Ricochet My Love
Paroj-Parojshe wore a crown and came down in a bubbleyou're sixteen you're beautifulwhen you were sweet sixteenyou're sixteen you're beautiful and you're mine
I glanced at him, pokinh him with the sharp edge of my glare before turning back to the windshield.
“Which part of hell are you taking me to, huh?” I spat, my knee bouncing as I sat stiffly, muscles frozen like a plastic Barbie with broken joints.
“Thunder Towers, actually,” he replied casually, already pulling up in front of a tall building whose existence I’d only heard about which owned exclusively by people with more money than morals.
He parked near the wide marble staircase of the veranda.
“Thunder means Zeus. Zeus lives in Olympus.” He shot me a sideways glance. “So technically? I’m taking you to heaven.”
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