Blinded

Chapeter 11

CLARENCE

We finally make it to chick-fil-a and I look over at shorty to see that her face is hiding behind all of her big curly hair. I reach my hand out anf tuck a few strands of curls out of her face to see that she drifted off to sleep.

She definitely drank too much tonight smh.

I grab her bag for her and exit out being her friend and Trey before I reach and grab her from under her legs and behind her head.

Her hazel green eye start to flutter open as I am carrying her inside of chick-fil-a.

"Oh shoot we are here?" She mumbles in her sleepy voice as she start waking up.

"Yea your were knocked, how you feeling love?" I ask as i put her down and she plops down on the seat at the table.

"Shit like I can take a few more shots" she says sticking out her tongue as if she was not just passed out on a 15 minute car ride to chick-fil-a.

"You need to relax" i say in a slightly sterner voice than unusual.
She's quiet at first, arms folded, hair still slightly messy from her nap. Then I notice her digging into her purse.

I swear, if she pulls out a bottle...

But it's not that. It's a little makeup bag.

She unzips it slowly, pulls out a compact mirror and some gloss. No rush, like this is her private moment even though we're in the middle of a Chick-fil-A at midnight.

She puckers her lips, draws a careful outline, then slicks the gloss on slow—top lip, then bottom, then presses them together with this soft little pop.

I try not to stare, but I fail completely.

Her lips glisten under the light, and without meaning to, my gaze trails lower—over the curve of her collarbone, the soft dip of her dress, and back up.

When I look back at her eyes, she's already watching me.

Caught.

But instead of looking away like most girls might, she gives me a lazy smirk. It doesn't quite reach her eyes.

"Boy, you checking me out?" she asks, voice light but with that sharp edge she keeps tucked in every sentence.

I lean back slightly, smirking too. "You sitting here glossing your lips like it's a commercial. What you expect?"

She lets out a low chuckle and leans forward on the table, chin resting in her palm. "Don't flatter yourself. I just like to look good—especially after falling asleep in front of people. Can't be out here lookin' crazy."

"You don't need all that," I say, nodding toward her gloss. "You already look good."

She pauses—just a breath too long—like my words land somewhere she didn't expect. Then she rolls her eyes with a quick smile. "You tryna run game on me at Chick-fil-A?"

I shrug. "Maybe. Is it working?"

She sits back in her seat, arms crossing over her chest. "You should save those lines for someone who hasn't heard them all before."

The playfulness dips for a second. Her voice is quieter, not cold—just cautious.

"I'm not running game," I say, a little more serious. "I just call it how I see it."

She looks away, her gaze drifting out the window.

"It's easy to say things when it's all just words," she murmurs, almost like she's not even talking to me anymore.