PROLOGUE

How can some things be wrong but feel so right at the same time?

Why do people easily judge others by their past or mistakes as if they have never done anything wrong?

What could be the rightmost thing to be considered acceptable and decent enough for this society?

People have hundreds -- thousands of questions. Some who are extra courageous seek answers. If not, perhaps, a bit near to answer their hows and whys, which could make them satiated would work just fine. Others, who should not be labeled less courageous—somewhat they were those who were comfortable with what life is giving them, might be contented enough to not ask for more—seek for some more.

“Have you heard of Noel's daughter? That kid's pregnant by a university student,” the man's voice was one of the things she's used to hearing every dinner on a Sunday. He wasn't talking to anyone in particular but her mom and herself alone could hear every word. “You know what the kid answered to him? They're in love,” he scoffs as his hands continue to slice the piece of beef on the plate. Tristen only swallows her food, not bothering to chew them unintentionally. “They're fooled by their hormones.”

Tristen, from that moment, had realized that even someone so close to her could belong to those people who stick up their noses in others’ lives and that she would be one of the courageous ones. She wanted to perceive things. Not to completely understand, but to get a glimpse of things just so she could be more empathetic. She wanted to be empathetic just to end up being one of the people who would be the ones to suffer from the weight of others' words and vices.

I wanna know just how to love you, the Jewel of California.

I wanna skip stones on your skin boy. Hold tight and love me longer.

“Angelface,” the hoarse voice of the other made her eyes open. She looks at him under a dark gaze that matches his drunk-like expression, and a hand comes to hold the side of his face. “No. I won’t ask you to stop, ‘Ji. No way in hell,” she whispers next to his mouth and bites lightly on his chin. Tristen knows that reaction­—had it known for many long months. Even under the dimmed light, she sees how he swallows his sounds, not letting Tristen that she gets through him. But the next thing he does was to flash that wide grin, a hand then presses her side and a chaste kiss landed on Tristen’s neck. “No stopping. Right, angelface.”

My boy like a queen, unlike one you’ve ever seen.

He knows how to love me better.

She could only wish happiness was easy to touch... Could only wish she was courageous enough to perceive this type of situation she got herself into.

“I love you,” the buzzcut guy lifts his face before letting those painful words come out of his sinful pair of lips. The background music that was left playing perhaps was one of the things Tristen could point out so she can pretend no confession just happened but she had heard it crystal clear.

A hit of dopamine­ —higher than I’ve ever been.

He knows how to love me better.

You're safe like springtime.

Short days, long night, boy.

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