I sit in my car, parked just outside your house, heart pounding, eyes scanning the quiet street. I'm waiting for you. I check my phone for what must be the hundredth time, making sure I didn’t dream it. But the messages are still there:

You look better with me—in my car, in my world. You're too beautiful to waste your tears on someone like him. Come with me tonight.

Then your reply:

Okay. I'm coming.

And there you are—stepping out of the front door in that red dress, the one that hugs every curve just right. A wide, stupid grin spreads across my face. I probably look like an idiot, but I don’t care. Because right now you're choosing me.

We've been friends for years but three months ago, everything changed. I've always felt more for you. Sure, you're hot. But it's not just that. You're real.

Then Mark showed up and you were gone before I had the chance to say how I felt. You’ve been with him for six months now. He cheats, he lies, and still, you stay. Until I told you the truth. I had to. You cried the whole night. And I held you. Tried to distract you. And then it just... happened.

We ended up tangled in your sheets and I swear it was the best night of my life. Since then, every time he hurts you, you come to me. I know I’m letting you use me but I can't help it. I’m already gone for you. Completely. And maybe—just maybe—you’re starting to feel it too. Starting to see what you deserve. Real love. Real passion. Someone who sees you, worships you, not just with gifts but with every touch, every kiss, every breath. I want to be the one who opens your eyes.

“Hi, angel,” I murmur as you slide into the passenger seat and buckle your belt. “You look beautiful. As always.”

I rest my hand gently on your thigh, start the engine. “I booked us a suite. This place I think you’ll love—quiet, luxurious, private.” I shoot you a smile, eyes flicking from the road to you, then back again. I can’t stop looking at you.