Chapter 1
YANDISWA
November 15th, the day finally arrives, and I step out of the exam room, feeling freedom wash over me like a gentle ocean wave. I spot my two best friends, Anita Ngubeni and Naledi Maqoma, already deep in conversation about the epic party planned for our house.
We live in Naledi’s grand home in La Lucia, a beautiful inheritance from her late father. She’s the richest in our squad and is absolutely determined to throw me the most unforgettable party Durban has ever seen—or so she claims with her usual flair.
Now, don’t get me wrong; I’m no angel. I enjoy partying, drinking, and smoking weed, but I’ve also got a brain to match. Anita, on the other hand, is our group’s angel—doesn’t touch alcohol or cigarettes, yet somehow we convince her to come to parties with us after a lot of pleading. Then there’s Ledi, our wild child. If there’s something she hasn’t tried, it’s probably not worth doing. She’s had one-night stands, blessers, drinks, and smokes anything she can get her hands on. My mom isn’t her biggest fan, but she tolerates Ledi because she knows how much I adore her. We’ve been friends since we were five.
We met Anita when we were ten. She had just moved into our neighborhood and looked so lost without friends. Ledi and I decided to befriend her, and we’ve been inseparable since then—three musketeers against the world.
I’m not rich, nor am I poor. My mom works tirelessly as a doctor to provide me with a decent life. We share a typical mother-daughter relationship, full of love and the occasional squabble. My friends and I are students at DUT city campus. I’m immersed in photography and arts, while Ledi is chasing her dreams as an actress. Anita, the best dancer I’ve ever seen, is majoring in dance. She and Ledi sometimes share classes, which always leads to hilarious stories.
After the exam, we make our way to Ledi’s car, giggling like schoolgirls as we head to Gateway to stock up on booze. We plan to meet Anita’s boyfriend, Bonke, in the underground parking lot. As we arrive, Bonke and Anita share a tender moment, their eyes locking in a way that makes me smile. After their brief romantic interlude, Bonke greets us warmly, his charm adding to the excitement of the night ahead. We discuss the plans of the night ahead.
I sigh, exasperated. “What am I going to do with you?!”
She just smiles wider. The last time I take ecstasy, I end up in the hospital for three whole days, and I swear never to touch it again. Of course, my mom finds out and isn’t happy about it, but we get over it, thank goodness.
Bonke chuckles. “You are one naughty girl, Naledi.”
“So I’ve been told,” she says, her voice dripping with mock innocence.
Anita, looking a bit uncomfortable, interjects, “Can we just get what we came here for, guys? I’ve got major cramps.”
I raise an eyebrow at her. “Does that mean you’ll be sleeping in tonight?”
Bonke’s eyes widen in mock horror. “No, babe, you can’t.”
Ledi shakes her head. “She wouldn’t dare do us like that.”
Anita rolls her eyes. “Relax, would you? All I need is a quick nap, and then I’m good.”
Bonke leans in and kisses the side of her head. “That’s my girl.”
We walk inside, Bonke and Anita trailing behind, lost in their own little world. Ledi and I strut hand in hand, looking like the hottest lesbian couple in town. Ledi is an absolute vision. Her beautiful yellow-bone complexion glows with a radiant warmth that draws everyone’s attention. She sports an expensive weave that cascades down her back in luxurious waves, perfectly complementing her big, round derrière and skinny waist. Her impeccable fashion sense is the envy of many. Today, she wears blue jean bum shorts that accentuate her curves, paired with a long ripped denim jacket, a crisp white vest, and white Superstars. Every detail of her outfit is meticulously chosen, highlighting her flawless style.
Then there’s me, a size 30 with the kind of curves that could make anyone do a double-take. My friends love to say I have an hourglass figure, and while I often brush off the compliments, I can’t deny there’s some truth to their words. My warm caramel skin has a natural glow, and though I sometimes indulge in wearing weaves, my long, natural hair is my crowning glory. Today, like Ledi, I sport blue jean bum shorts, a ripped denim jacket, and a white vest, finished off with white Superstars. Together, we are a formidable pair, turning heads wherever we go.
