On the first day of school, I mouthed off to a rich girl who drove a Porsche, then turned around and found my childhood sweetheart blocking my way.
The next day, my academic advisor called me into her office and opened with, "You went and got yourself into trouble, just like that."
I thought that would be the end of it. But then the pure-hearted campus belle started asking me to study with her every day, the haughty rich girl kept coming to the cafe where I worked part-time and ordering seven drinks, my cold and aloof academic advisor kept a closer eye on me than anyone else, a gentle upperclasswoman brought me food with every meal, my childhood sweetheart got jealous right outside the cafe, the mature proprietress used me as her "male model" draw, the student council president recruited me to shoot videos, and a rich heiress hired me as her bodyguard.
Eight girls blocked every path through my four years of college.
Their admirers came after me one by one: rich heirs, campus bullies, family-arranged blind dates, and business rivals. They lined up to pick a fight with me.
I didn't go easy on a single one of them.
If they had a sharp tongue, I talked back. If they got physical, I hit back. If they played dirty, I played dirtier. I made money while face-slapping people, and face-slapped people while making money.
All I wanted was to make some money.
How did it turn into a battlefield of love?
Well, since we're all here, none of you are getting away.
