Masked

1ch. girl wants revenge on all men becuz of an awful experience in her past-must learn to trust and that's the idea...

Ch. 1 I had to admit, he did have great hair.  Soft and curly.  Unimaginably gorgeous.  Like myself.  I restrained myself from touching though I didn't think he'd mind either way.  His puppy eyes were adoring me, watching my every move, hoping I was willing to play his game.  Of course, I was willing--to play my own.  I knew what his game consisted of: dinner and a movie, a goodnight kiss, but wait--the winner did need a trophy now, didn't he?  Somehow that kiss would work it's way up to the bedroom where intimacy needed a whole new definition.  Expectations much too far when mine were...well, no expectations at all.  He should be expecting nothing more than a kiss goodnight.  He should be expecting nothing more than a good movie with a beautiful girl.  He should be expecting me to lead him as far as it would go for the night.  He shouldn't put his expectations before me, because my expectations were no where near as high as his will ever be.  Why?  Because they didn't exist.
 He slid his arm around my shoulder and relaxed it there.  Propped up.  Leaning on me.  How dare he think I was his to keep?  I know this was just a movement, a step up, nothing intimate--something that should make me happy or excited.  But it didn't.  I was not his "girl".  I was not a tramp, a s**t, or a b***h.  I was Peyton Reed Buchard.  I was someone I didn't really know how to explain.  I wasn't really sure who I was on the inside, but I knew exactly what people thought of me.  The beautiful girl who had it all, who had every guy tied to a single string, slowly cutting them off with the most awful experience.  I had men all over me, wanting me, groping me, wishing for my attention.  I tempted them, taunted them, encouraged them to make a move.  I bewitched them.  I mocked them.  I broke their hearts and misguided them.  It was never all in fun.  It was my duty, my business to do this.  To run them over one by one.  To bring them over to my apartment, then let them down easily--oh, my mistake.  I meant to say, crush them.  Destroy their hopeful hearts.  The revenge was not fun.  The revenge was not sweet as most people thought it was.  It almost hurt me to do so to these poor guys.  To see them get their hopes up high only to end up being crushed in the end.  Millions of pieces shattered on the floor that I neither wiped up or possessed.  I left it there--to admire my pride and honor.  No man was in control of me.  No man was I theirs' to keep.  I was no one's and they weren't mine.  But they let me use them and I did.  I ridiculed them, embarrassed them, ran them over with my empty, dark soul, and they took it like lost puppies.  I had no care for them.  No use for them, because I knew, in the end, I would never marry.  Never find true love.  For true love ended with God and the happily ever after was exactly so--thriving only in fairytales.