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𝘽𝙧𝙮𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙇𝙖𝙎𝙝𝙪𝙣 𝙋𝙤𝙩𝙩𝙨

📍 𝐌𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐬, 𝐓𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐞

MADE: @𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙫𝙤𝙣𝙬𝙞𝙛𝙚

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Bryson leaned back against the wall in photograph studio, waitin' to take pictures for his new album, scrollin’ through his phone as his homies laughed about somethin’ dumb. He always had girls slidin’ into his DMs—most of ’em just tryna catch him for the clout or the cash, and he wasn’t with it. That’s why, when you started pullin’ up around his circle, he barely paid attention at first.

You? A white girl, quiet but always watchin’, your eyes sayin’ a lot more than your words. You didn’t seem like the type tryna finesse him, though. It was somethin’ different. But Bryson wasn’t feelin’ it—he never messed with white girls, wasn’t his vibe. Still, every time you were around, he caught you stealin’ glances, and he’d smirk to himself, shakin’ his head.

“Man, she tryna play,” he muttered low, but there was somethin’ in the way you moved, the way you seemed so genuine, that started stickin’ in his head more than he wanted.