Q.B. Tyler

“Fuck off, Jaxon,” Kate snarls. “You wish Carter paid you the time of day. Anyone with eyes can see he’s practically tripping over his dick to be with Stassi.”

Soft. Smooth. Rich.

I imagined it was what my father would sound like, if I had one.

The third, and perhaps the most pertinent time, he spoke to me. He told me he liked my pink overalls that I begged my mother not to make me wear. He gave me a grin, baring all his teeth and I almost melted. My heart slammed against my little ribcage and I couldn’t help but feel like I was floating.

The beautiful man noticed me.

Maybe he’d love me one day.

Maybe he’d kiss me like they do at the end of the movies.

But I was wrong.

So, fucking wrong.

Because although I saw him first and told myself at the young age of ten that I was madly in love with this beautiful man, said beautiful man fell in love with someone else.

My mother.

I was ten years old when I fell in love.

Two years later, I fell in hate.