He was my dad's best friend. Twice my age. And the first man who ever made me come. He didn't just teach me about sex. He taught me obsession. How it feels to crave someone you're not supposed to want. How it feels to be ruined-and love every second of it. Then he left. Now he's back, acting like I should care. Like I owe him a conversation, a second chance, a piece of myself. But I'm not that girl anymore. I've learned how to fake smiles, how to bury want beneath anger, how to keep my legs closed and my heart locked shut. He wants to explain. I want to forget.
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