“Let me think about it.”
I glanced at her as we walked toward the car. She was still talkin’ about dividends or somethin’, but I wasn’t listenin’. Not really. I was focused on how the sun was hittin’ her cheeks, how her puff moved when she laughed. How I lowkey wanted to reach over and touch her lips.
Focus, fool,I thought to myself as I opened up her door and then climbed in on the driver’s side.
“Where to now?” she asked, slidin’ into the passenger seat
I smirked, my hand on the wheel. “I owe you some food.”
“You owe me a whole dinner, dessert, and an apology smoothie for makin’ me do math on my day off.”
“I got you on the first two.”
She rolled her eyes, but she smiled.
After that, she suggested we go to a café spot with damn cats and play board games. I wanted to bounce, but I played it off. In my head, though? I was goin’ off. Like, why the hell was I sittin’ in a board game café calledCheckmate & Cheese? Ain’t no bottles. Ain’t no hookah. Ain’t no ass shakin’ in the background. Just bright-ass lights, retro game shelves, and grilled cheese sandwiches named after chess pieces. Some dude behind us was yellin’ about aSettlers of Catantrade like it was street beef. I felt like I walked into an after-school special.
But then Blyss smiled, and I forgot how to act. She was sittin’ across from me, legs folded under her like she was settin’ up shop, glasses slidin’ down her nose, puff sittin’ cute like it had its own personality. The girl had a whole Scrabble tile rack lined up like she was playin’ for rent money. She looked up at me with that spark in her eye and spelledephemeralwithout flinchin’.
“Eighty-three points,” she said, biting into her grilled cheese like she ain’t just hit me with a damn dissertation.
Me?
I hadacatsittin’ in my lap, nameJet. And I was gettin’ cooked. I scratched my neck and muttered, “You could’ve just said ‘hat.’”
She grinned. “Where’s the fun in that?”
I leaned back, pretendin’ like I wasn’t two tiles away from spellin’loser. She stole one of my fries, dipped it in her strawberry sauce like she paid for it.
Sexy, but disrespectful.
Then she leaned in, chin in her hand, real casual, and said?—
“If I win this round, you owe me a kiss.”
My eyes flew open.
I felt my heart tap me on the shoulder like,“Ayo, bruh? We doin’ this?”
“A kiss?” I repeated, voice tryna stay deep but lowkey shook. “On the lips or the cheek, Professor Wordsmith?”
She shrugged. “Dealer’s choice.”
“DEALER’S CHOICE??”
Nah. This girl was dangerous.
I leaned in slow, voice dropping low like I was about to whisper secrets she wasn’t ready for. “Aight. But if I win… you gotta call me“Captain Starstroke’”in front of the waiter.”
She smirked. “Captain, what now?”
I didn’t budge. “Captain. Starstroke. Say it like you mean it.”
Her mouth fell open. “You are so dumb. That sounds like a rejected superhero who gives people orgasms with eye contact.”
I smirked, playing it cool. “Exactly. So don’t lose.”
But inside? I was screaming.
