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Promys Elyse Hart 20 somethings Chicago, Illinois
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"You so pretty, buttbutt," Sanai smiled, stepping back to admire her work. She had just finished Promys's hair for her business page, already planning what to post on IG later.
Promys didn't even know what the style was called at first, but once it came together? It ate. And she was always down to be a brand ambassador if it meant cute pics and free bundles.
"Aren't I?" Promys ran her fingers through her hair with a slight smirk.
"See how you drag it?" Sanai laughed, grabbing a black bow from her bag.
"I want a white bow. I changed my mind," Promys blurted, snatching her vibrating phone off the table before it slid off.
"Which boyfriend is that?" Sanai asked, glancing over. It wasn't shade either—she was genuinely curious this time.
Promys wasn't a hoe. But when it came to niggas? She had 'em. Easy.
"It's Dman," she said, pressing decline.
"Girl, he like twenty-something," Sanai said while tightening the bow.
"I knowww. Spare me indignity." Promys stared at her reflection in the mirror, lowkey zoning in on her face.
Some days, she didn't feel pretty. But she knew she wasn't ugly.
"I'm just saying—you my little sister. A twenty-one-year-old nigga can't do shit with you."
Sanai moved around the room, capping bottles and cleaning up the scattered tools like second nature. That was just her. Always in caretaker mode, especially since their mama hadn't always been around.
She was now, yeah. But they didn't forget the times she wasn't.
Promys was only seventeen. Eighteen next month. She could see where Sanai was coming from... she just ain't wanna hear it.
"I hear you. But we don't date." She shrugged.
She hated when Sanai got in her mommy bag. But that's all Sanai knew—raising her since forever.
