In Or Out

S1E6.

❝Out: Of The Ordinary❞
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❝Unhappy is that grandeur which makes us too great to be good; and that wit which sets us at a distance from true wisdom.❞

Baton Rouge, Louisiana
Bluebonnet Boulevard, Mall of Louisiana

"Next in line!"

Shifting forward with the rest of the people in front of her, Britain patiently waited for her turn to order at the Chick-fil-A counter. Her lunch break was only thirty-minutes, and she hoped she could beat the usual 12:00PM rush in the mall's food court.

Clicking her iPhone's lock button, the screen lit up and revealed a recent picture of Jazlyn as her wallpaper and the current time. She only had nineteen minutes left before she had to report back to work, and she prayed that Chick-fil-A followed through with their well known speedy service.

"What they sellin' over here that got this line so long?"

The masculine, raspy voice floated over Britain's shoulder, and she flinched when she felt the man's warm breath hit the back of her neck. His breath didn't stink, but it wasn't an invitation to blow it on her neck and invade her personal space. Turning to confront the man, Britain's scowl slightly faltered when she got a good look at him.

He had cat-like eyes, tinted with a light shade of gray and shadowed by bushy, arched eyebrows. His skin was cinnamon brown touched with a deep red hue, and a thin beard traced his jawline. Britain's eyes trailed up towards the top of the man's head and she hummed low in approval. His silky, wavy hair was neatly parted and plaited down in box braids that stopped right at his broad shoulders, and his teeth were polished white and lined with dark blue braces.

As handsome as he was, he looked way younger than Britain's twenty-seven years of age, and from the gold chains dangling around his neck and the tattoos tracing up and down his arms, his company didn't seem like the type she needed.

"Chicken," was all Britain said before she turned back towards the line and moved forward. She exhaled loudly through her nose when the man shifted with her, and turned her head away when the man leaned in closer.

"Damn, baby. You ain't have to say it so mean, wit'cho sexy ass," he replied, throwing the compliment in so casually, Britain blinked in skepticism when the words registered.

Furtively looking down at herself, she wondered what the hell this man saw that made him think she was sexy. She wasn't dressed in her best today—the black keyhole blouse and navy blue slacks she wore did little to accentuate her figure, her makeup wasn't done, and her month-long box braids were reaching their end date—but for some reason, the man couldn't stop staring at her.

She never thought of herself as being unattractive, but she also didn't think she was this man's type. He looked like he preferred the ghetto fabulous girls with long acrylic nails and wigs that hung past their ass.

Before she could apologize for her attitude, Britain paused when he offered her his right hand to shake. "Fabricio my name, but everybody call me Fabo." He introduced himself with a wide smile and glowing chinky eyes. His accent was different compared to the Louisiana twang she'd grown used to, but it wasn't that far from the average southern dialect. She wondered where he was from.

The line for Chick-fil-A shortened as someone stepped out of it, and everyone else who waited shifted up, Fabricio still next to Britain with an awaiting hand. Smiling just a bit, Britain placed her hand in his and told him her name. He was cute, and she saw no harm in entertaining him for the next few minutes or so, especially when she knew their encounter wouldn't go past the food court.