Some connections don't burn. They ache. Quietly. Constantly.
Onika Maraj has never had to fight for attention. Born into generational wealth, her life is all curated elegance and effortless charm. But at 21, the glimmer is starting to dull. She's bo...
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ONIKA TANYA MARAJ NOBU
The white Mercedes slides to a stop, cold as ice and twice as expensive, and I'm already half out the door before Cassie can yell, "Wait, don't leave me hanging!"
I'm rocking a white blazer that could blind you in direct sunlight, paired with a skirt so short it's practically flirting with scandal. The whole look is matched—white patent leather purse sitting on the passenger seat like the cherry on top of this rich-girl sundae. Every detail screams dangerous—the kind of dangerous that makes people cross the street just to avoid catching your eye.
My Louboutins clicked against Nobu's marble floor like I'm declaring war on subtlety. I don't just walk in, I arrive.
Cassie's trailing behind, all peaches and sass in a pink dress that could soften a heart attack. She laughs, shaking her head. "Girl, you act like you're not about to break the internet in that skirt."
I smirk. "Let the internet try to keep up."
We slide into our booth like it's our damn throne. I lean back and scan the room, already bored of the usual soft money and easier smiles.
And then she walks in.
Not with a bang, or a flash, or even a breeze. She just is—like gravity shifting under your feet, and suddenly the whole damn place tilts her way.
Black dress. Striped, tight, impossible not to stare at. She moves like she owns the space without saying a word. Like she's been here before, and will be long after we're done acting like we matter.
"Who's that?" Cassie whispers, catching my stare like it's a crime scene.
I chuckle. "Girl, I don't know her name. But I already know I'm gonna remember her."
Cassie smirks. "You're not subtle."
I grin wide, unapologetic. "Subtle is for dick suckers, no offense though."
|||||||
Cassie orders some kale smoothie bullshit like she's trying to cleanse sins I didn't even commit. I'm on rosé because honestly, who wants to pretend they're sober at noon? Not me.
I'm half-listening, half-eye-fucking the mystery woman across the room. The one who looks like she walks through fire and doesn't even get her shoes dirty.
Cassie leans in, all angelic pink and sweet smiles. "You know you're staring like you're about to start a cult, right?"
I grin. "If starting a cult means worshipping that dress, I'm already in."
Cassie snorts. "Girl, you've got that 'I don't give a damn' vibe on steroids today."
"Because I don't," I say, swirling my rosé like it's my entire mood. "Jealous? No. Curious? Hell yes. That woman's got some kind of 'don't fuck with me' energy, and I'm here for the challenge."
