"Why… why are you saying that? Do you not like me?" Amara stuttered, looking at me nervously.
I wanted to point out some flaws in her, but my mother taught me better. She taught me to always respect a lady. But I had to break her heart. I sighed inwardly.
"I don't like redheads," I blurted out curtly.
"No problem!" she replied instantly. "If you don't like my hair, I will dye it black, brown, blonde, whatever color you want or like."
What the hell was she? She was the first girl who wasn't annoyed at me for complaining about her looks and hair and was even comfortable changing herself completely. I guess she was not the feminist type.
"I've never been one for relationships, never been the committed type," I confessed, blatantly. "I enjoy the thrill of different women each night and on
