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Rhyland: Where? When? Dylan: At Target. Rhyland: He works there? Dylan: Yes. Rhyland: Not anymore he doesn’t. I’ll see to it that he gets fired immediately. What the fuck was wrong with me? Why was I jealous? No—not jealous, just protective of the Bruce Marshall deal. I really didn’t need her to screw it all up with a meaningless fling. What if Bruce found out she was seeing someone else? What if that asshole posted a picture of himself with Dylan and Bruce somehow saw it? Dylan: I doubt you can get him fired. Rhyland: Oh yeah? Dylan: Yeah. Rhyland: Why? Dylan: He is a mannequin.
Am I supposed to find this cute..?
Most of my meals were Trader Joe’s prepacked dinners or pussy.
We get it!!! He’s a playboy, fuckboy, walking std!! Is this really necessary
It looked like if X’s elegance
I don’t stand for any X praise
“What’s not to like about pink? It’s the color of nipples and pussy—both my favorite things.”
😭
“You cut your hair.” “Yeah.” “Why?” I felt my face heating up. “Because you didn’t like the man bun.”
My cock sprung out like a freaky clown from a jack-in-the-box.
🤡
“Yes,” I lied. “I love her.” I’d told more brazen lies in my lifetime. I didn’t love Dylan. But there was no point in denying it: she was no longer just Row’s annoying, albeit hot, little sis.
Wow what a romantic 😍 (sarcasm)
