Cheat With My Boyfriend Best Friend

Finally, she was mine.

Not just her body, but her heart, too. Her adoration for me sparkled in her eyes. As faint as it seemed, I knew it was inextinguishable.

My chest swelled with satisfaction.

This level of emotion was rare for me. In fact, I always considered myself unnatural because I was always emotionally indifferent and uninterested. Every one of my childhood tutors expected me to kill myself or the people around me. They were certain that I was some kind of sociopath. A freak.

But they were wrong. I had no interest in destroying society.

Who cares about the grass under my feet or the buildings lining the roads?

To me, the world was like an amusement park where I could do anything I wanted. Going to Harvard was as, easy as climbing on a merry-go-round. The world was nothing more than a wh*re with her legs wide open for me.

How could anyone expect me to respect a b*tch like that?

But Olive was different.

Our encounter was just nothing more than an accident, but that led to her becoming my little secret. She’d stolen my heart.

When did I get so interested?

Maybe it was when we met…

No, it wasn’t love at first sight. I just couldn’t help myself. Olive was a beautiful woman with high cheekbones and fiery red hair, but she wasn’t the only beauty I’d ever seen. I’ve met many others-cute, s*xy, blonde, toxic-and I could have any I wanted. For the longest time, I always slept next to a different woman, and when I woke up, I realized I was lying next to a stranger.

But Olive… I was obsessed with her long before I slept with her. Long before I even talked to her.

With those emerald green eyes, she reminded me of my precious Mrs. Dalloway.

Mrs. Dalloway was a snow-white cat I’d met at my

grandfather’s grave in the cemetery. I tried to pet her pearly fur, but she slipped away, jumped up a tree, and looked down at me lazily.

She rejected me.

grandfather’s tombstone. Around that time, I finished the book “Mrs. Dalloway,” which I named her after. The white cat reminded me of the lady in Woolf’s novel, a collection of stories shrouded in

entire time, she ate my food, yet

insisted on visiting her every day for the

warily at me. It was like

1841

through to my decaying soul

many things

Like Mrs. Dalloway.

Like Olive Woods.

a c*cktail party. Jake and I had gotten bored of the subpar champagne, and at that point, we were chatting about the women on the dance floor. In this place of hypocrisy and lies, the only tangible things

your type is the chick in the green dress. D*mn, her t*ts

I followed Jake’s pointed finger and looked over to a woman dancing in a short dark green dress. She was s*xy for sure, and she definitely knew how to flaunt it. Her breasts and thighs were

Let me guess, you’re probably attracted to Nicole Kidman too, huh? G*d, she

I stared at the woman in green. She would’ve looked better if she had green eyes. Green

it!” Jake’s disgruntled voice snapped me back to reality,

absentmindedly. “I’ll

I don’t want your money. You wanna compensate me, you

“Go for it.”

of those women

after,

mind letting you in on a thr*esome,” he offered.

Seeing you naked

invites for the whole month, Jake began to wonder if something was wrong with

told him that I only

worse than

Was I?

I in love with