Jesse
I had to walk away before I threw her over my shoulder, took her up on her offer, and showed her with my body just how much I didn’t give a f**k what others think. But it would have been wrong. She was confused and upset and vulnerable. So I kissed her goodbye and left, and the whole drive home, my anger brewed, growing stronger and stronger.
How dare they insult my girl? I should have heard. I would have handed them their f*****g asses. Can’t they see how beautiful and wonderful she is? How sweet and kind? Loving and fun? Why does age matter?
I sigh and recline on the sofa when I get back, debating what to do. I hope she’s okay, but I was sure of what I said—she needs to decide if this is what she wants. If she can handle this. People will whisper. I don’t give a f**k, but clear
