f**k. Cars. And f**k more. It was supposed to be the motto of my life. A cheesy slogan people go by nowadays. What do they call it? Yes. Aesthetic. My aesthetic was supposed to be a carefree playboy—f*****g everything walking.
Fuck. I was well aware and needlessly proud of my looks. I'd f**k myself too if I could.
But, as I looked into Rara's dark eyes, I realized that I didn't know who I was anymore. Amidst the confusing mix of emotions, I saw the diminishing hatred and felt my fantasies fading away. The lies I had told myself were dispelled as the truth became clear in the harsh light. Although her body responded to me, we were still enemies, with mutual enmity. Even though her touch aroused desire in me, there was a violent undertone and my need for her was darker than anything I ha
