Dashawn & Annabelle Ep. 01

Episode 1- The Party

Dashawn was already three sips into his Don Julio soda when he ducked into the kitchen. Lights low, counter sticky, and the bass from the living room thumping through the floor like it had somewhere to be. The party was in a brownstone Airbnb off-campus--some junior's cousin booked it, word got passed through group chats, and now it was wall-to-wall with bodies too grown to be anybody's RA problem. He posted by the fridge, hoodie half-zipped, fitted low, watching the swirl of red cups and fake laughs pass by the open doorway. This was the quietest spot he could find.

He didn't even wanna come. Crowds always made his chest tighten. Too much noise, too many eyes. But his boys weren't having it tonight.

"Yo," Malik said, sliding in with that grin that always meant trouble. "You really in here hidin'? Nigga, what are you--an RA"

Dashawn smirked but didn't answer. He sipped slow, eyes scanning. Malik was flanked by Trey and Q, all three looking like they was ready to act bad for the 'Gram.

"Deadass," Q chimed in. "We dragged you out that ghost dorm. You finally back outside."

"You been in that shit too long," Trey added. "You need somethin' to take the edge off. Or someone."

Dashawn let the corner of his mouth twitch. "I'm good. I'm just chillin'."

"Nigga, you always chillin'," Malik said. "At some point you gotta live, bro."

He didn't answer. Just leaned on the counter, the cup warm in his hand now. He wasn't tryna get smacked--just nice enough to float. Let the beat ride under his skin, not crash into it.

He looked good, even if he didn't care to flex it. Light caramel skin, always moisturized like he ain't never skipped lotion a day in his life. His dreads were half-tied tonight, the rest falling just past his shoulders, loose enough to look casual but fresh enough to show care. The soft stretch of his hoodie clung to his frame--lean but cut, shoulders broad under the fabric. Built like he ran drills but moved like he avoided attention. His earrings caught the kitchen light--diamond or silver depending on mood.

That's when he saw her.

She was on the other side of the room, backlit by someone's ring light and the fake fog of a vape cloud. Short, thick, moving like she was born to be watched. Big curls bouncing, lips glossy, arms up. She wasn't dancing for nobody--but her body was saying something anyway. Her ass had its own gravity, high and tight in jeans that didn't stand a chance. Every bounce came with its own exclamation point.

Dashawn's eyes locked on her.

And then, like she felt it, she turned.

Their eyes met.

She didn't break rhythm. Just shifted. Slower. More deliberate. That kind of motion that say, Yeah, I know you watching.

Dashawn looked away quick, heart kicking up. Took another sip. But his eyes dragged back, like gravity. She was still locked in.

"Yo," he muttered. "Who's that?"

His boys turned.

"No clue," Trey said. "But you better slide before some other nigga do."

Across the room, Annabelle leaned in to Yari. "¿Tú lo viste? [You saw him?] That caramel tall boy by the fridge?"

Yari smirked. "El tipo? [That dude?] Girl, he look like he got trauma and good dick. Se lo ve en la cara. [You can see it in his face.]"

Juelz laughed, catching enough of the Spanish to keep up. "He is fine. Look like he don't even know it, too."

"He cute," Anna said, eyes still on him. "Look like he got secrets."

She said it with that Bronx-Dominican rhythm--fast, soft-edged, but loaded. Like she'd seen boys like him and still wanted the story.

"Mmm," Yari said. "Go unwrap that mystery, ma."

They started moving at the same time. She stepped off beat, slow and intentional. He pushed off the counter like the music gave him permission. The crowd thickened between them, but they moved with purpose--two magnets in a room full of static.

They met near the hallway arch.

Up close, the noise hit Dashawn harder. Laughter, bass, perfume and weed all mixing too loud. His throat tightened, but her presence pulled focus. She smelled like skin you wanna touch--vanilla, fruity mist, and something warm that clung like a dare. Her skin caught the light like it remembered touch--kissed with just enough baby oil to give her collarbones a soft gleam.

She was even badder up close. Five feet of soft curves and straight attitude. Honey-gold skin catching the low lights like a filter, under a tight crop tee stretched over her strappy bralette--barbell piercings still visible through the fabric if you were looking hard enough. And Dashawn was. Her lashes looked too fake to be real--but they were.

Dashawn slid one hand into his pocket, grounding himself. Her presence was loud, even when she wasn't speaking.

"You good?" she asked, head tilted, voice dipped in Uptown grit with a Dominican edge.

He swallowed. "I was until I saw you."

She laughed low, biting her lip. "That always work on girls?"

He gave her a small shrug. "Only when it's true."

She smirked. "Mm. You one of them niggas who be postin' up in corners like you mysterious?"

Dashawn laughed low. "Nah. Just... not my scene like that."

She tilted her head, studying him. "You don't dance?"

"I do. Just not... here. Like this." He nodded toward the crowd, where bodies were grinding like they ain't have midterms or shame.

