I love grocery shopping. I could do it for hours. Going around looking at the produce and making up dishes in my head in the middle of the night just browsing between the produce and cold meats, spices, and boxed treats take my head off so many things that have happened lately. I'm not the most incredible cook but with the internet is pretty easy to whip out all sorts of food. But thinking about that list that keeps shortening every single day of articles I can buy is nerve-wracking. I have plans later tonight after work to hit the small market for, there's no way I'm going to all you can stare and can't buy supermarket. It's too cruel for my poor heart and wallet. Learning to shop for the necessary was a hard thing but now, since I'm flying solo now and needed less food at home without beck kinda forced me to do it. I'm dreading paying the part of the bills; Beck helped to cover things like the electricity, food, and the internet since he stayed in all the time seemed reaso

How is it that my life is a series of unfortunate events that repeat themselves repeatedly? I don't even know I bother with life anymore. I'm not learning from 'these events' at all. My life is a mess as it is, but now you have thrown shame to it too. Are you even up there? I whisper to myself while looking up at the dark skies, like, give me a break, God, it is not like I'm trying to be shitty at it, but I would like a little bit of good for once in a while me. If bad things keep happening to me, like having my ex-boyfriend fucking on my bed with another woman, the sudden appearance of my forever crush, and now, I was broke. Oh, and we mustn't forget that Liam H. Westbrook is getting the first-row seat to me, revealing my chest. Don't get me wrong, I am very proud of them, but I'm not into just showing them to anyone. This isn't Mardi Gras, and we're not that intimate, at least not yet. I finally recovered from the shock a quickly covered myself moving away

"I will, and so many other things." Even if he hadn't meant it to sound dirty, it had come out like that. My body responded by shivering, and he noticed it. His eyes darkened. "But right now, I need to brush my teeth. Morning breath is one thing I can live without." I watched him move, slow assertive movements as he slid off the bed and moved towards the door. His muscles tightening as his whole body move; if I was some art collector, his back was something I would want to have a photograph of, a huge one hung right in front of my bed so it would be the first and last thing I saw at the start and end of my day. I must have fallen asleep once again. I was alone now, completely covered with my sheet to my chin, more like wrapped like a burrito since the only thing exposed to the world was my head. I had no idea what time of the day it was, just that it was the middle of the day and there was supposed to be someone else in the apartment. His suitcase was in the same cor

Even a few hours after, and I can't believe I'm still hard. I can't stop thinking about her. After all those years, being able to find her again, have her again, touch her, and kiss her. Hell, if this was what an addict felt on a relapse, I was screwed. She was some sort of drug that I couldn't stop wanting to have. I'm currently in the middle of a meeting with a large staff, and I haven't been able to concentrate; the constant chatter is making me lose my temper, and the fact that I am really uncomfortable with my stubborn hard-on. Well, it is my brain's fault really, I keep getting replays of it all every single time I close my eyes; I can see her writing and move in front of me. Those throaty sounds and that crazy sexy smile. I'm doomed. I thought I was lost those years back, but now I'm really deep and fucked up. Leaving her had been one of the hardest things I have ever done. That damned phone call. Out of the times to call, all the idle times I

I never gave a damn about the night after; it was a given they would come back for more. Hell, I had to fight them off me, which was why I had several arrangements with different women.  A single text or a phone call, and it was a done deal. They would make themselves available for me. I would end the transaction by leaving a thick envelope, appreciating silence and time. Still, there were rumors but nothing concrete, nothing that proved the reality of it all. It was good business. I got what I wanted; they got what they wanted, the end. But now, now I'm worked up. I'm can't quite grasp the situation I'm in. She's hot and cold. I don't know where the hell I'm standing. We had a lovely evening, a cold sandwich, a few glasses of wine, and now I'm being sent home. On a Saturday night, before midnight. Dismissed. I'm stunned really, I wasn't expecting her to be so blunt about it. "Are you serious?" I'm tryin