Manhattan, New York, 10:45 PM

The sound of Lucky Daye's "Concentrate" rang in my ears, once I stepped out of a taxi that I happened to pay $65 for — New York is so damn expensive. Manhattan was around 35 minutes from New York City. So, I wisely spent my time in the taxi crying and cursing both Julian and Jamaal. Luckily, I kept a few emergency makeup products in my clutch. So, just before I got out of the taxi, I touched up my makeup to cover up my swollen eyes and made myself look presentable.

Right in front of me lay Essence, truly my favorite place in the entirety of New York. Essence was a bar and creamery owned by an Afro-Latino couple; it was actually the first place I'd ever performed at since I had moved to the city.

My entire body relaxed once the tips of my toes reached the tiles of the creamery. My voice vibrated and I hummed to the sweet tunes of the R&B singer performing. If there was one thing that could distract me from everything and anything, it was music.

Good tunes and good vibes — perfect for the occasion.

My brown nails curled themselves tightly around my silver clutch, and I forced myself to take a seat. If I was going to ball my eyes out, I'd do it when I wasn't sober.

After all, if I don't remember it, it didn't happen.

The bartender, Tatianna, approached me with a happy smile. "The usual?" she asked.

"Yes, please." I offered her a half-smile.

She shouted at her husband Malik to give me three scoops of chocolate-chip ice cream with a glass of Baileys — my absolute favorite. I glanced at my phone, waiting for my order.

My notifications were full of missed calls and texts from both Julian and Jamaal, but there were none from my parents. I suppose that Julian must've been too embarrassed to tell them that she'd stolen my boyfriend — now my new-turned ex-boyfriend.

I sighed and silenced my notifications. Two seats to my left, I saw a man — most likely around my age — eating what looked like peanut butter-strawberry ice-cream with a shot of vodka.

"That looks absolutely disgusting," I blurted. I covered my mouth in embarrassment, but he must've not noticed because his eyes stayed focused on whatever he was reading.

Phew . . .

My eyes wandered to the title of what seemed like a script; I couldn't read it exactly from my view, but I could make out the words.

"Eight Dead Kingdoms," the script read.

It must've been some sort of fantasy movie . . . or show? Was he an actor, or possibly the director? I leaned more towards the left side to make out his features, but Tatianna interrupted me with my ice-cream and drink — truly to die for.

She set it on the counter, before eyeing me and then the man sitting two seats from me.

"It looks like you'll be leaving earlier than usual," she whispered.

I stared at her for a moment, before I realized what she meant.

"I'm not a cheater," I said, with hard eyes.

"I didn't say you were." She winked at me, and then approached another one of her customers. If only she knew, I'd been the one to get cheated on.

The rich texture of ice-cream touched my tongue, as I chunked a scoop of ice-cream into my mouth. The bitter pure cocoa in the chocolate contrasted with the sweet, creamy taste of the ice-cream.

"Mhmm . . ." I groaned in pleasure.

I'd been in the same exact spot with Jamaal; he was the one that introduced me to this place — on our fifth date, exactly. Julian had been wary, as usual, since it was the first time I'd ever gone to a bar alone with a man. I was so nervous that I'd almost canceled on Jamaal that night — the same night that he'd officially asked me to be his girlfriend. If I'd known this would've happened, I would've ghosted him.

I sniffled and took another sip of my drink. My foot continuously tapped the floor as "Big Boss," by Victoria Monet, started to play in the background.

Beside me, I noticed that the man seemed to have shifted uncomfortably, and twirled his right hand around his braid. Seeming to notice my stare, he turned his attention towards me.

His eyes met mine and mines met his.

"Don't you know that staring is considered rude," he said.

I tensed in embarrassment and I could feel the tips of my ears redden.

"I wasn't staring," I lied.

He chuckled, clearly amused. "At first I thought it was my imagination, but I think I clearly felt your eyes burning through my back, with what intent, I don't know."

I rolled my eyes and took another mouthful of my ice-cream. "I don't mean to deflate your ego, but I wasn't staring at you, I was staring at your script."

He snorted. "I thought you were staring at my disgusting ice-cream," he said.

"I-"

"Just a moment," he said, interrupting me.

The young man brought out a case from his pocket, and opened it for me to see brown hearing aids, almost identical to his skin tone. He put both hearing aids in his ears and clicked them. Something must have happened afterwards, because he seemed to have relaxed.

"I'm sorry, I just realized that it would be a pity if I were to miss bits and pieces of this conversation."

I scoffed. "I'm not sure if I would consider this much of a conversation, but there's no need for an apology."

"If not a conversation, then what?"

"Mhm . . . A brief misunderstanding," I settled for.

He laughed. "Then, let's turn this brief misunderstanding into a brief conversation."

He rested his head on the palm of his hand.

"Who are you to decide?" I asked.

"You tell me."

I lightly shook my head and then pointed to his script. "What's it about?"

He gave me a playful smile. "Honestly, I can't say because it's confidential."

"Oh? Are you an actor?" I asked, without thinking.

"Maybe. Are you?" He sipped his drink.

"Depends on who's asking."

"Says the woman who asked first."

"Oh, please." I rolled my eyes.

"Right, because you aren't interested in me, but my script."

I laughed. "Correct."

"But on a side note, why the hell would you order strawberry-peanut butter ice cream with vodka? It sounds disgusting."

He looked at me seriously. "Don't yuck my yum."

I raised an eyebrow and laughed. "Don't what?"

"I'm so serious. Don't yuck my yum — just because you don't like it doesn't mean I don't have to."

I put my hands up in a defensive position. "Fair enough. Then, let me ask you another question."

