STORY 2 1# in alcoholism 28/05/20 This story is the Sequel to Confessions of A Queen Bee- i suggest you read that one first! But honestly i am so thankful for anyone that reads either of my stories. This story will be in Ivy Jame's point of view but it is titled Confessions of a Teenage Addict because this story will be focused on Jackson and his struggles. There may be point of view changes though!

STORY 3 If he was a tornado, she was a hurricane. The problem was though, they both loved the feel of the rain.

STORY 4 BOOK 2 of Loving November Grace Five years ago I was swept up in this storm. The storm of him. And for a beautiful second, our clouds, they collided. Our skin hydrated. Loving the way the rain felt across our nerves. The electricity, the lightning burning us. And this storm it broke and fixed me all at once. It tore down everything in it's path, destroyed walls and melted ice I thought was forever going to be inside of me, but it also nurtured my heart and I grew. I grew and I survived everything after; all the consequences of loving him. We survived. I was left with memories, and imprints that only whispered to be heard. And even they faded over the years. I wasn't ever going to see him again and that was okay. It was okay until it wasn't. Until it wasn't a reality. And he walked right into my little coffee shop. Because when two points are destined to touch, when paths are pushed together, forced to cross- There's no rule that they only cross once. If the universe wants it, it will always find a way to make the connection. Cole and I lost each other, and I thought that was fate, that is what was destined for us. It was the safest thing for us all. It still is. And that is fine. But when we did meet again, all those years later- it wasn't. Nothing at all was fine. There are so many reasons why I should have stayed away, so many reasons why that fire, that fire should have gone out by now, and nothing but ash should be left. Yet it burned. Us. Them. It was destructive and neither of us even wanted it. But. It's us. Our hearts are old friends, our skin, etched with each other's fingertips.

"When she was at her worst, he saw her at her best." Copyright © 2018 by holabxtch. All rights reserved