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.