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When they reach the cursed object, Lily stops—so she won’t hit it, you know. “What’s that?” Lily asks, her doe eyes wide as cherry pies.

“A helicopter,” the rich-ass billionaire answers.

“And what is a helicopter, babe?”

“It is a means of transportation for wealthy human beings like me.”

“Well, that seems complicated. And why do wealthy human beings like you need transportation?”

“Bitch, I can’t fly. The chopper is leaving.” At this, Every, the seven-foot-tall guy, nearly shouts. He grabs Lily-Why-En’s air-thin waist and hauls her onto his mile-wide shoulder, running after the helicopter as it takes off without him.

Swish.

Swash.

This is the sound of Every leaping onto the moving helicopter, by the way. Then he proceeds to bitch continuously at the drunk, high, underpaid seventy-five-year-old pilot for not waiting for him.

“Alright, next time, my man,” the pilot murmurs under his breath, that stinks. “This time, I’m sorry. You can have one, though. I rolled it myself; it’s safe, no laced fentanyl.” He hands the pissed-off Every a white roll of weed.

The young man declines, looking absolutely disgusted by the offer, then prods a glittering diamond button that makes a privacy divider close shut like that of a limousine. Is there such a thing in a helicopter too, dearest readers, your author does not know.

He goes back to his seat beside Lily-girl, now shaking.

“Ev-vie, help save me,” she whines like a horny bitch in heat. “I’m too young and pretty to die. This—this crappy thing of yours is totally gonna crash.”

And what was that comparison earlier?

Don’t mind it, just a random intrusive thought of the author’s thick head.

“This is the safest helicopter in the world, girl. My grandfather assured me that.”

Lily blinks her wide eyes suspiciously. “Wait, what do you call it again? A helicopter, oh, yes, a helicopter. You know what, I’m so deep in poverty right now I can’t even say that word properly.”

“Just call it a chopper,” Every suggests.



They fall into a relaxing fucking routine: simply staring out the window into the stormy grey sky, wondering if the chopper is going to hit a bee or a bird or any random flying creature and decide to just crash. After all, these flying machines have a habit of doing just that. Lily Lazygirl—like the feminine form of the sofa brand—soon falls asleep despite the growing anxiety slowly taking root in her stone-cold, pitch-black heart.

Wow, so poetic.

Really, this is quite a foreboding sign.

Turning towards his pretty sleeping girl, Every, the tall and broad, the one with the broadest shoulders in all lands and kingdoms under heaven, the best gains in the entire universe, and the sharpest chin to end all chins, gently wakes her up.

She looks up groggily, light shining in her viridian eyes the moment they meet his dark ones. Her heart beats a beat faster, as if it knows exactly who she adores. Still slightly confused from being so high up in the air, the sweet girl sighs softly, wearily, though a small smile dances on her lips.

What a corny paragraph.

But even with how corny it is, readers still like gobble it up hungrily like the new flavor of Baskin-Robins.

And this wholesome vibe is totally getting wiped out by the next scene.

Watch.

Every smiles at her too, unable to hold it back for absolutely no reason. “Lily Lils, I’ve always known that you were different from the rest. You see me as who I really am, don’t you, not like the others who only stay with me for the fame and dollar bills. And most importantly, I see you too. And I like you, unlike all the other normal girls I don’t care about.”

You know, there was once this girl who had a crush on him, really.