Blinded

Chapter 9

KAYLA POV

I woke up to my phone buzzing against my thigh, the soft vibration a cruel contrast to the quiet stillness of my room. The light was creeping in through my windows, painting the walls in muted morning golds, the kind that tried to make everything feel calm. I wasn't calm.

I blinked at my phone.

Deposit from: Mom - $3,500

No message. No call. No "I miss you." Just money. Like always.

That's what she did—showed up in transactions, not in time. She was in Europe again. A different city, another photoshoot, another meeting, another excuse not to be here. Not to be with me.

I stared at the screen until it blurred, then opened our message thread.

Me: I don't want the money.
Me: I'm going to start making my own. You don't need to send anything else.
Me: I'm okay.

The lie was bitter in my mouth, but I sent it anyway.

I threw my phone on the bed and swung my legs over the side. The floor was cold. My body felt heavy, like I'd been carrying the weight of her absence all week.

I went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. My curls were everywhere—loose, fluffy, frizzy in places, still holding the bounce from yesterday. I didn't slick anything back. I didn't style a thing. I picked my hair out with my fingers until it was big. Wild. Unapologetic.

No makeup, just glowy skin. A touch of concealer, clear gloss, and a bit of mascara. I didn't want to mask anything tonight. I wanted to look like me.

I turned on my ring light. The natural lighting spilling in from the window kissed the sides of my face just enough. I sat on my bed, cross-legged, and tapped "Go Live."

"Hey y'all," I smiled, soft but warm, tucking a loose curl behind my ear.

"She's BACK??"
"You look sooooo good today omg."
"Natural Kayla >>>"

Their energy filled the room faster than I expected. It was like I was wrapped in digital love. Just for a second, I let myself feel it.

Then a name lit up the screen.

Clarence has joined.

The comments erupted.

"OMG IT'S CLARENCE."
"THIS LIVE IS LEGENDARY NOW."
"He's about to flirt, I feel it."

The request came in fast.

Clarence wants to go live with you.

I hesitated, then accepted.

His face popped up on the screen. Black hoodie. Skin glowing. Jawline sharp. His smile lazy, but intentional. That pretty boy charm wrapped in street edge.

"Damn," he said, licking his lips just a little. "You look good as hell with your curls like that."

I laughed, cheeks warming. "You just sayin' that."

"I don't lie on live," he said. "You got the kinda face that makes people stop scrollin'. Just raw."

The chat lost it.

"Kayla & Clarence collab WHEN???"
"Not him falling on live."
"This energy is crazy fr."

"There's a party tonight," he said casually. "Some influencer I barely know hosting it. Everyone gonna be there. You should pull up."

I paused. "Maybe."

He tilted his head. "You sayin' that like you scared."

"I'm not scared," I said, holding his gaze. "I'm tired."

That slowed him down. He nodded. "Fair. But even tired stars still shine."

I smiled, and before I could say anything else, the live ended. My phone buzzed with a DM.

Clarence: Still hope I see you tonight.

I didn't reply.

—

Later, I was curled up under my throw blanket, scrolling through comments and pretending not to feel anything. The sadness hovered, soft but stubborn.

Then I heard it.

The door creaked open.

"Kayla!" Alyssa's voice boomed.

She marched in, bottle in hand, ponytail long and sharp, lashes on, lips lined, and face beat.

"We are not doing this. You are not about to sit here looking like a goddess and be sad over him."

I blinked. "Clarence invited me to a party."

"I know. I saw. We're going. No arguments."

—

We pregamed to SZA and Ice Spice, dancing around my room like we were sixteen again. Alyssa wore a brown corset with loose cargos. I kept my outfit simple—black halter top, low-rise cargos, gold jewelry, and my hair: big, wild, unapologetically out.

"I love your hair like that," Alyssa said while sipping from her cup. "It's giving main character."

I smiled into the mirror. "I wanted to feel free tonight."

"You look free."

—

The party was already buzzing when we pulled up. Hosted by some random creator known for pranks and dance videos, the house was packed—lights bouncing off the walls, music spilling out the windows, phones out everywhere.

Inside, the crowd moved like one big scene—people posing, laughing, shouting over music, filming each other. The second Alyssa and I stepped in, we were watched. The curls. The glow. The presence.

I walked in like I owned the place.

We hit the bar, took shots, and made our way to the dance floor. The bass pulsed through me. I rolled my hips, let my arms wave, let my curls bounce with every beat.

Phones came out. Whispers surrounded me.

And then I saw him.

Clarence. Posted up with a drink, smirking at me like he'd been waiting all night.

He walked over—slow, deliberate.

"You really came."

"You really invited me."

He smiled, pulled out a bottle of Don Julio, and raised a brow. "You gonna open up for me or what?"

I tilted my head. "I ain't easy, Clarence."

"You look like you handle your liquor," he said, leaning in.

I tilted my head back, curls spilling around my shoulders, and opened my mouth.

He poured the shot in slow, the liquid chilling my throat. The crowd gasped, laughed, filmed. It was a moment.

I licked my bottom lip, eyes locked on his. "You do this for every girl?"

"Nah," he said, close enough for me to smell his cologne. "Just the ones who could ruin me."

I laughed, stepping back. "Good thing I'm not lookin' to ruin anybody. Just myself tonight."

From the sidelines, Alyssa watched, arms crossed. Clarence clocked her too.

"She mad at me?"

"She mad at the world," I said, turning back to him. "She's healing. I am too."

He nodded. "Well, you're doing it real fine."

And in that house full of people trying to be seen—ring lights, followers, edits waiting to happen—I didn't have to try.

I was the moment.