Kissing the Soccer Hotshot
720 Views · Ongoing · J. Cross
I used to bring him chocolates every morning. Handwritten letters. Smiles he never returned.
Kristoff Ricafort didn’t just break my heart—he threw it in the trash. Literally.
“Stop forcing things that aren’t there,” he said.
So I did.
I stopped showing up. Stopped hoping. Started choosing myself instead.
But now? He won’t stop staring. He follows me home. He even showed up on my bus, in my part ...
Kristoff Ricafort didn’t just break my heart—he threw it in the trash. Literally.
“Stop forcing things that aren’t there,” he said.
So I did.
I stopped showing up. Stopped hoping. Started choosing myself instead.
But now? He won’t stop staring. He follows me home. He even showed up on my bus, in my part ...


















































