“I'm serious.”
Before I could say anything else, he leaned down and kissed my forehead.
“Now, go get dressed.”
I stared at him for a second.
“You really not gon’ tell me where we going?”
“Nawl.”
“You annoying.”
“And you still gon’ get dressed.”
The smug look on his face told me he thought he'd already won.
The irritating part?
He probably had.
I pointed at him.
“If I come downstairs and don't like where we're going, I'm blaming you.”
“Cool.”
“I'm serious.”
“Me too.”
I shook my head and started toward the door.
The second I reached it, I heard him behind me.
“Wear something cute.”
I stopped and looked over my shoulder.
“Kyrie, I swear?—”
His laughter followed me all the way down the hallway.
I ended up changing into something simple, but still cute, because knowing Kyrie, he wasn’t about to take me anywhere basic. I slipped on a fitted two-piece set, fixed my hair, added a little gloss, then grabbed my purse before heading back downstairs.
Kyrie was standing near the front door on his phone when I came down. The second he looked up, his eyes dragged over me slowly, and that familiar smirk pulled at his lips.
“Damn,” he muttered.
I stopped on the bottom step and looked at him. “What?”
“You.”
I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t stop the smile tugging at my lips. “You say that every time I get dressed.”
“’Cause every time you get dressed, you look good as fuck.”
“Kyrie.”
