Devonte waited outside for you to come out of the beauty salon. He dropped you off at eight am, it was now almost nine.

He heard the door open, and look up. His stoic expression quickly faltered. A blush overcome his cheeks, his lips parted.

Your hair; small, light brown, forty-inch boho braids that stopped at your thighs. You looked absolutely amazing.

"Damn, ma." He whispered in a low tone.