The fucking arsehole just broke up with me two hours before my shift. And here I was thinking it was all going well. He actually said the words, “It’s not you, it’s me.” Like those sounds actually came out of his stupid mouth.

Arsehole!

Unfortunately, a month later, there was a party. Hosted by the one mutual friend who hadn’t chosen sides, my side that is, and insisted on inviting us both…

The first time I saw her, I knew I was hooked. It wasn’t her slim waist or her perky breasts, although they certainly didn’t detract. It was the small things that got me.

Like the way she would lean against the bench with her hips out just so. And the black laced choker that was ever so slightly visible above the collar of her uniform. It was her tongue ring and her dark eyeliner. It was how she looked at me when we talked, with those eyes that just screamed confidence. With those eyes that knew exactly what they wanted…