"You look good wearing my last name." My jaw slacks open and the bell rings then, him smiling a lopsided grin before grabbing his bag and strutting out of the room. »»-----　-----«« When Aspen Wilson's father passes away, she must go live with her mother 1,000 miles away and confront her about what happened 5 years ago when they got separated. She has a simple goal to ignore her guardians, finish senior year of school, and go back to her small town, but those plans are quickly flipped upside down by old secrets and a certain quiet boy at her new school who isn't as innocent as he seems. Saint Black was the kid everyone ignored. He was quiet, private, and alone with his books most of the time. He never paid attention to his school or his classmates, but when a new girl comes to town, he can't help but be drawn to her. A bad history with females and a secret he can't afford anyone to find out, he knows he's playing a risky game. But for her, it's worth it. »»-----　-----«« HIGHEST RANKS: #1 in doodle #1 in quietboy #1 in humor #1 in funny #1 in cute romance

"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