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Weekly Contest #337
Ace stood in front of his room mirror, combing short, black hair that fluffed back with each stroke, leading to the comb being useless and discarded into the trash bin.“I give up, my hair seems to have chosen its fate in shape.”He looked into his own dark eyes in his reflection, tugging on the cotton, cream-coloured turtle neck, “Don’t mess this up, You sick 21 year-old bastard.”A grin curved his lip.A love-sick idiot, his friends had called him.He shoved them off then, but now he started thinking that maybe. . .Maybe they were right.His lip...
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