✪ 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧. (⚠️Underage female protagonist.)
They said he was a ruthless, thuggish, and demented man, Yéri Francinova believed it. When all things go and going nowhere fast and the climax has been reached, she finds the best of him an...
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As it was the next day after Nahmir's listening party, Yéri stood in a blue, orange, yellow and green horizontal tye-dye spaghetti strap scoop neck dress as she worn short, black lacy wedges, with her hair in a curly wave style cascading down her back.
As she was rubbing body oil onto her arms and wrists, she saw Nahmir leaning against the door wearing an all black fit of AF1s, a hooded fur coat, jeans, and a Black ski makeshift beanie. It was the morning, perhaps almost five and he had gotten home a few minutes ago from staying in office to complete his stack of forms. He stood with his hands in his pockets, watching her dress herself from once she had started putting her clothes on, her not aware until now.
"Is there a reason why you're staring at me, Nick?" Yéri asks as she brushes her hair, looking at his tall, lean physique in the mirror before her.
He tilts his head, "You know it's cold outside right now, wearing that lil' thin ass dress. Where are you going at this time?" his voice was low, tired from being out all day and night.
Yéri spritzed her perfume on the warm areas of her body, "I'm going to work," she then began to prep her lips with brown liner.
"Why so early?" Nahmir had just gotten there. He was tired and wanted to have someone underneath him.
"Because I have a job," she simply answers, "just like you."
Walking towards the closet, Nahmir takes off his jacket, randomly throwing it into the closet.
"Why you just do that?" asked Yéri as she watches him kick off his shoes and lay on the top of the black duvet, almost blending in with the dark pigment of the cover. He never responded to her question, "Nahmir, hello?" she was confused, "I just asked why you did that because it was inconsiderate, knowing I keep the closet straightened," she mutters, placing her gold 3" hoops in her ear holes.
"I'm inconsiderate?" Nahmir starts, "You is from speakin' with yo' school nigga outside the door. Obvious y'all was standing there for a minute," Nahmir mentally questioned the two last night, but held the question, "and what you expect, I'm tired," he had Devae right where he was, he didn't have to find him and could've ended him on the spot.
"Yeah, just catching up," she says.
His lips curl into a lopsided grin, "bet that nigga gassin' you up, too."
"Gassin' up-I don't want to keep arguing over petty shit, I'm finna drive out in a few," she says as she slips her green cardigan over her shoulders along with her tan shoulder bag, "fuckin' stressin' me," she mumbles.
