In which I am you, you are me, and we are the moments that define us.

Sadie never even thought that her best friend, Jameson Blake, would kiss her at a party the night before he went back to school out of state. She also never thought that that kiss would lead into them, alone, in a darkened laundry room. And she definitely never thought that he would get her pregnant the same night. Or that she would hide it from him.

'A boy is lucky if he is a girl's first love; and a girl is luckier if she is a boy's last love.' A short story about friendship, love and not losing hope. ************ Highly cliche & cheesy story. Go on and read; you'll like it if you're a romantic. :D

It was pity that first made Dannie speak to him. She had known Ryan since she was a kid, but he had always been the popular Golden Boy, and she had always been the tomboy that didn’t mind not having any friends. It was odd, she had thought, that all the popular kids who had once kissed the ground he walked on, didn’t so much spared him a glance anymore, and it was this that made her sit with him that one faithful day and begin something that would only end up causing her pain.

Loving someone who doesn't notice your existence is hard. Loving someone who loves someone else is even harder. But, darling, I guess that's love.

[You can now purchase 100 Voicemails' paperback on Amazon!] After a car accident, seventeen year old Steve Carlton, goes into a coma. When he does wake up after a few months, he suffers from temporary memory loss. During this time, he starts to go through his messages and voicemails on his cellphone, trying to get a clue of who he used to be. Voicemails sent to him from a girl called Ari might have the answers to his questions. A story told through voicemails.

Ella was beautiful. Ella was fast. Ella was gone. Ella was never coming back.

At 00:00, Cinderella ran away from her prince, leaving a glass slipper on the marbled steps of the grand staircase. At 00:00, I ran away from him. Unlike Cinderella, I didn't leave a single thing behind. © sonderingly