Vicissitude

I was in a black car that was driven slowly by the handsome man beside me. A man I don't know how to call him. In fact, there are no words that cannot describe how special this man is to me. He's very special.

The man occasionally turned to me who was still staring straight at the street. While smiling faintly, his hand, which was not holding the steering wheel, grabbed my fingers, then squeezed my fingers gently. I like this part. Forms of outlet of love other than making love.

Come on, I'm serious!

Making love doesn't always prove you love someone. It could be just to vent the stored lust or lust settles for a long time. Like Blake did to me.

I won't be able to easily forgive him. He didn't even say anything. No words of love from him. Don't expect much if you just never message! How can you admit that you love someone if you have never communicated with them? It would just be bullshit.