Novels by miguelfransisco09

Melina’s POVI stared at him like he’d just suggested we rob a bank together using only plastic spoons and pure delusion.“I’m sorry,” I said slowly, “I think the tequila is still rotting my brain, because it sounded like you just asked me to be your ‘girlfriend’.”Jace didn’t blink. “Fake girlfriend. Sixty days. Strict contract. We sell it so hard the entire campus, the brand sponsors, and Tristan’s fragile ego all buy it.”I laughed. It came out sharp and a little hysterical. “Oh, fantastic. Because the last time I trusted a guy with my heart, he was balls-deep in my best friend on our anniversary. And this is clearly the perfect time to enter a legally binding performance of romance with his mortal enemy?”“It’s not about hearts,” Jace said, voice low and steady. “It’s about optics. Your scholarship board wants you clean. My sponsors want me stable. Tristan wants both of us ruined. We give the world a love story so loud they can’t hear the scandal anymore.”I paced the length of my

Melina’s POVI stood frozen on the sidewalk, my eyes darting between the pillars of the administration building I had just narrowly escaped and the tinted windows of Jace Hamilton’s aggressively villain-esque black sports car. My brain, currently functioning on two hours of sleep and the fumes of yesterday’s tequila, flashed a giant neon warning sign. 'Danger. Abort mission.' The scholarship board had just threatened to sever my financial lifeline for being a “manipulative instigator,” and here was the reigning king of athletic drama idling by the curb like an incredibly handsome incredibly pissed-off getaway driver.“No thanks,” I told the rolled-down window, slapping a painfully bright fake smile onto my face. “I think I’m just going to walk. Get some fresh air. Maybe reflect on my terrible life choices. You know how it is.”I pivoted on my heel, entirely prepared to sprint if necessary.Jace simply pressed his very angry foot down on the gas pedal and the engine roared in a deafe

Melina’s POVMy thumb hovered over the glowing screen for a fraction of a second before I forced myself to tap the notification and.. Bam..! There it was. Displayed in glorious unforgiving high-definition for the entire student body to see.It was a photograph of me. I looked like a completely disheveled hot mess, basically drowning in a massive dark hockey jersey with the number ten proudly plastered across the back. I was captured mid-stride, slipping out of the glass doors of Jace Hamilton’s luxury high-rise building with my ruined white dress crumpled in one hand and my heels dangling from the other. The morning sunlight was hitting my face just right, highlighting the smeared mascara and the chaos of my hair.I didn't even look like a college student. I looked like a casualty but the picture wasn't the worst part. The headline hovering right above it was the real kick to the teeth.''TRASHING THE RIVAL: Did Melina Townley Dump Tristan McGreggor for a Taste of Celebrity Puck?''M

Melina’s POVThe kiss was a terrible idea. Honestly on a scale of one to invading Russia in the winter.. this was right up there. But tequila makes you brave. Tequila makes you look at a 6'4“ block of hostile hockey-playing muscle and think, 'Yeah, I can absolutely climb that.'Jace went completely rigid against my mouth. For a second, I legitimately thought he was going to pick me up and throw me out the penthouse window. Instead, his hands clamped down on my shoulders and he pushed me back. It wasn't rough but it was firm enough to get the point across.“Melina, stop,” he growled, his chest heaving slightly under his jacket. His icy blue eyes were wide, looking at me like I was an unexploded bomb sitting in his foyer.Rejection? Oh, hell no. The alcohol, the exhaustion and the heartbreak formed a lethal deeply petty cocktail in my brain. I scoffed, slapping his hands away from my shoulders and crossing my arms over my stained, ruined dress.“Wow, okay. My bad,” I spat, my voice drip

Melina’s POVNothing could compared to the wet slapping sound from the room at the end of the hall.'Slap. Slap. Slap.'And the moans.. oh.. the moans sounded like a dying walrus trying to sing opera.I cringed, recoiling against the ugly floral wallpaper of the frat house hallway. Look, I know what happens at college parties.. I wasn't born yesterday. Hormones rage, beer flows and suddenly people think a twin bed covered in empty solo cups is the height of romance. But I really didn’t want to be the resident peeping Tom today. I just wanted to find my boyfriend. Today was our anniversary. One whole year of me ignoring red flags because he had nice hair and a charming smile. I even wore the classy white dress he liked so cue the applause for the supportive girlfriend trying to pull off a surprise visit.The bedroom door was carelessly left ajar, an open invitation for trauma. I tried to just walk past, eyes glued to the floor but human curiosity is a sick twisted thing. My eyes flick