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The more Ithought about him declining my invitation, the angrier I got.

Being turned down was not… a thing that happened to me.

Granted, every sexual experience I could remember had been very specifically targeted – the way I looked, the things I’d said, the clothes I’d worn… everything was curated and neatly typed out along with a slew of other information telling me exactly what my mark wanted.

Tristan wasn’t a mark though.

And what he wanted wasn’t…me.

He kissed you though.

And explained exactly why he didn’t want to have sex yet.

Sure.

Logically, I understood the contradiction.

But, I was no longer operating on pure logic and calculated steps – itfeltreally shitty, that my first attempt at intimacy with someone who wasn’t part of a mission had been a fucking failure.

Because it wasn’t just a thing that happened – not for someone like me.

Failure was a complete state of being, a disappointment that deserved to be punished, harshly.

And hell… it wasconfusing.

Aman.

Notfucking someone he supposedly liked.

Men would fuck people theydidn’tlike, at peril of losing their family, friends, jobs, whole livelihoods.

Hell.

Theirlives.

It’s bullshit. Maybe you’re not his type.

No,thatwas bullshit.

I was everybody’s fuckingtype.

I kept my honey-toned skin glowing and flawless, kept my body fat punished into submission, hair nourished and healthy, and I couldn’t take any credit for my face, but that was fucking amazing too.

There was nothing wrong withme.

There was something wrong withhim.

Yeah, yeah, you’re cute.

But seriously, could you beanyweirder?

Oh.

Yeah.

Therewasthat, huh?

I hadn’t exactly been at my most charming, hadn’t yet mastered the keeping of my cool around Tristan yet. I always felt so brutally awkward, that it only made sense for him to have picked up on the same thing.

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