My mood as shit because of all those people online posting misinformation about me. What's their deal with my personal life anyway? Who I date, what I eat, when I shit and with who I sleep where.

Yes I'm a rapper, a popular one, considered a celebrity even, but it's really none of their business. If I decide to share stuff, then through interviews, radio talk shows or my Instagram, but not like this. Not through some crazy fans leaking pictures on Reddit and God knows where. My management can't even track those people down. And for what? I'm not that stingy. What happened, happened. The only thing I can do now is prove my fans wrong. That I'm still a good guy and not some asshole.

My nerves and thoughts are a whirlwind, when a girl bumps into me. One second the look in her huge doe eyes resembles recognition, maybe she knows who I am, but then it switches to... worry? Her brows furrow and she avoids eye contact.

"Sorry...", she mumbles her apology. My gaze wanders over her body, curvy and hair wild from the wild, "No problem".

she's pretty

My eyes look further down to her waist, her hand is pressed onto the green shirt she's wearing, and now I'm the one who's concerned.

"Is that blood?" My hand reaches out to grab hers and pull it away slightly.