Chapter 1
EPISODE 1 - Who You Calling Shorty?
The bass was vibrating through the floorboards, shaking the cheap apartment walls. Aaliyah was posted up by the kitchen counter, a red cup in her hand, her locs pulled back into a messy ponytail. She was wearing an oversized graphic tee that hung off her shoulder, baggy cargos, and Timbs that had seen better days.
She looked like she'd rather be anywhere else.
"This party trash," she muttered, taking a sip of her drink.
"Girl, stop complaining and enjoy yourself." Zoey bumped her shoulder. "You been standing in the corner all night like you got a stick up your ass."
"I ain't got nothing up my ass. I just don't see nothing worth my time."
"Look around! There's fine niggas everywhere."
"Where?" Aaliyah scanned the room, unimpressed. "All I see is a bunch of dudes who can't dress and girls who can't keep their weaves straight."
Zoey laughed. "You too picky."
"I ain't picky. I just got standards."
The front door opened, and a wave of energy swept through the room. Aaliyah glanced over, and her eyes landed on a group of dudes walking in like they owned the place.
At the center was Amir.
He was tall—like, really tall. Built like he'd been carved out of granite, broad shoulders, arms that looked like they could lift a car. He was wearing a chain that caught the light, a fitted that sat low on his head, and a smirk that screamed "I know I'm him."
His eyes swept the room, taking inventory. And then they landed on her.
And stopped.
Aaliyah felt his gaze like a physical weight. It was intense, predatory, like he was sizing her up. Like he was already deciding what he wanted.
She held his gaze for a second, then rolled her eyes so hard she nearly gave herself a headache.
"Who the fuck is that?" she muttered.
"That's Amir Carter." Zoey's voice was breathy. "He's the new transfer. Plays ball. Got a whole rep."
"What kind of rep?"
"The kind that got girls throwing themselves at him and dudes wanting to be him." Zoey nudged her. "He's looking at you."
"He can look all he wants. Ain't nothing happening."
"Girl, you trippin'. He fine as hell."
"And? Fine don't pay my bills."
Aaliyah turned back to her drink, dismissing him. But she could still feel his eyes on her, boring into the back of her head.
She ignored it. She was good at ignoring things.
Amir didn't move for a long moment.
He stood in the doorway, his eyes locked on the girl in the corner. She was different from the rest—no tight dress, no caked-on makeup, no desperate need for attention. She was in baggy clothes, Timbs, and a scowl that could curdle milk.
And she was the most beautiful thing he'd seen all night.
"Yo, who is that?" he asked, nudging Devon.
"Who?"
"The one in the corner. Locs. Looking like she wanna fight somebody."
Devon squinted. "Oh, that's Aaliyah. She's cool people. But she don't play that—"
"She's mine."
Devon choked. "Bro, what?"
"I said she's mine." Amir's voice was calm, certain. "I'm gonna go get her."
"Nigga, she gonna whoop your ass."
"We'll see."
Amir started walking, cutting through the crowd like a shark through water. He didn't rush. He didn't hesitate. He just moved with a confidence that parted the room.
When he reached her, he stopped right in front of her, close enough that she had to look up.
"You been avoiding me and I don't like that."
Aaliyah blinked. "What?"
"You heard me." His voice was low, smooth, dangerous. "I been standing at that door for a full minute, and you ain't looked at me once. That's disrespectful."
"Nigga, I don't even know you." She crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing. "Why the hell would I be looking at you?"
"Because I'm looking at you." He smirked. "And I don't like sharing attention."
"Then don't look at me. Problem solved."
He laughed—a low, rumbling sound that sent an unwelcome shiver down her spine. "You got a smart mouth."
"I got a lot more than that. You wanna find out?"
"Maybe I do."
The tension between them was thick enough to cut. Her girls were watching with wide eyes. His boys were hollering in the background.
"You got a lot of nerve," she said, her voice flat.
"I got a lot of everything." He stepped closer, invading her space. "And I'm gonna be real with you—I don't take no for an answer."
"Then you about to be real disappointed." She held up her hand, showing him the ring on her finger. "I got a man. Mind your business."
Amir glanced at the ring, then back at her face. His smirk didn't falter.
He ain't here. I am.
That don't mean nothing."
"It means everything." He leaned in, his lips brushing her ear. "When I want something, I get it. And right now, I want you."
She shoved him back, her hands flat against his chest. Get the fuck out my face."
He stumbled back a step, but he was laughing. "I like you. You got fight."
And I don't like you. Stay out my way."
She turned and walked away, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel his eyes on her the whole way, burning into her back.
She didn't know why, but she had a feeling this wasn't over.
