Nueva Orleans, Luisiana, 1927. Amor, muchos hablan de amor cuando encuentran a su supuesta media naranja, vamos, no seamos idiotas, todos sabemos que ese estupido sentimiento no existe en realidad, simplemente nos obsesionamos con aquella persona y ya, ¿en donde entra el estupido amor? -¿entonces no me amas? -Oh, Charlie, no confundas esos términos...con lo que en verdad siento. -¿que quieres decir? -trato de decirte que estoy obsesionado contigo, y sobre todo, te quiero solo para mi. #1 en charlastor 15/02/2021 HISTORIA 100% MIA NO SE PERMITEN COPIAS NI ADAPTACIONES. DISFRUTEN LA LECTURA.

"What the hell?" I took a step closer to the mirror, staring at my reflection in disbelief. The person looking back was still me, but at the same time it wasn't. I had the same thick, dark, curly hair. The same hazel eyes. The same olive skin with a light dusting of freckles (ugh) scattered across the bridge of my nose. But my curls were now streaked with highlights. And not the subtle, golden-brown ones that sometimes appeared during the summer. No, these were an aggressive, dazzling blond that went from the roots of my hair all the way to the tips. It looked like I had spent a full day getting my hair done in some upscale salon. Never mind that I had never set foot in such a place since the day I was born. My eyes appeared somehow wider and more luminous. The colour brighter, my eyelashes darker up against them. And, when I looked closely, my pupils seemed to be slitted almost like a cat. I looked down at my body. My skinny arms-which had always refused to gain any definition no matter how hard I exercised-were lined with flat, wiry muscles. My bony shoulders were now curved and smooth. My scrawny legs were toned like a dancer. I reached down and lifted my shirt, revealing two subtle lines running vertically down my perfectly flat stomach, hinting at the rock-hard abs underneath. My whole body was rippling with strength. Like liquid steel.

Hadley Jamison doesn't know what to think when she hears that her classmate, Archer Morales, committed suicide. She didn't exactly know him, but that doesn't stop her from feeling like there was something she could have done to help him. So to Hadley's surprise, on the very night of Archer's funeral, she has a run in with Death himself and is offered the chance to go back in time to stop Archer from ending his life. The catch? She only has twenty-seven days to do it. And if Hadley doesn't succeed? Well, she doesn't want to think about that.