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I channeled toxic masculinity. The key to acting like you had a dick was being a dick. I didn’t make the rules.
Handsome. Like a glowing machine gun.
“First, we break you. “Second, we break you. “Third, we break you.”
Even I can fucking see that.” His milky white eyes stared off into the distance. He was blind.
I bet a pretty boy like you hasn’t seen a day of hard work in his life. You’re going to get destroyed.” I gnawed on my lower lip and fought a smile as I ignored his blathering about me being privileged. Sun god help me; he thinks I’m pretty.
I grimaced at his cheery demeanor because happy people always freaked me out.
They were the worst type of people in all the realms—men who knew they were hot.
My feminine chakra trembled with horror. It was an interior design war crime.
Was he hot? Yes. But did I have standards? Probably not.
A horrible thought struck me. Was I becoming part of the patriarchy? Was I the problem?
Orion mouthed, “I don’t believe you.” My stomach fluttered like he was flirting with me. I needed to be put down.
Sixty percent bruh. Thirty percent dude. Ten percent fuckboy. Those were Aran’s stats, and I was embracing them.
Instead of talking shit behind each other’s backs like normal people, they talked shit to the person they were insulting. Then they had the audacity to get butt hurt when the person got pissed. It was like when they were growing up, they were so busy trying to be all macho and strong that they never learned how to gossip effectively.
as far as I could tell, men served no purpose in society. I’d rather have intimate relations with a rock. At least a rock wouldn’t insult me.
my head spin, and I saw stars. Either I was heavily concussed, or I was having a religious experience. I hoped it was the former. Praying seemed like a lot of work.
He exerted dominance. I exerted “needs medical help.”
god, I hated friendly people. There was something so nice about them that it was freaking creepy. Like where was their self-deprecation and hatred for life? Where was the spice?
Did every man have anger issues? Well, I knew what my first act as queen would be—mandatory anger management therapy for all men. No exception.
“You know you’re my best friend, right?” I said as we walked toward Lothaire’s office. “John’s great, but you know he’s a—” I lowered my voice and whispered, “—man,” like it was a venereal disease. Because it was.
“What values?” Sadie and I said in unison with exasperation. Killing people? Mental illness? Looking sexy?
How dare they assume I was a virgin that was into men. Was I a virgin? Yes. Was I into men? Yes. But it still didn’t give them any right to assume things about me.