Anita, our dark-skinned beauty, is nothing short of breathtaking. Her skin is a flawless deep brown, exuding an ethereal glow. Her curves seem endless, and her legs go on for days, making her the epitome of grace and sensuality. Despite her stunning features, Anita prefers modesty. She wears black jeans that hug her curves just right, a white vest, and a denim jacket, paired with white Superstars. Unlike Ledi and me, she avoids short clothing, much to our playful frustration.
Together, we are a striking trio, each with our unique beauty and style, yet perfectly complementary to one another. Our outfits today mirror our bond—twinning yet distinctly individual, ready to take on the world, or at least the night, in our effortlessly chic ensemble.
We buy enough alcohol to last a year and a mountain of meat, then drive home, anticipation bubbling in the air. A few minutes later, Bonke’s friends arrive, and Anita goes upstairs for her nap while we prepare for the party. It’s going to be a night of booze, meat, and, inevitably, drugs. Ledi busies herself locking up the unused rooms, and we retreat to my room to get dressed. By the time we’re done, it’s past six, and people have already started arriving.
Ledi twirls in front of the mirror, her confidence radiating. “We look hot!”
I laugh. “Don’t we always?!”
“Let’s take pictures,” she suggests.
“I thought you’d never ask.”
We pose by the mirror, snapping endless photos, taking turns capturing each other and taking dozens of selfies. Ledi is a masterpiece—high cheekbones framing her almond-shaped eyes, full lips always on the brink of a smile, and a jawline that’s both delicate and strong.
Her outfit for the night is stunning. She wears an off-white oversized shirt tucked neatly into light blue jean shorts, emphasizing her slim waist and curvaceous hips. The shorts are just the right length to showcase her long, toned legs. Adding a pop of boldness, she dons a red blazer that hangs slightly lower than her bum shorts. White and red Alexander McQueen sneakers add a sporty edge, and Y2K-inspired off-red sunglasses complete her look with a retro vibe.
Every element of Ledi’s outfit highlights her flawless features and enviable figure. She is a walking testament to style and grace, effortlessly blending high fashion with casual chic.
I opt for a tight, short black mini skirt that hugs my curves in all the right places, accentuating my caramel-toned skin. To complement the skirt, I choose a loose-fitting long sleeve neon pink shirt tucked neatly into the waistband. The vibrant pink contrasts beautifully against my warm skin tone, adding a playful pop of color. For shoes, I pick out cute neon pink strappy heels that draw attention to my legs and add a touch of elegance.
My hair is styled in a loose bun, with my edges laid perfectly and a few loose curly strands framing my face. I add big gold hoops and a delicate gold chain, completing the ensemble with a touch of sophistication.
As we walk out, we bump into Anita, looking stunning in a cute short white dress that sits just above her knees—a daring choice for her. Her hair is tied up neatly, and she wears navy wedges.
“Well, somebody is definitely getting laid tonight!” I tease.
Ledi chimes in, “Yeah, she is. You look hot! I’m glad you finally saw the light.”
Anita shoots us a playful glare. “Screw you guys!”
I gasp dramatically. “She swears too? Who are you, and what have you done to our friend?”
She laughs, shaking her head. “You guys are so annoying!”
“But you still love us,” I say with a wink. “How are the cramps?”
“Better, actually. The pills worked.”
Ledi smirks. “Told you they would. Come, let’s take pictures.”
Anita groans. “Really, guys?”
I pout, playing the birthday card. “It’s my birthday.”
Anita rolls her eyes affectionately. “It’s tomorrow, dummy.”
“Still, it’s my party.”
“Fine,” she sighs. “Let’s take them then.”
We head to my room and immediately start taking more pictures, feeling like absolute queens. Our phones click non-stop, capturing every pose and angle. We’re slaying on another level, and we know it. Once we’re satisfied with our mini photoshoot, I hand the key to Anita, knowing she’s the only one who won’t get sloshed by the end of the night.
Heading downstairs, Nita goes straight to her boyfriend, while my twinnie and I make a beeline for the booze. The music pumps, the bass thumping through the floor, and everyone is dancing and having the time of their lives. Every step I take, someone wishes me a happy birthday or compliments me on the party. Most of the guests are familiar faces from school, but there are a few randoms I don’t recognize.
