And at the same time, I feel the instinctive reaction to that longing: snuff it all out. I feel myself turning into the ugliest version of myself, and despite the newfound self-awareness, I can’t seem to rein it in.
“Sure it meant something,” I snarl. “It meant that I was horny. And you—well, safe to say you felt the same.”
“Stop what, princess?” I ask. “You don’t like hearing the truth?”
“This isn’t truth. This is more of your usual bullshit.” She crosses her arms, eyes flaming. “You want to talk truth? The truth is that you seem hellbent on being the kind of man your father told you you were. What is that about, Daniil? You claim to hate your father, and yet you do everything in your power to try and live up to his expectations of you. Why is that?”
A valid question. One that I happe
