9. Kase Madoxx #2
Once I zoned back into the conversation, Blyss was asking all the right questions.
The girl was smart, like, really smart, and kept making sure I was good.
The advisor said I could either start small with a couple of ETFs or go bold and join this real estate group looking to back young entrepreneurs.
Said my name was already penciled in for a follow-up.
I should’ve dapped him up, maybe hit him with a firm-ass handshake, and walked out like a boss.
Instead, I gave him a damn high-five. Blyss looked at me like I farted in church.
We stepped outta that investment office feelin’ good.
Blyss had this little bounce in her walk, grinnin’ all proud, talkin’ ’bout, “You did that, Kase,” like I ain’t just trip over every third word in the presentation.
But hell, money moves got made, and I actually understood every paper they gave me, all ’cause she broke that shit down like I was back in high school, and she was my cute-ass tutor. Then she turned to look at me.
“What is wrong with you today?”
I shook my head. “I don’t even know.”
“Wanna hang out right now?”
“Doing what?” she asked, cautious.
“Let me think about it.”
I glanced at her as we walked toward the car. She was still talkin’ about dividends or somethin’, but I wasn’t listenin’. Not really. I was focused on how the sun was hittin’ her cheeks, how her puff moved when she laughed. How I lowkey wanted to reach over and touch her lips.
Focus, fool, I thought to myself as I opened up her door and then climbed in on the driver’s side.
“Where to now?” she asked, slidin’ into the passenger seat
I smirked, my hand on the wheel. “I owe you some food.”
“You owe me a whole dinner, dessert, and an apology smoothie for makin’ me do math on my day off.”
“I got you on the first two.”
She rolled her eyes, but she smiled.
After that, she suggested we go to a café spot with damn cats and play board games.
I wanted to bounce, but I played it off.
In my head, though? I was goin’ off. Like, why the hell was I sittin’ in a board game café called Checkmate next time, I’d be ready.
I drove Blyss home with the windows cracked, the city hummin’ low in the background, and her legs curled up in my passenger seat like she owned it now.
She talked about stars. Not metaphorically, like, actual constellations.
And I listened. I didn’t know why, but I did.
When we pulled up outside her spot, I let the engine idle a second too long.
“This was fun,” she said, unbuckling her seatbelt, voice all soft like she didn’t just see me get violated by a house pet.
I nodded, lookin’ over at her. “Yeah… chaos and all.”
She giggled, opened the door, and stepped out.
I followed, hands in my pockets like I wasn’t overthinkin’ everything.
We reached her front steps. The porch light was on.
Moon hangin’ up there real casual, like even the sky was eavesdroppin’.
She turned to face me, arms crossed, puff leanin’ like it was in on the joke. “So… goodnight, Mr. Bottle Service.”
I smirked. “Goodnight, Professor Wordsmith.”
We just stood there for a second, and this weird-ass silence crept in. Not awkward, just heavy.
Why, I wanna ask her if she eats cereal at night? Or if she ever cried at a cartoon? Or what color her bedroom walls were in third grade?
Why do I care?
Me. Kase. Mr. Club Owner. Mr. Bottle Service. Mr. ‘Bring two bad bitches and a hookah.’ I was really out here standin’ on a damn porch tryna read her energy like a horoscope. What the hell was happenin’ to me?
“You good?” she asked, tiltin’ her head.
“Yeah.” I cleared my throat. “Just… thinkin’.”
She stepped up, real close, lips partin’ like she might kiss me again. I leaned in just a little, and then she hit me with a finger poke to the chest.
“Night, Kase.”
She turned, unlocked the door, and dipped inside, just like that. I stood there for a second like a whole simp with sauce on my hoodie and a cat scratched across my pride. Something was definitely off.