— And why isn’t she here today?— She’s a little different.— What kind of different?— A regular girl, — Yan smirks. — She won’t be comfortable here.— You hooked up with a loser? — surprise and mockery. — Max…— I’m not judging. I like guys like that too, when you start feeling sick from models and “packaged” girls. — his friend laughs. — Losers are hungry for everything. Flowers, trinkets, and legs part easily. Besides, they’re often fresh and inexperienced.
So I get it, bro.
I clamp my teeth on my fist, because the sobs are ready to tear my chest apart from humiliation, and I run away before anyone notices me. For me, Yan became everything—and it turns out I was just a loser who spread her legs for flowers.