I’m never leaving my bedroom again. Maybe I’m not ready for adulthood or college or big decisions. Maybe I’m just a stupid, eighteen-year-old kid. What was I thinking, trying to scheme Tristan into a relationship? He doesn’t want a child for a girlfriend. Sex is one thing, but going public when his
“I don’t know.” My voice is unbalanced. “It started out as a crush on your dad, but then it just…snowballed. And then I couldn’t breathe unless I saw him at least once a day—” “Gross. Look, is he the reason you’re friends with me?” My chest seizes with disbelief. “What?” I reach out and grab his a
I expect him to be standing on the other side of the orange door. But I never could have expected to walk into the hillside of swaying cherry blossom trees to find Tristan in a tuxedo, a pastor holding a bible to his left. Tristan’s head lifts at my entrance, his expression transforming with love,
Five Years Later Every year, on the anniversary of our impromptu wedding, me and Lia renew our vows. It’s always the biggest party of the year—and it’s happening tonight. If you told me a decade ago that I’d be the kind of man who looks forward to parties, I wouldn’t have believed you. But I have t
God help me. I’m never going to find out. “You’re here,” Lia squeals, tossing her clipboard onto the closest table and bounding over, throwing her arms around my neck and pressing up on her toes. Opening her mouth beneath mine and exploring me with her tongue, as usual not giving a flying fuck abou
No matter what age Lia is, I would have fallen in love with her. She’s my soul mate—end of story. But I would be lying if I said there weren’t certain perks that come with being married to a girl fresh out of college. For instance, her generation has a thing called twerking. And she does it for me
Gage Weston has a stellar reputation that extends from the classroom to the football pitch. West Dale High's football god, a knight-in-shining armour to the girls, and everyone's personal favourite. But this all fades away in senior year. Family issues and scrapes with the law waters down everything
My scowl doesn’t stop her from twisting hair around her finger and giggling. “I can’t believe it. Mr. Gage Weston himself in my dorm room.” “Yeah, Stella,” I grit, bitterly, wishing I had a fifth of whiskey in my hand. “Lucky you.” “Oh, I’m not Stella,” she laughs, as if it was a wild assumption.