onto the couch beside you.
Close.
Across the room someone groans.
“She don’t listen.”
She glances over at them.
“Y’all niggas done?”
“No,” one of them says. “You’re a bad influence.”
She smirks slightly.
“That’s old news.”
Then she looks back at you again.
Her voice softer now.
“You listening to them?”