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“Your swag.”
She grinned. “Swag? Me?”
“Oh, absolutely. I never saw you around here before.”
Chanel shoved her hands into her pockets. “That’s because I’m from Brooklyn.”
“Damn, Chanel. Don’t tell this nigga your entire life story. You don’t know him,” Mecca chimed.
“I’m not trying to create any conflict. I’m just trying to have a nice conversation with a beautiful woman, that’s all,” said Mateo.
Mecca rolled her eyes and sucked her teeth, but Chanel smiled. She couldn’t help but to blush in front of the male stranger.
“So, where y’all going?” Mateo asked.
“I’m on my way home.”
“Oh, that’s sad. I thought maybe we could hang out, maybe get something to eat—”
“We’re not hungry!” Mecca blurted.
“And it’s getting late,” Chanel said.
“I understand. How old are you anyway?”
Chanel didn’t want to tell him her real age, but she didn’t want to lie to him either. Her smile was innocent. She kept her attention on him and said, “I’m sixteen.”
“Sixteen! Wow, you’re young.”
“I know. And how old are you, Mateo?”
He grinned. “I’m twenty.”
“Damn, you’re old,” Mecca blurted.
Mateo laughed. “I’m old, huh?”
“Yeah! What, you’re into young girls? You some kind of pervert?”
“No. I’m into gorgeous women, like Chanel,” he smoothly countered.
The remark made Chanel smile more, but her glorious moment of compliments and flattery was short-lived when Mateo said, “Well, it was nice meeting y’all ladies. Y’all have a nice evening.”
His gaze lingered on Chanel and then he pivoted and walked back to the Range Rover. Chanel felt like a balloon that had been abruptly deflated. Just like that, he left without taking her number or giving her his. She was disappointed.
“You scared him off, Mecca.”
“He was too old for you anyway, girl.”
“What, you’re my keeper now?”
“No, but I know his type. He just wanted some pussy, that’s all. And his friend didn’t even get out of the truck,” Mecca said.
“Ah, are you jealous,” Chanel joked.
Mecca laughed. “I did it to save you. You were looking thirsty, girl.”
“Oh, I was looking thirsty?”
