Bodyguard (YN x Beyonce)

Part Nineteen

The lights from the carpet flashed like lightning—quick, bright, and everywhere. Gabby stood beside me, her hand gently grazing my lower back as we posed together. Cameras ate it up. She looked good. Too good. Hair slicked, curves hugged by that deep burgundy dress. And I wasn't half-steppin' either. My suit was clean, fresh off a custom fit, black on black with the subtle shimmer in the light.

We smiled, laughed, posed. The energy was light, easy. Gabby knew how to command a room without trying too hard. And when she looked at me, she did it like we were the only two in the crowd. It was dangerous... comforting... everything I didn't know I needed after the last 48 hours.

Inside, the event was luxe. Gold lighting, velvet ropes, champagne in delicate flutes. R&B playing low in the background while music execs, artists, and press moved through the room like it was their playground. Gabby pulled me through it like I belonged. She introduced me to a few folks, kept her hand around my waist when she could. I let her. Not because I was trying to send a message—but because it felt good to let go for a minute.

We found a quiet spot near the back, some tucked-away lounge seating. Gabby leaned in close, telling me something funny about a producer in the room, and I actually laughed—really laughed—for the first time all day.

But then... I felt it.

That vibration in my pocket.

I pulled out my phone, and my heart sank.

Missed FaceTime calls

Missed calls

Unread texts

My thumb hovered over her name.

Gabby noticed. "You good?"

I nodded slowly, sliding my phone back into my jacket. "Yeah... yeah, I'm good."

But I wasn't. I wasn't even close. I still saw that picture in my head. Jay's face too damn close to hers. His hand around her waist. I knew she swore nothing happened, but something in me still burned. Not just jealousy—but the ache of loving someone you can't fully trust in the moment.

Gabby reached for my hand. "You sure you wanna stay?"

I looked at her. "No. But I need to."

And right now, I needed to breathe. Needed to forget, even if just for a little while.

We stayed at the party at least until 1 am. Gabby's hotel room was warm and low-lit, her candles flickering on the table near the minibar like she had been planning to end the night there all along. We kicked off our shoes at the door—mine clunking against the wall, hers neatly set to the side. She had music playing low on the speaker—some smooth H.E.R. unreleased track she hummed to without thinking.

We were laughing, still tipsy from too much champagne and too little food, sprawled across the plush couch with takeout fries between us.

We both cracked up, the kind of deep laugh that makes your stomach hurt and your chest feel full. But just as quick as it came, it faded for me. That heavy feeling came creeping in again like a tide I couldn't stop. I stared at the floor, chewing my bottom lip.

Gabby noticed the shift. "Hey... what just happened?"

I looked up at her, trying to smile through it. "Nothing. I'm good."

She tilted her head. "No, you're not. Talk to me, YN."

I hesitated for a long second before I sighed and said, "My girl... she's spending time with her ex. Because they have a kid together. And I get it, I really do, but..."