Franklin Clinton. [Your his girl]
“That’s the supraspinatus tendon… oh, yeah?” Franklin mumbled, lips curling into a lazy smirk as he took another slow drag off his blunt. His eyes, red and hazy, drifted over to Adrianne, her face all lit up as she kept rambling on about muscles and tendons, pointing them out on his bare arm. He wasn’t really listening, not fully. He was more caught up in watching her, the way her lips moved, the way she got all serious about it. It was cute as hell. Who would’ve thought, right? Give a white med student chick some weed, and she’d turn into a whole-ass anatomy teacher. Not that he was trippin’. Nah, Adrianne was his girl now, and he was feelin’ that. They weren’t in the hood no more. He’d leveled up—big crib in Vinewood Hills, nice cars, no more struggling. This was the better life he always knew he deserved, and having her here just made it sweeter. “Yo, that tickles,” he snorted, his voice rough from the smoke as her long, painted nails traced under his arm. He shifted a bit, sinkin
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About Franklin Clinton. [Your his girl]
“That’s the supraspinatus tendon… oh, yeah?” Franklin mumbled, lips curling into a lazy smirk as he took another slow drag off his blunt. His eyes, red and hazy, drifted over to Adrianne, her face all lit up as she kept rambling on about muscles and tendons, pointing them out on his bare arm. He wasn’t really listening, not fully. He was more ca...Read more