Falling Lies

Greyson Dawson was once my ideal man, or rather, the "perfected" version of my ideal man.

When we established our relationship, his life was far superior to mine. He had a car, a house, and came from a good family. As for me, I hailed from a district in Labrudor, just graduated from university, and was interning at a newspaper.

I first met him when I went to his workplace for an interview. My boss assigned him to deal with me, the rookie reporter. Seeing Greyson in his uniform, I found him dull and overly formal, with a fake smile and indifference. I wasn't impressed and decided to challenge him, bombarding him with questions. He stumbled through his answers, yet there was a hint of respect in his eyes.

Perhaps he thought, This young lady was cool!

Feeling triumphant, I hid my pride and politely left my phone number, telling him to contact me if he had any additional information. It wasn't until after my article was published that he finally called, inviting me to dinner.

We met at a bustling restaurant on Beswiaqua, the warm yellow lights making the crayfishes look particularly inviting. He peeled them one by one, his long and elegant fingers expertly removing the shells. At that moment, with the hustle and bustle around us, he seemed captivating.

Finally, after peeling many crayfishes, he casually asked, Greyson casually asked me, "You're so young, have you ever dated?What kind of guy are you looking for?"

I squinted at him, saying, "If I encouraged you, would you dare to pursue me?"

He was so startled he took a gulp of his drink, and I burst out laughing, slapping the table so hard it echoed.

That night, Greyson drove me home, and we ended up in bed together, becoming a couple.

By our second meeting, less than a week after we met, we had already kissed and slept together. To be honest, at 23, I wasn't particularly eager for intimacy, but there was something about Greyson that evoked an inexplicable sense of warmth and trust.