I grab a bottle of Ice Tropez and make my way to the pool area, leaving Ledi to mingle with some guy she’s found interesting. I, of course, head straight for the stoners. My classmates, who I often smoke with, are all chilling together. Among them is a girl I’ve only ever seen on campus. She’s absolutely stunning and is sitting with two guys who are in their third year.
“Of all these people, you choose me,” Sihle says as I settle onto his lap.
“You know I love you the most,” I tease, planting a kiss on his cheek. Sihle is deep in the friend zone, a place he’ll never escape. Despite his good looks and attempts, we’ve been tight since the beginning of the year, strictly as friends.
“You two should just date already,” Athi rolls his eyes.
“They’re not an item?” the stunning girl asks, surprised.
“Nope. He’s deep in the friend zone,” Siya confirms with a grin.
I turn to the girl. “I’m sorry, we haven’t met.”
“Asemahle Bess,” she introduces herself.
My eyes widen. “As in Amahle and Damon Bess’s daughter?”
“Yes,” she replies with a nod.
“Nice. I’m Yandiswa Gxaba.”
“I know,” she says, smiling.
Siya feigns outrage. “How come you never said that to me when we met?”
“Because your parents may be the ish, but Asemahle’s run this world, dude,” I shoot back, grinning.
Tom laughs. “Man, she got you!”
“You clearly don’t know who I am,” Siya retorts.
“You are Siyabonga Nkohla, son of Siyanda and Zukisa Nkohla. Nephew of Sibusiso Ndaba and Sage Ndaba. Come on, dude, don’t trip,” I tease.
Asemahle looks curious. “How do you guys know each other?”
“He was the first guy who ever macked on me at DUT,” I explain.
“You macked on her?” Tom asks, eyebrows raised.
“Lies!” Siya protests.
Athi laughs. “It’s true. He just couldn’t help himself.”
Asemahle shakes her head. “Your mom would be so disappointed. So, you two never did anything?”
“I got into her pants,” Siya claims with a smirk.
“He means he’s still trying to,” I clarify, rolling my eyes.
“What’s the deal?” Asemahle asks, intrigued.
Sihle jumps in. “Well, my friend over here has a rule. She doesn’t do guys from her campus because it will cause awkward vibes.”
Asemahle nods in agreement. “Why are you like my twin? He has the same rule.”
“Your twin’s rules are screwed up, though! Where will he meet girls if not on campus?” Siya argues.
“Clubs and other functions outside Howard,” she replies coolly.
“He and Yandi need to meet,” Tom suggests with a chuckle.
Tom, Sihle, and I are in the same class, while Athi and Siya are our seniors in the same course. Being stoners has bonded us into a tight-knit group. We all met this year, but it feels like we’ve known each other forever. Tom sat in front of Sihle and me in class and took a liking to us and our art. Sihle and I met on the first day of school during break time. He was sitting alone, and I, feeling a pang of pity, went over to talk to him. We’ve been friends ever since. I met Athi and Siya on that same first day, waiting by the gate for my girls.
“That boy will die young. Surely Mama Bess is not happy with his lifestyle,” Athi muses.
“Okay, okay, enough about your brother. I’m the birthday girl here; you should be talking about me!” I exclaim, feigning indignation.
They all laugh. Honestly, I’m just sick of hearing about this Bess brother I know nothing about. It’s not that I don’t know of him, but there’s literally nothing about him on social media, and I’ve never seen his pictures. The Besses are in the spotlight, but their kids aren’t. I had Asemahle on Facebook, but I didn’t realize she was Damon’s daughter. Meeting her up close is a shock. I mean, Miss Bess is at my party!
“That’s the Yandi I know. Attention seeker for days,” Sihle teases.
I smile and grab his hand. “Come on, let’s go dance. I’m high now.”
“Since when are you a lightweight?” Athi asks, raising an eyebrow.
“Since I’m drinking and I’m on my third bottle already,” I reply, pulling Sihle.
