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November in Los Angeles wasn't like November in the other parts of the country.

It could be a hot 85 degrees during the day, only to go down to a blistering 40 degrees at night. People still wore summer gear along with their brand-new comfortable Uggs. We didn't have snow on the ground, but if we looked far enough, we saw it on the mountains.

I love Los Angeles.

It's the place I grew up in, it's the place I call home. I love everything about this city and what it entails. I love the good of it, embracing the different cultures that have taught me a thing or two.

Soccer moms constantly rubbed shoulders with tattooed hipsters, who talked about the newest unsigned act. Celebrities were spotted getting a cup of coffee as even the non-fan of people would gawk and admire.

Executives didn't parade around in business suits but instead, flip-flops, cargo shorts, as they drove mini-scooters on the sidewalk to be "socially-conscious." Conservatives and liberals put their differences aside as they all waited in line at their favorite marijuana dispensary.

I love the bad of it, getting frustrated at the insane amount of traffic for no reason other than everyone's traveling at that particular time.

I despise the ugliness of it, the paparazzi stalking the celebrity's move, everyone wants to be insta-famous instead of a household name, and the devastating violence that could shame an entire city.

Regardless of how I feel about my city at any given time, I can't imagine not living here. I love the mom and pop joints that the hipsters haven't discovered. I love I could go anywhere unnoticed and no one stalks me with their camera.

I only had one other super love like this and I'm trying to forget how he knocked the wind out of me the night before.

It was official – Soul Ellison was my manic pixie dream boy.

I tried to convince myself I didn't love that man, I couldn't love someone I'd barely known, and there was no future in our frontin'. It worked for two years. I hadn't heard a peep from him and I erased everything about him from my memory.

Until last night when he showed up at my doorstep and declared his love for me. Everything came flooding back from when he comforted my tears, to the way he owned my pussy as if it was curated just for him, to the way he took care of me at my darkest hour.

I press my lips as I remembered how he declared ownership over my body and I didn't try to contest it. The way he pressed his body against mine, his lips drank from mine in the sweetest taboo...

I hate Soul Ellison. I love Soul Ellison. I want to be with Soul Ellison.

He is the youngest member of the world-famous Ellison family, and a force to be reckoned with. Unlike his brothers, Soul didn't venture in the legal field or politics. Instead, he was his own man with a successful fashion line and sneaker collection. Hypebeasts talk about his fashions the same way fashionistas talk about Gucci.

He was thirty-two years old, and yet, Soul was one of the richest men in the world. He was also one of the hottest men I had ever laid eyes on.

It wasn't like he had a face anyone could forget. He was sculpted from head to toe, with two full sleeves on his arms. His tawny skin had just a little bit of hair, yet it was never too much and gave him an added sex appeal. His lips were sensual, sexual, and wicked. I didn't know if I preferred them on my lips, my neck, or the inside of my thighs.

Day One Without Soul has officially started, though we both know when it'll stop. He gave me a month to make up my mind about him, about us. He declared he was coming back to get me regardless of my feelings on the matter.

And then there's the tricky issue with Jared, my on-and-off again ex.

It's not a love triangle I'm caught in and no one has to wonder if they're #teamEdward or #teamJacob with me. I know where I stand with both men. One terrifies me because he could give me everything, yet he's in the public eye and is constantly watched. The other is that comfy, old blanket that had seen better days but you keep around because it knows you.

I don't consider Jared my boyfriend, but I'm not entirely sure what we are. I know after I caught him sexing my best friend, I wanted to be rid of him for good. Then, loneliness and missing Soul kicked in. Jared convinced me that he was a changed man.

Or so I thought. Old habits die hard.

We're not living together and I can't even say we're a traditional type of couple. Jared shows up when he feels like it. I tolerate it because I'm stupid. There's nothing more to be said.

Still, a part of me hopes this is just a phase and that he'll be the boyfriend I know he can be. I also know I need to stop wasting my time if I have even a slight feeling of being with Soul.

My eyes gravitate towards my closet as I choose my outfit for the day. The bright pink Fresh Nectar top and skinny jeans call out to me. I slide the smooth fabric over my body and I'm impressed how well it fits despite my weight gain.

I'm not a skinny chick; not that I ever was. I can't just order clothes online and know it'll look bomb on me once it arrives. I have to physically go inside the store and inspect every nook and cranny as I scrunch up my nose and twist my lips about how I could work it.

But I'm not the latest 'big is beautiful' cover model. I'm a healthy size 12 and it's big enough where I'm considered thick and I can fit into Fashion Nova to see how my ass moves.

I remember how much Soul liked my curves.

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