Nous avons mis à jour nos Directives du Contenu.
Consulte les dernières directives pour continuer à partager des histoires en toute sécurité.
En savoir plus 
A Thousand Lies (crimson harbor book 3)

A Thousand Lies (crimson harbor book 3)

  • WpView
    LECTURES 432
  • WpVote
    Votes 144
  • WpPart
    Chapitres 57
WpMetadataReadTerminé mar., févr. 24, 20269 h 56 min
WpInfo
Fiction
Romance
*BOOK THREE, INTERCONNECTED SERIES, NOT A STAND ALONE* JETT- When I was in high school I lived for one thing and that was adrenaline, motorcycles, fast cars, getting in trouble with the law and putting all my time into football. Even if that meant sneaking around with the meanest girl in school. From going over to each other's houses to finish a project, from me falling for her so hard it almost cost me everything. Now I'm starting my junior at college after the most fucked up year and trying to go back to normal. Or at least I'm trying to go back to normal, but Nicole has wriggled her way back into my life. Anywhere I went, she was there, annoying me, taunting me, every time I tell myself I don't care about her anymore, but it was so hard to keep lying to myself, especially when it looked like she still did too. NICOLE- When people use to hear my name, they would practically bow in awe, now they cower in disgust thanks to my dad. In high school it might have looked like I was on top, I was a cheerleader dating the quarterback, always put together and most importantly I always looked happy. But in reality I was drowning from my crazy dad's control, taking my anger out on anyone I could, dating someone I hated and was sneaking around with his teammate because he was the only one who could made me feel like a person. But in typical Nicole Salem fashion I screwed that up, or more like I was forced to screw it up. Now I was a junior in college, the whole town of Crimson Harbor hated me, I was a working as a stripper, my dad was dead, my mom didn't talk to me and I was free from acting perfect all the time. I have friends who love me and support but yet I still feel utterly alone. But as much as I was free, there was still one person who could bend me and I would let him, Jett. He hates me that isn't a secret but if he hates me so much why was there moments where he cared?
Tous Droits Réservés
#55
dualtimeline
WpChevronRight
Rejoignez la plus grande communauté de conteursObtiens des recommandations personnalisées d'histoires, enregistre tes préférées dans ta bibliothèque, commente et vote pour développer ta communauté.
Illustration

Vous aimerez aussi

  • The Space in Between
  • His maid 18+
  • Anomalies ✔
  • The Hating Game
  • Running from the gang
  • Into the Velvet
  • The Maid (Corrupted Love #1) |��✓
  • Slow Poison
  • The Best Kept Secret!

*** New chapter every Thursday ! *** None of them meant to hurt each other. That's the part people forget about slow-burning disasters, they don't begin with betrayal. They begin with kindness. With glances held a second too long. With private jokes that start feeling more like confessions. With one moment that could have meant nothing, and instead, meant everything. They were four people who once shared everything: the same group chat, the same half-formed dreams, the same late nights on rooftops and in lecture halls, talking about who they might become. And then the lines blurred. Someone kissed someone they shouldn't have. Someone stayed silent when it mattered most. Someone joked instead of admitting what they felt. And someone kept everyone else emotionally afloat while quietly sinking. There was no fight. No scandal. Just a slow drift into emotional ambiguity, a friendship that eroded in glances, apologies, and timing that never aligned. Now, years later, they've been asked to build an art exhibit together. The theme? Memory. It's poetic, in a cruel way. They're supposed to create something honest while still pretending they've moved on. But the truth is still there, buried beneath words unsaid, under a kiss that shouldn't have happened, inside jokes that now sting, and a friendship that still aches. This isn't a love story. This is what came after. This is the space in between.

Plus d’Infos
WpActionLinkDirectives du Contenu