Story cover for Pride and Pratishness by LilMissSarcastic
Pride and Pratishness
  • WpView
    LECTURAS 8,001
  • WpVote
    Votos 249
  • WpPart
    Partes 3
  • WpHistory
    Hora 21m
  • WpView
    LECTURAS 8,001
  • WpVote
    Votos 249
  • WpPart
    Partes 3
  • WpHistory
    Hora 21m
Continúa, Has publicado nov 11, 2014
You know how they say, 'Don't judge a book by it's cover'? Well I wish that I had. 

Ever since that day when he asked me for a pencil, I have fancied the socks off of Eli Thornton.

Who could blame me? He was the picture of perfection, the resident Adonis carved by the Greek gods themselves. A medical student, motorcycle owner, leather wearing sexy beast.

But then he bloody well opened his mouth and turned out to be a right pain in the arse. Suddenly he flipped from being the highlight of my Monday morning lecture to the bane of my existence. 

Who knew that something as minor as misplacing my favorite romance book could fuel so much hate and anger. Join me on the rollercoaster that is my life as I discover that deep deep deep down beneath all that pent up anger, pride and pratishness there is a decent guy...well, maybe. 

Bring your shovel or maybe even a jackhammer because I've a feeling that we will be digging to China before we meet this so called 'Decent guy'.
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𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 "What?" I ask. He brings his hand to my face. His fingertips brush my lips. "What would you do," he says, "If I kissed you right now?" "I'd probably push you away," I say, and huff out a nervous laugh. I've never been a good liar, and Nate can probably tell because the corner of his mouth lifts into a smirk as he leans a little closer to me. "I really want to find out if that's true or not," he tells me. I'm too frozen to say anything. I'm too frozen to move or breathe, really. Nate's hand snakes around the back of my neck gently. The rings on his fingers cool my burning neck. "Relax," he whispers, and then he closes the distance between us. 𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 Nate Miller left three years ago. Packed a bag in the dead of the night, snuck out the back door, and caught the only bus out of Woodvale, his wretched town. He left Adya behind to pick up the pieces. She had to console his grandmother. She had to bury her feelings for him. She had to deal with her addict mother. And when Nate returns, everything becomes more complicated. Can they mend and repair the friendship they had? Can they handle if their friendship turns into something more? Adya isn't one to trust, not after Nate left; and Nate is cracking under the weight of his emotions. Is love too much to ask from either of them? Trigger Warning: Domestic Violence, Substance Abuse