Pucking Forbidden Claim
Billiejo Priestleynot throwing away my shot lyrics
“Oh yeah, that screams Rook.”
I exhale through my nose, shaking my head with a smirk. “Alright, fine. Hot pink glitter it is.”
Harlow claps excitedly as we both sit down at the nail stations. She stretches her tiny hands out, letting the technician start on her, while another woman turns to me with barely contained amusement.
“Full manicure?” she asks, trying not to laugh.
I glance at Harlow, who nods eagerly.
“Yeah,” I say, shaking my head as I hold out my hands. “Let’s do this.”