Switched at the Mafia Auction
Truth was, I’d already forgotten how to be this version of me who was girlish, reckless, alive.
Cheap Thrills was playing through the Bluetooth speaker, and the room smelled like coconut oil and vanilla body spray. Ariana was humming along, wriggling her hips in her tight jeans. Her energy filled the room so completely that for the first time in days, the silence in my head felt… smaller.
“Okay, babe,” she said, snapping her fingers at me. “Hair first. Then that red lipstick. Tonight, we’re not sad, we’re not tired, we’re not emotionally wrecked. We’re hot.”
Sikat na Kabanata