I Kissed A Badboy And He Was Mine
He stepped a little closer, not closing the distance completely, but enough that his presence felt more direct, more intentional.
“Then stop trying to make it perfect,” he said. “That’s not how this works.”
I studied him for a second, trying to understand what he meant beyond the words.
“And how does it work?” I asked.
“You decide what matters to you,” he said. “Then you stand on it, even when people don’t like it.”
“That sounds easier than it is.”
“It is easier,” he replied. “People just make it complicated because they care too much about being liked.”