I'm addicted to you. You're my crack, and you also happen to be the only dealer.

You tie me up in knots. I want to play you a thousand different songs so you can get a clue of what... I feel inside me.

He's complicated and complex, a labyrinth I want to lose myself in. He's my fighter, and I really want to fight to be with him.

I used to dream of medals and championships, but now I dream solely of a blue-eyed fighter who one day changed my life, when he put his lips on mine. . .

There's an awful video of me on YouTube.com, titled Dumas, her life is over! which was taped by some amateur during my first Olympic tryouts and has had quite a bit of traffic-like all videos of humiliated people do. This is where the exact moment that my life shattered around me was perfectly immortalized on film and can now be played and replayed, over and over, so the world can watch for their enjoyment.

You think you need me, little firecracker?” The gruff question travels all the way through me, and I have to press my thighs together to stop the tremor in me. “Baby, the way you need me can only barely cover half of the way I need you.” The unexpected sadness in his voice yanks my gaze back to his.

...if I know him and like him just a little bit more than I already do, our emotional connection will be too strong for me to ever go back to the way I was before him.