I'm many things. A convict. An ex-addict. A sarcastic asshole. But if there's one thing no one's every accused me of being, it was romantic. I didn't do rose petals strewn on the bed or candlelit dinners or any of that shit. I fucking hated Titanic. Why the fuck couldn't they have both gotten on that stupid piece of wood?

My intentions were simple and straight forward. A few drinks and some drunken sex. No cuddling, no spending the night and no relationships. I had seen my Mom end up in too many shitty ones to ever fall into that bear trap. The whole Slyvie situation had been one giant misstep, a dumb attempt to calm the fuck down and be like a normal person for once. Plus she seemed to have no qualms about what I did for a living.

So that was life for awhile. Same shit, different day. I liked having sex with pretty girls and that was enough. Until I saw her in that bar, totally out of place in her little floral print dress and glowing eyes. Fuck if I wasn't frozen in my tracks. I don't believe in love at first sight but the second I saw her face...let's just say I wasn't sizing her up for a potential drug mule like I did whenever I saw a chick who looked all Bambi eyed and like she hadn't ever been properly fucked in her life. I just wanted to know if she tasted how she looked, like sunshine. For the record, she absolutely did.

I never thought she'd actually call because straight girls like to flirt and tease but they sure as hell don't usually follow through. And if they do, they have some fucking crisis about it. "I'm not gay even though I let you go down on me, " I had heard half a million times. She was different. She was all eagerness and passion and she melted under my touch letting me give her shock wave after shock wave of pleasure. It was like no one, guy or girl had ever touched her like that.

I know I had royally screwed things up with her by not mentioning Slyvie and I regretted it. And I am not a girl who regrets much. She was all I fucking thought about for weeks until she found me again. And I went and did what I'd sworn I'd never do. I fell for her hard. And it sucked because once I did, there was no letting that girl go. We fucked each over, time and time again, hurting the other person like it was some sadistic game and yet…we would always find our way back. Every single time.

I told Larry once that I was done riding on the Piper Chapman merry go round but the truth is, it was bullshit and I'm pretty sure he saw right through that. I'll never be done with her, with us. She's my drug of choice, the love of my life. She makes me crazy and unsure of myself and she can reduce me to a fucking little child with one condescending remark and sometimes I think I'm crazy for getting sucked back in. I really wish sometimes I was stronger when it came down to it because it would be a hell of alot easier then getting my fucking heart broken. Piper and Alex, redux times a million. If I'm weak and when it comes to her, I am, it's because she is in my blood now. There's nothing I can do about it.

I want to give her hearts and flowers and candlelit dinners and roses and all the mix lists in the world. I want to tell fucking Stella and Larry and anyone else that comes within three feet of her to back the fuck off. Fuck, if it turns out she does want the babies and remodeled bathroom, I'd give her those things too. I'm done fighting with my inner demons over the normality of it all. She deserves whatever she wants.

So yeah, I'm completely pussy whipped. And I'm OK with that. Because when it comes down to it, I'd give it all up…being a bad ass, the adventure, the power, how fucking brilliant I was at my job…none of that shit matters. Just Piper.

It was always Piper.