Anna watched him. Noticed the way his eyes scanned the room, never landing too long. He looked calm, but he wasn't comfortable. Not all the way.

She leaned in, voice dropping just a little. "What's up with you?"

She wasn't pressing, just peeping. Curious, not clingy. But she could tell he was off--something about how still he stood, like his body was holding too much inside.

Dashawn paused, gave her a half smile like he was used to dodging that question. "I be needin' a minute sometimes. That's all."

She nodded slow, then held out her hand. "Annabelle, pero everybody call me Anna."

He looked at her hand for a second like it meant more than it should, then took it. Warm grip, not too tight. Just enough to let her know he was real. Her nails grazed his palm before he let go.

"Dashawn."

That pause after the handshake? Silent but loud. Her fingers flexed once. His tongue wet his bottom lip without thinking.

"You always this serious, Dashawn?"

He chuckled. "Nah. Just gotta ease into shit.

Anna smiled. "Good. I don't like rushing neither."

They were still standing close. Still watching each other like the music was just background noise.

"You cool. Kinda weird, but I like that," Anna said with a smirk.

She reached for his cup without asking. Took a sip, eyes still on him. Her gloss left a pink sheen on the rim.

"Ohhh, nigga, you off that Don Juliooo?" she grinned, licking gloss from her lip as she sang "Don Don The little Don Don" and broke into a little slizzy dance while twirling his cup above her head.

"Juliooooo" he sang off key with a chuckle, finding some leeway to be normal for once.

Until She handed his cup back to him, and their fingers brushed.

His skin lit up like it caught signal. The warmth of her touch lingered. And when he met her gaze again, his chest wasn't tight--it was thudding. He had to use everything in his power not to short circuit.

Now that she was up close, her eyes dropped a little. Took in the goatee lined sharp, the hazel eyes lit amber under the party lights, the soft curve of his lips. He looked like a secret and a story. Smelled like cocoa butter and cedar--clean, warm, grounding.

Anna didn't step back. She stepped closer.

Her hand brushed his forearm--light, testing. "Come here," she said, soft but sure.

Dashawn didn't resist. He leaned in, slow, letting her pull him just enough that his knees brushed hers. She was so damn small--barely to his chest--but the way she looked up at him? That was pressure.

"Sure?" he asked, voice low, grin trying not to spread, playing it cool.

"You scared?" she smirked.

He laughed. "Not of you." Just like that he recovered.

"Should be."

She turned around--not all the way, just enough to angle her hips toward him--and started moving slow. Not wild. Not showy. Just a gentle grind to the beat, her back brushing his stomach, her ass testing the space between them.

Dashawn's hands hovered before resting lightly on her hips. Respectful. Curious. Still holding back.

"Damn... you smell good as fuck," she murmured. "Like clean and trouble at the same time."

"You sure you good?" she asked again, looking up over her shoulder.

He nodded. "Yeah."

"You feel tense."

"I don't usually... do this. Not like this."

Anna slowed down, hips still rocking. "You overthinking."

"Maybe."

"Then shut up and feel me."

He did.

Everything around them blurred--the bass, the laughter, the clinking cups. Just his chest against her back, her curls brushing his chin, the way her ass rolled in slow circles like she was drawing spells in the air.

Anna leaned back, lips brushing his ear. "Tú te sientes rico..." [You feel good...]

Dashawn blinked. "What's that mean?

She smiled, grinding into him slightly. "You feel good. You want lessons?"

"Yeah," he said low, eyes locked on hers. "I'm tryna learn everything."

She leaned up again, eyes playful but pupils blown. Her tongue ring flicking as she whispered low, sultry, thick with heat:

"Tú no sabes cuánto quiero mamarte la pinga ahora mismo..." [You don't know how bad I wanna suck your dick right now.]

Dashawn's breath caught. He didn't know Spanish like that, but the way she said it--slow, seductive, like a promise--had him pulsing anyway.

"Wait... what that mean?" he asked, voice a little hoarse.

She grinned and backed up a step. "Don't worry about it."

And just like that, she went back to dancing--like she ain't just drop a bomb in his ear and leave it ticking.

The party blurred. The floor shook. But in that moment, all he heard was her voice--and his own heartbeat.

Dashawn leaned down slightly, just enough to feel her breath. "You dangerous," he whispered.

Anna smiled without turning. "You ain't even seen dangerous yet."

Dashawn's hands stayed light on her waist. The music had slowed--Brent or maybe Summer Walker--but neither of them cared. Anna leaned back into him, soft but still running the moment. She tilted her head up, those big curls brushing his jaw.

Anna leaned back into him again, a softer pressure now. Like she could feel something shift.

"You got quiet," she murmured. "What's goin' through that head?"

Dashawn's breath caught. He scanned her eyes--steady, open.

"You feel... safe," he said, almost like it surprised him.

Anna raised a brow, lips parting in a grin. "That a good thing or a red flag?"

He smiled, real slow. "Little bit of both."

