My Enemy [BL]
The morning sun felt warm on my skin as I stepped outside, and the Harrigan mansion’s driveway looked like it belonged in a magazine. Right there, leaning against her lilac car like she owned the place, was Millie Peterson. You couldn’t miss her—those soft curls bouncing around her face, oversized shades reflecting the gates behind me, and a pastel pink top covered in tiny crescent moons. Her wrists were adorned with gemstone bracelets, jingling with every move she made, and honestly, she sparkled every time she took a step.