The ‘Rossador’ Behind Your Name Was Only Borrowed To You

“Izabelle, you came.”

Izabelle turned when she heard her name from the side. Jasmine’s heels clicked as she walked towards her. Behind her were two of her close friends and they walked majestically to her.

“Good thing that you honored grandfather’s invitation. I thought that you wouldn't come,” she said, coming to stand right in front of Izabelle.

Izabelle contemplated whether to walk away or to answer the seemingly annoying girl who would not rest until she annoys the hell out of her. She looked at her from up to down.

Jasmine was wearing a skimpy pink dress that hugged her body almost too tight. It was strapless too. Her shoulders and back were open and her hair was tied in a round bun. Her fair long legs made her look captivating and Izabelle could swear that she saw the eyes of men on the girl. She thought this was a birthday party. Why does it seem like a club to Jasmine?

“I know my dress is pretty. You don't have to keep checking me out.” The audacity. What's pretty? Who was