“Nah, go without me, mate,” he declines, shaking his head.
“I’ll go with you,” Asemahle offers.
“You get more awesome by the minute,” I say, grinning at her.
We make our way to the dance floor and start dancing. Asemahle is surprisingly good, and we quickly become the center of attention. People can’t take their eyes off us. I have a feeling she and I will be great friends if this is how she is outside campus.
When we get tired, we head to the bar for some shots. It’s my 18th birthday, after all, so I’m officially allowed.
“Melody, I think that’s enough,” a voice says.
I turn to see who’s speaking, and good God, he’s flames.
Melokuhle exudes effortless charm, a mix of humility and arrogance. His jet-black hair falls in perfectly tousled waves, framing his chiselled features. The leather jacket draped casually over his broad shoulders exudes rugged masculinity, softened by the white t-shirt hugging his torso and the sleek black joggers clinging to his legs. He wears pristine white Air Force sneakers, their clean lines a stark contrast to the chaos around him. His shades reflect the admiration that follows him.
In the midst of the pulsating party, Melokuhle stands behind his sister, a protective presence. Despite the loud music and swirling crowd, he commands attention, drawing gazes from all directions.
“Derrick, I’m old enough,” Asemahle asserts, her voice tinged with defiance.
“Then stop behaving like you’re not. This massive drinking needs to stop,” Derrick retorts, firm but concerned.
“I’m sorry, my brother is this rude. Yandiswa, meet Derrick Bess,” Asemahle interjects, trying to diffuse the tension.
“Hi,” I murmur, feeling uncomfortable as Derrick’s gaze bores into his clearly tipsy sister.
“Let’s go home,” Derrick insists, his patience wearing thin.
“We didn’t come here together, Melo,” Asemahle protests, her words slurred.
“Either you get up at freewill or I pick you up and put you on my shoulder and walk out with you,” Derrick threatens, frustration bubbling.
“Can I say something?” I interject, hoping to ease the tension.
Derrick’s eyes bore into me from behind his shades, a silent warning lurking.
“Talk,” he commands, his voice cold.
“I can take your sister up into my room until she sobers up,” I offer, trying to diffuse the situation.
“Yes, Yandiswa will look after me,” Asemahle chimes in, slurred but determined.
“She’s as drunk as you,” Derrick points out, his gaze flickering between us.
“Yes, but this is their place so I’m safe. Right, Yandi?” Asemahle pleads, turning to me for support.
I nod, feeling Derrick’s gaze linger on me for a moment longer before he relents.
“If anything happens to her, I won’t hesitate,” Derrick warns, sending a shiver down my spine.
I nod, suddenly feeling sober. “Let’s go chill outside; it’s hot in here,” I suggest, eager to escape the tense atmosphere.
“Sorry about my brother. He can be an ass sometimes,” Asemahle apologizes with a sigh.
“It’s no big deal,” I reassure her with a forced smile.
“Don’t let him intimidate you. He’s a softie,” Asemahle insists, but I don’t buy it.
“Sure he is. Let’s just go,” I reply, eager to distance myself from Derrick’s intimidating presence.
We rejoin our friends, and laughter fills the air, easing the tension from moments before.
“Buddy, organize us some meat,” Sihle calls out, breaking the ice.
“There’s the braai over there, mate,” I point towards the barbecue, where delicious smells waft through the air.
“Guess who just met the Mighty Derrick Bess,” Asemahle exclaims excitedly.
“No way? You?” Athi’s eyes widen in disbelief as he turns to me for confirmation.
“And?” Siya prompts eagerly.
“He’s terrifying!” I confess, still uneasy from Derrick’s presence.
“That’s ’cause you’re drunk and high,” Siya teases, making everyone laugh.
“I think I’m sober now,” I insist, trying to regain control.
The group cracks up, their camaraderie a welcome relief.
After chatting for a while, I excuse myself to fetch the meat my friends requested. Returning with two heaping plates, I distribute them among the group, enjoying the simple pleasure of good food and company.
As the night wears on, I find myself drawn to my best friend Ledi, who is making the most of the party in her unique way, leaving me to wonder what other surprises the evening holds.
