She always felt there was something about him she couldn’t trust with her heart. It felt to her that he wanted her like he wanted one of his art pieces—something to put in his apartment to look shiny and beautiful. Or that he wanted her because she had told him he couldn’t have her. He never seemed to be sincere. In some way, she didn’t blame him. It was the world that he’d grown up in. He wasn’t a bad person, but there was definitely something wanting.
