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"I FUCKED UP

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"I FUCKED UP."

"You know what–scratch that. I fucked her."

Pleasantries, when it came to Dr Dufre and I, were overrated. Besides, nothing struck his attention like a good opening. And hell did I strike his attention. He pulled away from his sandwich reluctantly.

"Why do I even bring lunch?" He wonders softly before motioning towards the chairs.

"Please explain, but I beg of you, be less crude," Dr Dufre said and I nod.

Well, I would certainly try.

"Does this have something to do with the dress again?" He asks.

"Worse!"

"Worse than the godforsaken shirt?" He says incredulously.

"Federico."

This was more of a bridge to the real crux of the story. The main point was the fact that I slept with her. My overall attractiveness seems to have made her bend all of her morals.

The moment I woke up naked I regretted everything. I had taken her innocence and ruined it, snuffed out the light. It could not get worse than me. I the enigmatic but dangerous bad boy in all of the cliche high school stories. I was the playboy who rode a motorcycle that he seemed to fix himself even though he could have bought himself a thousand mechanics.

I was every parent's nightmare. And yet, hers thought it would a good idea to marry her off to me as if we were in the eighteenth century.

I had never resented sleeping with a woman before. I loved the feeling and they always welcomed me into the safe confines of their bedroom. And yes, Violetta had not backed away. Even when I asked her; giving her one last chance to not make the biggest mistake of her life.

"Do you regret the feeling?" Of course, Dr Dufre was very specific with his words.

Sometimes I played with the idea of lying to him. But then I would remember that he knew every inch of my brain as if he had taken an expedition inside of it. Maybe he had?

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