What is it about friend groups? Why does the group seem to hate when someone within the inner circle starts to have emotions toward someone outside the circle? I’m not doing anything wrong by being with Nas, but this is the second time one of my friends has told me about diving too deep too fast, which leads me to believe that they’ve been talking about me behind my back. They’re doubting Nas, and can’t just let me do my thing without wishing it would end and hiding it beneath their concern for my poor little heart. While I am concerned about how Nas and I define what we’re doing, it’s for me to worry about. All I ask of my friends is that they support me, and cheer for me when I’m winning. If I end up losing—which I doubt will happen due to the strength of my connection with Nas—then I want them to be my shoulder to cry on. It’s all really simple, and right now I’m in the winning phase of life, so I just want my inner circle to be my loud and enthusiastic cheering section.

“Hey,” DeShaun says, forcing me to stop staring off into space and look at him. “You know we’ve got your back, right?”

I nod with raised eyebrows.

“Don't look like that,” DeShaun snips with a raised finger, making me giggle. “I think Nas being a celebrity has us worried, that’s all. But, we trust you, and we know you’ll look out for yourself. Don’t let anybody—not even one of us—stand in your way. We just love you, boo.”

I make a fake sad face and pull DeShaun into a hug just as my phone rings in my clutch. After we end our embrace, I let my camera dangle from the strap around my neck while I look at the screen.

“I can tell from the Cheshire Cat smile on your face that it’s him,” DeShaun quips. “Go ahead and answer it. Just promise you won't have phone sex in the middle of our work date.”

“No promises,” I reply with a silly smile as I put the phone to my ear. “Hi, Nas.”

“Hey, Baby Girl.” Nas's voice pierces through the phone, giving me instant goosebumps, but it’s the words he says next that make my eyes bulge. “I’m just getting myself settled. Nice dress.”

I freeze with eyes as wide as the trays being carried by the waiters as I frantically look around the room.

“What? How do you know I’m wearing a nice dress?” I ask, still searching but finding nothing. DeShaun overhears me and frowns as he looks around, too.

“How do you think?” Nas says. “Now, I know you're here for work, but I need you to follow my instructions. Do you understand?”