Novel & Cerita Priscilla X Subaru

"I totally understand. You are...a very busy person." "Thanks for understanding, Bryan." He tapped his shoulder, "I'll see you on Monday." Charles turned. Bryan watched him rush outside the gate, and until he entered into the Lamborghini. "He's not coming, is he?" Bryan turned to the voice. It's Priscilla Moore, a tall (maybe 6ft) goddess with long silky curly blonde hair, dressed in a branded black dress, with black boots. This sexy chick was a popular elite model, that would appear on the front page of every magazine, and she was known for being an international netball player. Next to her stood Taylor Rosecratzy, pretty girl in campus, although not necessarily in an obvious way. She ha

“My dad has five wives, you think he doesn’t know his daughters look?” Brute chuckled as he gave her a light side hug. “How’d your finals go?” “Really good, I think.” She beamed at him. “I passed my driver’s test.” “Good for you. What are you driving?” “The heaven.” Priscilla pulled out a piece of paper from her shorts pocket. Unfolding it, she showed him a new baby blue Harley Davidson soft tail. “As soon as we get my final grades and I get my motorcycle license, dad said that we’d go pick her up.”

I agreed, maneuvering the car to the garage with a slight squeal of the tires. “Naomi! Finally!” Priscilla shrieked, sprinting toward the car before I could even park. She was wearing an outfit that looked appropriate for a nightclub and her perfectly styled blonde hair was already starting to come undone from the force of her excitement.

“I’ll need clothes, shoes, maybe a decent shampoo, and—hell—some respect while we’re at it.” I rolled my eyes hard enough to see my brain. “Get in, Davina.” “Gladly.” She hopped into the back seat with a satisfied smirk, slapping the door shut behind her. Priscilla hesitated for a breath, then slid into the front seat. Quiet, but not tense. Not anymore. I rounded the hood and got into the driver’s seat, slamming the door and muttering under my breath, “Next time, I’m pretending I don’t see her.”

"Wanna know the small secret to success?" Miss Priscilla sinks in her couch, a cup of coffee clutched in her hand. She looks stunning in a floral shirt-dress with her long dark hair falling on her shoulders. She's effortlessly cool and stylish even at the young age of fifty-five. Her classes feel like a conversation with your bestie rather than an actual lecture. It's an online class but I feel like I'm on that white couch, sipping coffee with her.