Winning games. Cheers. Trophies. Spotlight. College Football star, Golden Boy, and Browning University's Quarterback, Holden Reyes has all eyes on him as he runs beneath the stadium lights. Runs to the winning score. Runs to the partying. Runs to the spotlight. Runs to the escape exit of his own desolate childhood waiting room. Holding pens. Stories. Apprehensiveness. Hidden. Winona Bennett, living life through the shadows of her made up worlds and mind's creations. With a supermodel for a mother and sister, she is the silhouette to the shadows of their spotlight shined gleaming faces. She wasn't built for the spotlight, rather just secretly walking past her writings in the hands of others on the streets of Manhattan. Oh, the thrill. Except what happens when the paths of each others' comforts cross over each other in a night of what a romance author would refer to as divine disruption? #1 in writer #1 in gold rush #1 in popular guy #1 in Manhattan #1 in supermodel #2 in famous #2 college #1 in popular #1 in collegeromance #1 in youngadult #1 in shy girl #2 in cute

{𝘉𝘖𝘖𝘒 𝘖𝘕𝘌 𝘖𝘍 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘓𝘖𝘝𝘌𝘓𝘌𝘚𝘚 𝘛𝘙𝘐𝘓𝘖𝘎𝘠} Ria Romano knew hurt like the back of her hand. She was dealt her fair share of bad cards, more than anyone so young should have to face. A cynical girl riddled with the remnants of her past, a shattered sort of soul. She concealed like it was second nature; her instinct being to suppress. She'd offer you a cigarette with a shrug while you were crying because she never was too great with affection. She didn't smile so often but when she did and it was directed at you, you'd never feel such satisfaction. I was told Aria preferred to be alone, isolated; clouding her mind with inhales of her cigarette and drowning it in alcohol. Until she was dealt her good card, out of the pack of bad. They had a love beautiful enough to last a lifetime, the type directors desire to capture and authors aspire to write. Two souls, shattered by the cruelty of the world time and time again with flames that rekindled each others. They were each other's oxygen. They breathed life back into each other, those two insomniacs. <3

"You're atheist," I remind him. "You don't believe in god." "I believe in you," He murmurs, letting the cigarette hang from his lips. "I believe in whatever you believe." He says, letting the confession roll off his tongue as if it were that simple. As if god, the devil, heaven, hell-as if none of it really had meaning to him. "That's not how it works," I mutter as we walk down a few more alleyways-the city of Manhattan coated in a light blanket of snow. Henry Vitiello had never had anything to pray for, that is, until he met me-the only thing that had ever opened his mind up to the possibility of religion "Isn't it?" He argues, taking the cigarette by his middle and pointer finger before blowing the smoke out. "I'II dip my hands in holy water if it means I could touch you." "You'd probably burn." 𓆩♡𓆪 𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐘 𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐎, the reaper. He's a prick. An asshole. A pretentious son of a bitch. He's not perfect. He's not even decent. But he's hers. She could be a bottle labeled poison but he was an alcoholic, and he had drunk her empty. Now he was hungover. 𝐉𝐀𝐍𝐄 𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒, the healer. She's known to be the perfect good girl, with perfect grades and a perfect life with a perfect family. They didn't know that behind the gated doors of their billion dollar estate, she was strapped down to a chair every night and picked apart just to be put back together in time for supper. 𓆩♡𓆪 star-crossed; adjective (of a person or a plan) thwarted by bad luck. 'star-crossed lovers' and that, they were. So they fucked under those very stars that tried so desperately to break them apart. 𓆩♡𓆪 ‼️DISCLAIMER ‼️ BOOK REFERENCES TO MARA DYER, SHATTER ME, MIND FUCK, ETC ARE ALL INTENTIONAL SO DONT BE RUDE. AS FOR TRIGGER WARN

She wanted to die. He wanted to live. ••• A hand grabbed onto my wrist, yanking me back just as the train rushed past, before I'd even had time to comprehend whether or not I'd carry out the action. I stumbled back into the person's chest, my heart jumping out as I swivelled around, startled to find myself staring into piercing dark brown eyes. "Were you going to jump?!" "No," I drawled out sarcastically, ignoring the intensity of his eyes as they bore into my own, "I just stand on the edge of train platforms at midnight because I feel like it." Seeing the stranger tense, I stepped away from the edge, feeling his hand let go of mine as I picked up my bag before moving to sit down on one of the platform benches. Letting out an evident sigh of relief, he sat down after tentative movements towards me, and I could feel his intense gaze raking across my features. His eyes never left me, I was sure of it, with every step both he and I had taken. "Are you okay?" He had asked warily, apparent apprehension in his deep voice while he spoke, "Do you want to talk about it?" "What's there to talk about?" I threw his question back at him, watching him study me for a few critical moments before his potent gaze switched to our surroundings. "I did just watch you nearly kill yourself; that might be a place to start?" ••• She didn't expect for a complete stranger to stop her milliseconds away from committing suicide. She didn't expect him to be so kindhearted and patient. He didn't expect to stop her from jumping in front of a train the first time they met. He didn't expect to find himself falling for the one girl he knew he shouldn't. [Word Count: 180,000 - 200,000]