Losers: Part I (Losers, #1)

by Harley Laroux

To the losers, the freaks, and the outcasts. Keep chasing sunrises.

He smelled like summer; like citrus, weed, and very bad decisions.

Society wanted things to be labeled, to fit into neat and tidy boxes. Sex was meant to be exclusive, romantic, and flawless. Friends were only friends and never lovers, nothing could grow or change. Who you used to be could never be separated from who you’d become. I hated it, rejected it.

Reject the boxes you’re offered and people will keep trying to shove you into them. They’ll put their labels on you and demand you adhere to them, and then if you don’t, it becomes your own damn fault that life is difficult.

I was weak as hell for this woman. She could stab me in the heart and I’d probably still forgive her.

“It’s no trouble.” Lies. “I don’t mind doing it at all.” This morning was hell. “It feels good to switch up my routine.” Nope, it felt awful.