Listen— Peer pressure's a bitch.
Even when no one's actually pressuring you.
My girls never forced me into anything. I wanna make that clear. They didn't dare me, didn't push me, didn't shove drinks into my hands or tell me I had to prove something.
But there's this thing that happens when you finally belong somewhere. When you've spent most of your life on the outside, looking in.
You start paying attention to how everyone moves. How they talk. What they do. What they don't hesitate over.
And some part of me — probably the paranoid part, probably the traumatized part — decided I needed to move exactly like them if I wanted to stay.
My friends were misguided, sure. We all were. But they weren't cruel. They weren't reckless with me.
A lot of what happened later? That wasn't them pushing me.
That was me deciding things on my own.
For worse or better.
And we've already seen the worst of it. So let's just peek into the moment where it got just a little better.
At the rink, I squinted under the bright flashing lights, walking in and bumping into random bodies, feeling hot and cold at the same time. I decided to perch up in the corner. Mercedes was dancing with Daryl, and Gabby had found some lanky guy to chat with. So it was just me—until Raven showed—and who knew when that would be?
I felt left out.
Anxious.
Alone.
Out of my element—you get me.
My girls were my armor and my shield, and the fact that they separated from me made me feel vulnerable.
I watched my surroundings—girls grinding up against boys, people skating along the outskirts of the rink, others eating food.
The hair on the back of my neck stood up.
Something nagged at me to turn around, and when I did, I saw a tall boy with a low cut and tan skin—handsome, boyishly so, and he was smiling right at me. I gave a half-hearted wave back.
Then he beckoned me over, and I felt like I couldn't breathe.
He was obviously older than me. It didn't look like it was by a lot, but it was still daunting. I looked for Mercedes, then Gabby, hoping they'd see me as I walked up to this guy—so they could see that I was on the same wavelength as them.
When I noticed they weren't watching, I looked away, pretended to go get something to drink, and bumped into Gabby to see how she was enjoying herself. I knew that guy would keep looking at me—or at least I hoped he would—so there'd be an audience when I accepted his request.
"Gabby, you having fun?" I brushed against her with a playful smile, distracting her from the guy she was with.
She seemed surprised but looked over at me with a grin. "Yes! This party is off the hook. Babes, I love it. Mercedes really showed out."
I chuckled, subtly looking over my shoulder to be sure he was watching me—but he wasn't. I needed him to see me while I was with one of them. So I grabbed Gabby's hand, letting out a dramatic squeal as I pulled her closer to the rink, into his line of sight.
"Yes!" I yelled, waving my hands up to the music. "This is my kind of party."
I prayed—desperately—that he would hear me.
That he would see me.
That he would call me over so I could accept and impress my friends.
And it looks like God heard me that night.
Gabby looked behind me curiously. "Um, girl… there's a 6'2", sexy guy eyeing the fuck out of you."
I played with the tail of my braid nonchalantly. "What? What are you talking about?"
Gabby grabbed my shoulders and slowly turned me around with a smirk—right toward the guy who had beckoned me over earlier. Now I had an audience. My girl gave me a small push on my back, and that gave me confidence. As long as she was watching, I could do this.
And I did.
I slowly approached him giving him a coy wave—I could still feel Gabby staring at me so i had to put on the show.
This guy's name was Terrance. Terrance Jackson. Nineteen, but also Mercedes's cousin.
Didn't know that at the time, but it was made clear to me within an hour span.
I settled in beside him and when he opened his mouth. His voice was smooth, deep too. Deep enough to get your attention but also didn't make you feel threatened.
"Hey, I never see you before. I'm Terrance, but everyone calls Me TJ. What about you?"
took a deep inhale, glancing to the side to make sure Gabby was still watching, then playfully rolled my eyes.
"What you wanna know my name for?"
He chuckled, eyeing me up and down as he rubbed his hands together.
"Ohhh, that's how it is?"
I gave him a pointed look and a smile. "Maybe."
He had a perfect smile—teeth gleaming under the flashing red, blue, and green lights, mimicking the LEDs around the rink.
"I like you," he said.
My heart skipped at that.
I had my issues, sure—but I'd never really heard a guy say he liked me. Not like that. I looked off to the side, feeling my face heat up.
He liked me.
I told myself not to think too deep about it. He wants something. You're in control here. Don't let him hook you—you're supposed to hook him. You're supposed to set the example for your girls.
But every time he smiled at me, asked me about myself, I fell deeper and deeper into obsession with him—and it hadn't even been thirty minutes.
"So, Rhea… how old are you?" he asked. "I'm nineteen."
It just slipped out. I couldn't tell the truth. That I was fourteen.
"I'm sixteen," I said. "As of two months ago."
I looked off, trying to keep my face blank. Putting on a mature poker face instead of a naïve kid caught in a lie.
He scoffed playfully. "Word? You just a baby. Shouldn't you be home sleeping?"
He looked me up and down. "Instead of being out here with the big dogs."
I pushed his chest playfully as he leaned in, but all I could think was: if he thinks sixteen is a baby, he'd have a heart attack if he knew the truth.
But I also knew the truth wasn't going to come from me. I was on a mission.
"If you think I'm a baby," I said, letting my fingers drum across his chest as I met his eyes, "then maybe you need to move on to someone who's more… your speed."
He grabbed my wrist and leaned down, looking straight into my eyes.
"Ain't nothing wrong with a baby. You can call me a caretaker."
We both laughed. He lowered my hand, rubbing it, and I rubbed the back of his—never breaking eye contact.
"You wanna dance?"
I looked over just in time to see Mercedes stepping up to Gabby, and Gabby pointing at me. So I lifted my chin in confidence, gave him a little glance, and said, "Sure."
We barely made it onto the dance floor before the music really pulled us in when Mercedes came out of nowhere, spreading us apart with her hand and stepping between us. I looked at her, confused—this was the first time I'd ever seen her serious.
She turned to him, poking his chest scoldingly as she scowled.
"No. This one is off-limits, TJ. This is my girl."
He looked between Mercedes and me a few times before putting his hands up placatingly and taking a few steps back.
"My bad," he chuckled. "I didn't know."
Mercedes put her hands on her hips and rolled her neck.
"Well, now you do. Come on, Rhea."
She grabbed my arm and pulled me away, dragging me to the other side of the rink. And I couldn't help it—I glanced back. He was still looking at me, that smooth smile on his face, those intense brown eyes he'd had when we were talking earlier.
My heart raced. My body heated up all over again.
"Hey," Mercedes said, lowering her voice. "Don't get involved with TJ. He a fuckboy. That's my cousin—trust me, I know."
She waved her hands in front of us.
"If you wanna talk to someone, there's a lot of good-looking fish in the sea."
She scowled, frustrated.
"But him? He ain't one of them."
I told you—this man became my next obsession. So even as Mercedes was telling me all of this, I blocked it out. Because he said he liked me, and at the time, I knew I liked him.
"Hey—you listening?" Mercedes said.
I nodded quickly, turning to face her. "Yeah. I didn't know. Thank you for looking out."
She smiled. "No problem. Come on—let's dance. No men. Just us."
She winked and pulled me toward the dance floor.
We got lost in the music, and somewhere along the way I felt arms slip over my shoulders. It was Gabby. Then Raven. We linked up again—arms over shoulders, swaying in a loose circle to the beat.
We must've looked lame as hell that night.
But it didn't matter.
Because when we were together like that, it felt like that was all there was.
Everything else—irrelevant.
Until it wasn't.
That night was the last time irrelevance was unanimous. Because the crudely balled-up piece of paper forced into my hand at the end of the night—by a tall, familiar gentleman—turned me into the outlier.