~ISSA

I knew I was never going to get enough of Yulia as we both left the house.

She did not dress like a typical teenage girl— a short skirt, make up and painted nails with heels like every other teenager would have opted for.

But no.

She dressed like she was going to pick a fight. Black leather jeans that hugged her perfect legs with knee length leather boots. She had on a black V neck t shirt with a black leather jacket that I knew belonged to my sister. I could still smell Marianna's ...