Every time I saw him it was as if someone had poured a soft drink into my bloodstream—I was all bubbly, and happy, and free. I thought maybe, maybe, he was The One.
As I turned around, taking in his home, my gaze fixed upon a photo on the wall. “Erm…who are those guys?”
“Those.” I pointed at the men, the eight men, that were making out on his wall.
“Oh, they’re my boyfriends. You’ll love them, and you’re just their type. They’ll be here any minute, now.”