Dove
"I don't know how many times you're going to fight that thing," Rodney laughed as he laid down on my bed flipping through magazine after magazine. "Just let it go already. The university sometimes lets us lend one out if you ask the professor with just enough sweetness in your voice."
I looked back at him with a clipped expression. "I will never and I mean never get rid of Bianca Sofia Sanchez," I argued and rubbed my hand over my sewing machine. It had a little smoke coming out of the back.
I quickly stood up and opened the window. "It just needs some fresh air from here to here. Just like your brain when you're trying to figure out whatever next French Montana print you want to stitch over and over again."
"Hey!" He pointed at me with a defensive look. "French Montana's silk shirts give me life! If that doesn't scream Miami to you then I don't know what you want. Funny you mention that. I'm working on a new piece-"
