From One Night to Love
I was no longer in Nassau but in Brooklyn, where the sky was covered in clouds, the temperature was lower by twenty degrees, and instead of Jarvis's sweet rainbow drink, I was now sipping Sauvignon Blanc bought in a supermarket downstairs.
Joy, my best friend in the entire world, was sitting in a chair in front of me. Her beautiful straight, black hair was tied in a messy bun, but that didn't make her permanent resting-bitch face any less intimidating. Her gently slanted dark chocolate eyes were fixed on me, and the Death Note tee she was wearing served as a subtle reminder of something she often told other people: Joy was not a name but a sarcasm. Yes, Joy Nakamura was not the girl anyone w