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There should be a Venmo for breasts that allows women to send and receive cup sizes with the press of a button.
Alex’s eyes narrowed. “No? Then who, pray tell, is your type?” It was too early for this. “Um…” I scrambled to think of a safe answer. “Ian Somerhalder?”
You think you know someone until something happens that proves you never really knew them at all.
Most people thought the biggest sacrifice they could make was to die for something. They were wrong. The biggest sacrifice you could make was to live for something—to allow it to consume you and turn you into a version of yourself you didn’t recognize. Death was oblivion; life was reality, the harshest truth that had ever existed.
I realized no one gives a shit. There’s no entity out there listening to me yell at them. There’s only life and luck, and sometimes both those things deal you a crap hand.”
“I never claimed to be Prince Charming, and my love isn’t a fairy-tale type of love. I’m a fucked-up person with fucked-up morals. I won’t write you poems or serenade you beneath the moonlight. But you are the only woman I have eyes for. Your enemies are my enemies, your friends are my friends, and if you wanted, I would burn down the world for you.”
A relationship without trust was built on a foundation of sand, and after a lifetime of drifting, I needed solid ground.
