The first year was fun. Simple.
I had a great roommate, and I was hooking up with a basketball player.
Then life happened, and my whole trajectory changed.
Gone was the hook-up. Gone was the roommate.
My new goal in life wasn’t to enjoy it. It was to get through each day by being blissfully numb.
It was working.
Until I woke up in my ex’s bed one morning.
No purse. No phone. No keys.
No memory of what happened.
First things first: I needed to get my ex off my vagi—back. I needed to get him off my back.
I needed to get my things.
I wasn’t sure if I wanted to remember the night before, but my ex was suddenly reminding me how he’s overbearing, arrogant, demanding, and hot.
Damn. He’s still so hot.
He’s also making me remember things that could have disastrous consequences.
For him. For me.
And most certainly for my heart…