A boy with black hair and an athletic build—that's how you could describe me. I had just stepped out of a house that could only be described as magnificent. I walked toward a sports car worth at least half a million dollars. That 18-year-old boy with such a car? That was me, Lucas.
I got into my car, a sleek black sports car, and set off to meet someone. I arrived at a basketball court where a young woman, barely 20 years old, was waiting. She stepped forward and said:
— You're late.
— I'm sorry, I had things to take care of, Jennifer.
— I don't care! How could you leave me alone for 30 minutes? Do you know how many guys tried to hit on me?
— And do you know how many girls tried to hit on me?
— I don't care. I know you love me too much, she said, hugging me.
I met Jennifer when I was 14, and she was 16. I found her incredibly beautiful, and it took me no more than three months to finally make her mine.
— So, Lucas, should I show you the house I found? It's cheap, too! And guess what? It used to belong to my grandmother.
— Then let's go.
— Will you let me drive?
— No.
— Please…
— No.
— Then I won't talk to you anymore.
As soon as she said that, I kissed her immediately.
— Lucas, what are you doing?
— If you stop talking to me, I'll just kiss you instead.
— What?! Where's the consent in that?
— Who gave you permission to stop talking to me?
— I decide.
— So do I.
— If you let me drive, you'll get a surprise.
How could I say no to my girlfriend when she promised a surprise in return for something?
— Okay…
— You perv.
— What? What did I do?
— Why did you smile when I mentioned a surprise?
— Because I'm just happy to hear your voice.
After that, she kissed me.
— Lucas, let's go.
— Okay.