You've got one boy. One girl. One pretty little lie. A perfect relationship. The perfect boyfriend. The perfect girlfriend. The perfect dates. The perfect gifts. And the perfect surprises. That gives you our golden couple of Sunset Westwood High. But what happens when it's all a lie? One boy. One girl who needs desperate help. One pretty little lie. That sounds more like it. When Olivia's ex is bothering her and rubbing it in her face at a party that he moved on after dumping her, she sees her nemesis, Ethan walking by and she uses him as her ploy, but the move isn't so smart when you think about it. I mean, how easy can it be acting lovey-dovey with your enemy? . . . . . ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

"Oh you will fall for me eventually." He said pressing me against the wall. "How are you so sure about that?" I asked. "Good girls always fall for the bad boys, trust me." He said smirking. His hands travelled to my waist, and then he pulled me close.

{FIRST BOOK IN 'THE GIRL IN THE HOODIE' SERIES} {2014-2018} A girl moved to California two years ago. No one knows what she looks like. All they know is that she wears a hoodie. *~*~*~* "HOLY SHIT, NOAH! WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU LET THE TROLLEY GO?! COME BACK! OH MY FUCKING LIFE, FIZZY DRINKS UP AHEAD--" BANG FIZZ POP "...am I dead?" I'm suddenly grabbed by the back of my hoodie and pulled up from the ground and out of the mess of the opened bottles of fizzy which had exploded when the trolley and I crashed into them. My hands instantly go to my hood and I sigh in relief to find that it hadn't fallen off through all of that. I turn my head and look the the employee who's holding me, his face completely red and the vein in his neck throbbing. "Wassup, dude?" I smile sheepishly. *~* {HIGHEST RANKINGS: #1 in Funny #1 in Sad And #1 in Cancer apparently }

(BEING EDITED IN PRIVATE) "No rain, no flowers." She yelled as she danced in the sand while it was pouring rain, she was absolutely beautiful. In the end, this game of love and life, always will end with death. If it's today, tomorrow, in a year, in 70. We are all meant to be utterly destroyed by the fact of death. Of the fact that love can't save you. Unless it can.