My Toxic Golden Boy
489 Views · Ongoing · Agatha Christie
In my past life, my childhood friend—the star quarterback—threw away his Ivy League scholarship for some hood rat, even getting mixed up in drug deals. When I tried to pull him out of the gutter, I got shanked by gang members on a cold, rainy night.
Yet there he was at the police station, holding that trashy girl tight, telling the cops: "Emma had it coming. Always butting in, trying to run my life."
Second time around, I'm back to the day he begged me to cover for him with coach so he could take that girl to get an abortion.
I looked into his desperate eyes and gave him my sweetest smile, taking the fake sick note: "Don't worry, I've got you covered."
I died for you last time. Your turn now.
Yet there he was at the police station, holding that trashy girl tight, telling the cops: "Emma had it coming. Always butting in, trying to run my life."
Second time around, I'm back to the day he begged me to cover for him with coach so he could take that girl to get an abortion.
I looked into his desperate eyes and gave him my sweetest smile, taking the fake sick note: "Don't worry, I've got you covered."
I died for you last time. Your turn now.














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