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Jameson Miles is my new drug. And I am his crack whore.
“A misrepresentation of society with unrealistic images that portray a fake lifestyle with impossible ideals,” I reply as I sip my wine. Don’t piss me off, bitch.
“Being in love is like being on a deserted island, Jameson. You focus on them and them only, and you make everything else fit around that person.”
“What is?” “When I follow you to your parents.” “You are not coming to my parents,” I scoff. “Watch me.”
With him, I am home.
my heart has eclipsed any physical need that my mere body desires
