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54: Mister Landlord

Malik was a gentleman. The epitome of perfection. When I told him I had nothing to wear, a big fucking lie, by the way, I didn’t expect him to offer to take me shopping for a dress. Lana said I could pick whatever I wanted, so I grabbed a pair of shoes and jewelry to match the dress. I didn’t know if those two were an item, but I wouldn’t overthink it. I refused to act on my jealousy like I refused to climb on his lap in the car and beg him to let me ride him like a horse.

He made me feel things. Things only Waylen had come close to making me feel. Things I thought only Waylen was supposed to make me feel.

What did that make me? In Waylen’s words, that made me a whore. I kicked memories of him out of my mind. My ‘supposed’ betrayal was not a reason for him to slut shame me. I would assume that was a thing with males given what happened at the stadium last week, but Malik was proving my theory about men wrong. He was a gentleman.

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