Hunted By The Player

goodness the girls are still at the pub. I can't explain what just happened half an

ne where he wanted and done what he wanted. And how could anyone possibly resist him? But I am not a bitch, and that's how he saw me, but it is not how I see myself. Though I am sad

clear in my min

in her bed, still sleeping. I am so tired and blank

anna sitting and drinking her cof

I ask, curious about all that I must have misse

ute guy. The Spaniards kiss well," she says

aining quiet, not kn

ayer left together," she tells me, rolling her eyes

a bit irritated. A part of me wanted to yield in, but then I remember him saying that silly sent

m?" she asks, her black eyeballs l

his late-night bitch. I was furious, so he brought me home. It's over," I

me as I mim

kill you for hearing that?" she says, getting all cross-eyed

again," I conclude, wondering why I feel as thoug

the websites that I usually go to. As always, he is once again in th

celona. They say that the mysterious girl is a Spanish American, and the two would have left the pla

the photos and see the tip of my head inside his Lamborghini! These bunch of jerks have th

s a "what's going on" expres

he says, laughing. Gr

ing about the one after me. Imagine if he wasn't

publication had details about where and how t

I don't know where my cellphone is. I look for it in every corner of the apartment and nothing. Perfect, just what I need

haven't stopped eating. How could I not when I was surrounded with such delicious fo

k. I listen to several songs, and in-between them, I think about Hunt

tes; everything is related to football. This city doesn't know how to like anything else, doe

talls I pass, all of them have people wanting the shirt with his name on the back and his number, of

t night. But that's good. At least I have lost a little more weight. I make my way back home and

borghini is par