"No," he said.

I shriveled my nose. "What do you mean, no?"

"You asked your question, now it's my turn," he said, shamelessly.

I shook my head in amusement. "You seriously have no shame. My gosh, I didn't know that you were so petty."

"Bold of you to call me names when you don't even know my actual name."

I scooped another spoon of ice-cream into my mouth. "Well, you never gave me a chance to ask."

"Well then, here's your chance," he said with a smile on his lips.

I curved my lips into a smile. "Hurry on and tell me, then. What's your name?"

He thought about it for a moment. "August. What's yours?"

I narrowed my eyes. "Is that your real name?"

"My goodness, can you just take my word for it?" he said, amused.

"Fine, fine, fine. My name's June, short for Juniper."

He fixed his eyes on me. "Wait, like June the R&B singer?" he asked.

I pursed my lips. "Let's change the subject, shall we?"

He nodded. "Then, why did you come to New York?"

I chugged the rest of my drink. "NYU Steinhardt; I moved here from Boston to study music. What about you?"

"I was born and raised here, but I attended Juilliard for acting school," he replied.

"That honestly explains a lot."

He lightly chuckled and finished the rest of his drink.

I put my hands on my hips. "Well then, August, let's make this fun. A shot for every question you don't want to answer."

He narrowed his brown eyes at me. "Hell no. I severely doubt that you can hold your liquor, and you hardly know me, June."

"Well August, I am more than aware of my limit. When I feel myself getting drunk, I'll stop. So, entertain me for a few drinks, oya?" I said, with a Congolese accent.

August bit the bottom of his lips, as if he was thinking of entertaining the thought.

I smiled.

"Tatianna, six vodka shots for my new-found drinking buddy and I!" I shouted.

As if protocol, Tatianna brought six shot glasses and poured vodka into each glass. "Don't drink too much," she whispered to me.

"Take care of the little lady for me," she said to August, before disappearing to serve her other customers.

"Then, I'll ask the first question. What is the script about?" I asked, again.

Now, this made him really laugh. "I told you already that it's confidential. Ask me a different question."

I took a really good look at him, thinking about what to ask. August had these big bushy, nicely-trimmed dark brown eyebrows that laid right above his brown double-monolids. His neck-length natural knotless braids reached past his sharp jawline.

"What's your ethnicity?" I asked.

"Ma's Ethiopian and my dad African-American. How about you?"

"Congolese and South African."

"Favorite Musician?" he asked.

"I don't have a favorite, but I love Tems, Fally Ipupa, Beyonce, Wizkid, and honestly too many to count."

"I do love a good Wizkid, but I think I've been into Kendrick Lamar lately."

"Oooh, I love Kendrick. His new album "Mr. Morale & The Big" is pure perfection. But, I think newfound favorites of mine are Steve Lacy and Frank Ocean."

"Oh please, I've been a fan of Frank Ocean since Channel Orange. I can't believe you're just now getting into him. Aren't you supposed to be musically versatile since you're a singer?" he asked, playfully.

I rolled my eyes. "Well then, Mr. Actor. What are your favorite films?"

He played with one of the two braids that were left out of his half-low half-down hairstyle. I almost reached for his braid to play with it too — almost.

"I don't particularly have a favorite, because I try to diversify the content I consume to increase my versatility as an actor. However, I do love Parasite, The Godfather, Interstellar, and I genuinely cry every single time I watch Me Before You."
"Now that was definitely the alcohol," he said. I snickered.

"And you?"

I squinted my eyebrows. "Mhm . . . Creed III has been a recent favorite of mine. I absolutely loved the movie, as well as the Woman King."

He raised an eyebrow. "Creed III hasn't come out yet in theaters, so were you at the premier?" he asked.

Now, I drank to that. August shook his head.

"Alright, then. I'll assume you went to the premiere then. A shame I didn't see you there, though," he said.

My eyes lit up. "So, you were at the premiere too? Did you get to meet Michael B. Jordan and secure an autograph? I couldn't meet him, because I came too early."

He laughed. "I actually did get to meet him, he's an amazing actor and such a nice guy, truly. I'm not surprised that you're fangirling over him."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, please. He's every girl's crush."

"You and my sister would be great friends then."

"You have a sister?" I asked.

"Yup. She's seventeen and her name is Adailia. How about you?"

I turned my head and rubbed my shoulders. "Unfortunately, I have a half-sister named Juniper, but I'm sure you already know about her since we're part of the same girl group."

August's expression turned more serious. "And . . . that leads to my next question. Why are you here alone?"

My fingers twitched. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, you're all dressed up. Although, you could be very much dressing up for yourself, something tells me that today was supposed to be some sort of special occasion. Were you waiting for someone?"

I sighed and picked up two shots and drank one right after the other. If I answered, I would most likely end up ranting about how my relationship was a bust, but if I didn't answer, things would honestly just get awkward from here on out. So, the perfect solution was to do a little bit of both with a touch of Vodka.

Two glasses of Vodka to top it off was absurd, but my two-year relationship had ended roughly two hours ago, and contrary to my previous idea of getting drunk and crying, I now refused to go home crying in a corner, not when I needed to face my sister tomorrow.

"Not anymore. As of 11:15 pm today, I'm officially single."

He nodded. "I figured."

I looked him straight in the eyes. "So, what now? Are you going to sit here and pity me?"

August shrugged. "It depends. I wouldn't want our friendship to be built off such a bad situation," he said.

I resisted the urge to fidget with my dress. "So, now we're friends?"

"Why not? We've been talking for around an hour."

I nodded in approval. "Well then, friend. Let's dance."