2020-09-04 21:18
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description
<p> Crash is rich, famous, handsome, and he used to be mine. He convinced me he loved me, then he disappeared. No explanation. Only empty excuses. </p> <p> He went on tour for a year, now he wants me to believe he was protecting me? That we can be together, and this time I can trust him? He wants to show the world we're back together. He wants me to sing. </p> <p> Not a chance. </p> <p> I don't care about the darkness that clouds his eyes. My heart won't falter just because he brightens only when he sings the song he wrote for me. Does he really think I'm still that gullible girl he left a year ago? </p> <p> Once, I asked Crash what it was like on stage. How he could connect with the audience—because he's famous for it. Always. Every show. </p> <p> He said that each crowd is an entity with its own personality. Some are playful, others solemn. A few worship. Others destroy. He said you just have to figure out how that night's crowd wants you, then give yourself that way. </p> <p> If that's true, then tonight's crowd is an expectant beast, already pissed that it's being forced to wait for him. </p> <p> But it doesn't have a clue. I've been waiting for a year. </p> <p> Now it's his turn. </p> <p> CONTENT WARNING: Language, sex, and sexual assault. </p>
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