Better Than Fiction

by Alexa Martin

I don’t even like myself half the time and you’re telling me it’s a good idea to latch myself on to one other person until death do we freaking part? Or more likely, until they cheat, get bored, or whatever other reason fifty percent of marriages end in divorce.

My expectations are in an elevator that crashed through the floor and is now taking the direct route to hell. I go into every relationship with people who identify as male assuming they’re either a liar, a cheater, an asshole, or the grand trifecta of all of the above.

Who would’ve thought that I, of all people, would end up with a love that’s even better than fiction? Talk about a plot twist.