MINEFIELDS ? michael b jordan

CHAPTER ONE
IT'S OFFICIAL

Manoucheca stood in front of her bathroom mirror, eyes scanning her reflection as she adjusted the hem of her dress. It was a figure-hugging black satin piece that clung just right, showing off her curves. She tugged at the fabric lightly, trying to smooth out any imperfections, even though she knew it looked perfect.

After all, she'd spent the last few hours agonizing over her outfit, wanting to feel confident for this moment. A small flicker of pride settled in her chest as she admired how the dress fit, the way it caught the light and emphasized her figure.

With a deep breath, she reached for her phone on the counter, propping it up at the perfect angle. She swiped the screen and clicked on Michael's contact. He had been away for days, flying all over for Creed III's press tour. It had been a whirlwind-London, New York, and soon, other cities, leaving her feeling like the distance between them was only growing. But tonight, as she stood alone in their shared apartment, she needed to feel close to him, even if it was just through a screen.

The phone rang a few times before his face appeared on the screen, and she immediately smiled. His smile was a welcome sight, even if it was digital. She adjusted the phone again so he could see the full length of her outfit.

"Damn, baby," Michael's voice came through, his eyes scanning her from head to toe. "Your ass looks so good in that dress."

Manoucheca laughed, feeling a warmth spread through her at the compliment. Michael always knew how to make her feel like the most beautiful woman in the room, no matter where she was.

"I'm just trying to look cute for you," she teased, her fingers running through her hair as she struck a playful pose, her hips swaying slightly.

Michael's eyes darkened with appreciation as he watched her, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips. "You don't need to try, you just are," he said, his voice smooth.

The heat from his gaze was palpable, and she felt a rush of affection for him, a longing that only seemed to grow when they were apart.

She playfully shook her head before bending down, giving him a teasing glance. Without warning, she gave a little wiggle of her hips, shaking her ass for his entertainment. The movement was brief, but she knew it would get a reaction.

And of course, Michael's reaction didn't disappoint. He broke into laughter before starting to sing the lyrics to High Fashion by Roddy Ricch, his voice rich and deep, the playful tone adding to the moment.

Manoucheca couldn't help but laugh, shaking her head at how easy it was for him to make her smile. But as she straightened up and looked at him again through the phone, a sudden wave of emotion washed over her. The playful mood shifted, and she couldn't help but voice what had been on her mind.

"I miss you," she said softly, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line. Michael's smile faded, replaced by a look of tenderness. "I miss you too, baby. I'll be in New York soon, and we'll be together. Just hang in there, alright?"

His voice was comforting, like a balm to the gnawing ache in her chest. She hated the distance, hated the way it seemed to grow every time they had to part. She wanted to be in his arms again, to feel the warmth of his embrace.

"I know," she replied quietly, her voice tinged with a longing she couldn't quite mask. "I just... I don't know. I've been feeling off lately. I'm glad we're talking, though."

They continued their conversation for a few more minutes, talking about everything and nothing at the same time. Work, the press tour, the things that kept them busy when they were apart. But even as she laughed and joked, there was a quiet unease sitting at the back of her mind, one she couldn't ignore. Something didn't feel right, and it wasn't just the distance between them.