Some stories have villains.

Some stories have heroes.

But in this love story—the one I lived—Gucci is both.

Expensive car.

Designer shoes.

Neck decorated with heavy gold chains.

And rocking Gucci from head-to-toe.

He came into my life like the storm I'd never expected, forcing his way into my life with all the cocky arrogance that a man who built his way up from the bottom could possibly have. Like a god in human form, he seduced me with ease, and

though I tried to play hard to get, he knew from the beginning that he would be getting me.

There are a million and one reasons why I shouldn't love him. A million and one reasons why I shouldn't want him. And tons more for why I should've ran in the other direction the instance I saw him walking my way. Gucci is intoxicatingly

toxic, a devil in designer shoes. He's the last man on Earth that I should ever want.

But I want him anyways.