LOGINWendy McNaulty never expected her twenties to look like this—sharing a quirky Boston townhouse with her two best friends, juggling a job she doesn’t love, and navigating a love life that’s as messy as the city’s winter slush. With Grady, her charming and overly confident roommate, and Scott, the quiet and steady best friend who knows her better than anyone, Wendy’s life is a whirlwind of late-night pizza runs, laughter, and unspoken tension. When a disastrous breakup pushes her to “figure herself out,” Wendy vows to swear off romance and focus on herself—only to find love and scandal showing up where she least expects it. As lines blur between friendship and something deeper, Wendy is forced to confront her own heart. Torn between the thrill of the new and the comfort of what’s always been, she begins to unravel feelings she’s kept buried for years. But just when she thinks she has it all figured out, an unexpected twist threatens to change everything. In the midst of secrets, mistakes, and the kind of vulnerability she’s always avoided, Wendy learns that true love doesn’t always come in the form you expect—it’s often been standing right beside you all along.
View MoreWe got back from the market and Grady was in a shit mood after Wendy cock blocked. So he was going to pout for a bit upstairs. No doubt dialing through other options in his roster to fill his Saturday night. Wendy was running off to start getting ready for her date - if that’s what she’s calling it. Normally I would go and sit in the lounge upstairs and relax but since Grady was in a mood I went a jumped on Wendys bed and clicked on her TV to bother her while she was getting ready. “So what’s this guys name?” I called out over the noise of her hair dryer. The hair dryer clicked off for a second and she paused. “Uhhh Duke… Forrester… or something like that?” She said from the cracked door of her bathroom. “Fucking Duke….” I said to myself under my breath with a smirk. Just as I said it, I caught a whiff of her pillow I was lying on. I loved laying in her bed she had such a girl smell. Lavender and fresh linens. All of her laundry smelled the s
Me being who I am I walked away. Fast. I’m a literal and figurative track star. Run Wendy. Run from your issues. That’s healthy right. You’re fast who cares. His loud footsteps got louder and started to overpower my thoughts. Is he running? “Hey! Hey wait up!” I heard in a very deep sultry voice. Fuck… I stopped in my tracks and slowly spun to see that he was quickly closing the distance between us. As he got within normal conversation distance he said “I’m sorry, but when a girl like you smiles at me, I can’t just let you walk away without knowing your name.” he said in a laughing tone. “Hi sorry, you looked busy, my name is Wendy.” “Wendy, huh? That’s not a name you hear very often anymore. It’s very pretty. My name’s Duke. Duke Forester.” “Nice to meet you Duke… and Thanks, my parents are old.” Then I shook his hand like we were closing some kind of business deal followed by a slight pause. What the fuck was that? My parents are old? “Oh ok
I managed to find my way back to Grady and of course he was talking to a girl. It was never the same with him and this girl was in a crop top, jenco looking jeans, an orange bandana around her forehead like a headband, loose wavy brownish blonde hair, two full arm sleeves and while I couldn’t actually smell her I knew she smelled like hemp. I got closer and her eyes darted at me as if to warn me to stay away. So naturally out of spite I put my arms around Grady’s waist and gently hugged him from behind. I got close enough in range to smell her and confirm that yep she definitely smelled like hemp. I could even see her pierced nipples playing peekaboo through her very thin cropped tank. I then lovingly said to Grady “There you are baby, I’ve been looking all over for you.” The girl was not impressed and pretty much stopped listening immediately and just turned and left. Grady turned and gave me a poisonous look. “You’re a fuck Wendy you know that?” “She sme
As they walked in, I got the usual greeting: “Fuck you for making us look like shit, Wendy.” Now fully awake, I smirked and shot back, “Maybe you guys should start waking up at 5 a.m. if you want a chance at keeping up with me.” A few more muttered “Fuck you’s followed as they trudged upstairs to shower. After they cleared upstairs, I too hopped in the shower, letting the hot water wash away the morning run. Afterward, as I stepped out of the bathroom, and checked my phone and noticed a missed call from my dad. Mark McNaulty—a mountain of a man. Growing up, he held me to the highest standards, whether in sports, academics, or social status. Perfection wasn’t just encouraged; it was expected. Anything less was an unspoken disappointment. But oddly, I never blamed him for it. Never resented him. He was doing his best, overcompensating after my mom left us—for the bottle, for a Rockefeller lifestyle, for a revolving door of men. He played the












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