Kharise is not a lover. The very thought of it is repulsive to her.
Mostly because she has had her heart broken in such a manner that seems irreparable.
Living in a world where her father shows her the littlest love known to mankind and her best fr...
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...uh are you- are you Danté Carson?
...I just look a lot like him. My name is Logan. Logan Hart.
If there is anything I hate, it's when people lie to me.
...Yeah, my voice ain't all that..
Or when people use me.
Either you do it or I don't...
And that shrimp called Dante or Logan or whatever.
...I'm sitting next to a fucking popstar people!...
He was buttering me up all this while.
...when can we meet again, you know, hang out?...
I can't believe I was so dumb, I should have seen all the signs. Well how could I when I had already started to fall for him?
Those eyes always did the trick for me. He would just look straight at me, you know, that kind of look that makes it feel as if we are the only two people in the world. And then his touch, God. I fought it, I fought feeling this way about him from the day we met at the restaurant up until our day in the rain. I'd never felt so happy in a long while and I was slowly starting to let him in.
After my ordeal with Jay, I feel utterly stupid for letting another guy hurt me like this.
"Hey bitch." Layla sits down next to me at the fountain. She notices my sad vibe and sighs, leaning on my shoulder. "That was you, wasn't it? The song?"
"Yeah." I reply, my voice croaky with anger and hurt. But definitely not tears. I don't cry.
"So let me get this straight, that Logan guy is Danté after all." Layla concludes with the very statement I'm still struggling to accept.
"Yes, yes he is."
"Oh that son of a..."
Her voice trails off while I try to shrug off the stinging reality.
Logan is Danté after all.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I'm really not in the mood to take calls right now. I glance at the caller ID hoping it's not any of my parents, because my response won't be, to say the least tolerable.
