Story cover for She's The Dancer And He's The Badboy by Zella45
She's The Dancer And He's The Badboy
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В процессе, впервые опубликовано июн. 27, 2015
Для взрослых
I love the way my body flows to the song of music and tells a story. One I would never speak of. It holds to much pain and nobody will ever hear of my story or so I thought. I never liked the idea of people knowing anything about my past or my secrets but when I danced and it told all I couldn't care less. Unless your new to a town and a certain bad boy wants to know what your hiding. Then I get pissed.
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My name is Violet Alena Harden. I'm the quiet one next to my twin sister Summer Cathie Harden, my older brother Reece Dare Harden, and my younger brother Lance Chase Harden. I have no friends and like to keep it that way. I dance and that's something I hold precious to me, and I never think of letting anyone in, that includes my family. I haven't spoken since the incident and its a good thing they just leave me alone, like everyone else does. I guess you could say my family is well off, but that's an understatement.
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My name is Hunter Blaze Emory. I'm the schools bad boy and have every girl at my feet. I mean I guess I'm every high school girls wet dream. Not to mention there are to many sluts at this school to count. I'm never interested in the girls at school at least that was until a new family moved to this town and I have seen a beautiful, quiet, girl. 
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Hunter has been trying to get Violet to talk to him but is having no luck, until he follows her one day after school to the old dance studio that has been recently been bought by her parents. He video tapes her dance and later one shows his dance best friend when he finds some shocking information about what he video taped.

Can the bad boy help a wounded Violet? What will he do with the video? Does he have a horrible past such as she? Can they help each other?
Read on to find out.
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DIABOLIC SERIES 3 All my life I've lost my breath. It would happen over the simplest things, if I stretched too high to catch a ball, lifted something for too long, if I sneezed, if I talked. Other times I would loose my breath because I had a panic attack, or was yelling or being yelled at, if I was exerting myself on a physical level. Having the wind knocked out of me is a familiar feeling. But I didn't truly know what it felt like to loose the air in my lungs, loose the feeling that has kept my alive my entire life. I didn't loose it when I fell in love, I didn't loose it when I found out one drunken night with the girl I love would mean a baby, I didn't loose it when I found out that I'd actually be a father. No, I lost that when she told me that she doesn't love me. When she spit in my face how much she can't stand me, how I've ruined her life, that she doesn't want me in any aspect. I'm not her 'type' whatever that means, seeing as she quite willingly had sex with me. Her saying this made this ugly, lonely and depressing thought hit my diaphragm. Violet Thompson is carrying my child. And she despises me for it. The way I came to this conclusion was simple, Nonnie- -that's what I call her, since her middle name's Noel and I wanted something to call her that if I shouted it in the middle of a crowd, only she would turn to and know it's me- -told me that all she wants is someone there. A father for her baby, a physical presence. Not a mind, personality. Not a person. A body. A shell. I've been a dead man walking. And I was that shell, was just a body... until I found him.