She turned in his arms, facing him. Looked up from right beneath his chin, lips glossy, lashes fluttering. Real dangerous.

"I don't know what's goin' on with you, papi," she said, hand on his chest, "but it's cool. You ain't gotta explain nothin'."

Dashawn blinked at that. "Papi?"

Anna grinned. "You earned a lil nickname. Don't get cocky."

He laughed, deep and real.

She leaned up just enough to whisper near his ear. "Your heart beatin' fast... what's that about?"

"Maybe 'cause you pressing me," he murmured.

Anna smirked. "Good. I like you a little nervous."

Before Dashawn could answer, a high-pitched voice cut through the music like glass cracking.

"Bitch! Anna! You over here seducing niggas again?"

Anna groaned under her breath and turned, already knowing who it was. Her roommates, Jules and Yari, coming in hot like a two-woman parade. Cups in hand, edges still laid, but eyes wild with jungle juice and too many shots.

Yari stomped first, hoops swinging. "You ain't see my texts? Bitch, I was about to call NYPD."

Jules pointed at Dashawn, dramatic as hell. "Oooh, this what got you in a trance? Damn, he tall as hell--lemme see the face--oh yeah, he dangerous."

Dashawn raised his eyebrows but didn't move. Just let Anna's body lean on his like she wasn't going nowhere.

Anna rolled her eyes. "Can y'all relax? I'm breathing."

"You breathing on dick," Jules said, sipping hard. "Bitch, you in his chest like you was made there."

Dashawn smirked. "Y'all always like this?"

Anna cut her eyes at him playfully. "Yes. Unfortunately."

Yari leaned in close, ignoring the tension. "So what's his name? He cuter up close."

"Dashawn," he said simply.

"Dashawn!" Jules repeated, dragging it out. "Okay Dashawn, with the soul-searching eyes and the hoochie beard."

"Goodnight," Anna muttered, still laughing.

"We leaving in twenty," Yari said. "You comin'?"

Anna looked up at Dashawn. "I could stay."

Dashawn didn't flinch. "I want you to come with me."

Anna stayed where she was--pressed into his chest, chin tilted up just enough to see his eyes.

"I want you to come with me," Dashawn said again, voice low.

She looked at him, real still. Her body was soft against him, but her stare wasn't.

"Oh word?" she said, lips glossy, voice like a challenge.

He didn't blink. "Yeah."

"You always move this fast?"

"Nah. You just... different."

"Different how?"

Dashawn leaned down a little, just enough for his breath to touch her cheek. "You don't feel like everybody else."

Anna sucked her teeth. "You don't even know me."

"I know what I feel."

She raised an eyebrow, eyes not breaking from his. "Say less, poet nigga."

Dashawn smiled but didn't talk. Just let his hand settle low on her back, steady and warm.

Anna stayed quiet a beat longer. Then reached up, fingers tugging his hoodie string.

"You sure you not scared of me, Dashawn?"

He grinned, full this time. "Little bit."

She licked her lips. "Good. I like when they know."

Anna looked back at her girls.

"I'm rolling with Dashawn."

Jules hooted.

"You really jackin this nigga like that?"

Yari grinned, eyes low and slick.

"She gon' be limping tomorrow, watch."

Jules stepped in closer, pointing her cup at Dashawn.

"Yo Dashawn, you eat pussy or you just look good?"

Dashawn didn't blink.

"Depends how good she taste."

Anna smirked, then looked up at him.

"I guess we both 'bout to find out."

Dashawn walked Anna to the edge of the living room, hand on her lower back, steady like he'd been there before. But before they could slide out smooth, he heard it:

"Ayy yo D! Where you goin', nigga?"

He turned his head, already smirking. His boys--Malik, Trey, and Q--posted up by the fridge, red cups in hand, grins wide like they just won a bet.

Malik leaned in. "Ohhh nah, you really leavin' with shorty? That lil thing had you locked since you walked in."

"D don't never leave early," Trey added, fake shocked. "She got you tappin' out before midnight? Is it love?!"

Dashawn rolled his eyes but kept smiling. "Y'all mad loud."

Q raised his cup. "We just proud, king. We saw her. That's quality. Light work."

"Real slim thick," Malik said, looking at Anna just long enough to nod with respect. "She had the lil Fashion Nova on, right?"

"Shut up," Dashawn laughed. "Y'all sound thirsty."

"Thirsty? You the one leaving with her," Trey shot back. "We dry as hell."

Anna glanced at the boys and smirked, then leaned into Dashawn's arm like yeah, I know I'm pressure.

Q said as he passed, "Don't fumble it, my boy. And if she got cousins--put me on."

Dashawn dapped each of them up, grin never leaving his face.

"She good people. I'ma see y'all."

Anna looked up at him once they hit the hallway.

"They funny"

He shrugged. "They stupid."

"You like that though."

Jaylen smiled. "Yeah. I like real."

Anna didn't say anything. Just walked a little closer, her fingers brushing his.