Chapter 1

Daria

Yesterday, I found out that I have cancer. After extreme back pains, I was diagnosed with schwannoma neurofibrosarcoma, a malignant tumor in my spine. Now the asshole doctors are throwing terms in my face, thinking it will put a smile onto my lips by saying my survival rate is fifty-fifty with chemotherapy.

Well, guess what?! I can't afford it! God bless America!

Therefore, my motto right now is "Hakuna-fuck-treatment-Matata," and I even wrote a bucket list—five minutes ago inside my head! And that list is telling me to grab the first good-looking man I see and kiss him.

As if God hears my heart's desire, I witness a tall man step out of a building and head for a park bench on the street. Cars drive past, honking at him, but he doesn't give them any attention as he flips through pages.

Here is my chance!

With my veil flowing in the wind, I steer my legs forward. My heart is beating a mile per second—I can't believe I'm doing this!

This man is going to freak once he sees what I'm wearing. I'm a nun, but after finding out that I have cancer, I'm going to abandon the rules and kiss the shit out of this man.

With storm steps, I march forward with movements so stiff I could be mistaken for a marionette. Determination is simmering within me, and I tell myself repeatedly: "You can do this, Daria!"

I park my feet right in front of the stranger. He is still reading his news magazine without looking up. My heart is racing—I might have taken water above my head—this guy is the reason words like "heart-stopping" had to be invented!

My brain is telling me: "Run girl!", but my wet pants are telling me: "YOLO!"

Sitting on that park bench is a man bigger than Jason Momoa. Pro-hockey build with deep-set eyes, outlines of muscles trying to cut through his shirt, and damn, that square jaw! He is out of my league! Everything about him blows my mind and directs me to retreat.

But the bucket list is sacred.

With anticipation building within me, I rip away his news magazine and throw it on the street. Confusion hits his beautiful features, and then he frowns upon realizing what I just did. His lips part as if to yell at me—I don't care! I attack his lap like a rabies-infected animal.

My palms find his face, and surprise lit his golden eyes. His shoulders rise as if he is about to stand up, but I kiss him so hard that I'm confident we can both see stars. And what do you know, the bastard relaxes and then he kisses me back!

His tongue is warm, delicious inside my mouth. Minty peppermint tickles my throat, and I moan into his mouth, lost in sensation when his large hands press into the small of my back.

I lose myself and let my hands slip over his shoulders, breaking the rules by squeezing his taut muscles. He is so perfect. My entire body tingles when his massive hands caress my skin. I press myself further into him, not even touching the ground but straddling his thick thighs.

My partner doesn't seem to mind. He lifts me further up into his lap, allowing me access to his hair as I deepen our kiss. I run my hands through his silky black locks, and he hugs me to him obsessively, as if I'm this delicate thing in need of his protection.

I like it—I never want this moment to end.

Does every kiss feel like this one?

I'm feeling so alive with this man, enlightened. But everything sweet comes to an end—there is a massive erection threatening to escape his pants. I've never had sex and his excitement frightens me a little. I break our kiss to glance down but stop short at his face.

Shit—I recognize this man!

My widened eyes travel to the billboard behind us, and I turn colder than a turkey. A man, one identical to the one's lap I'm currently straddling, smirks back at me. He is a famous actor, Wilder Phoenix, and I slowly turn my head, meeting the amused smile of the man himself.

"Do you kiss all men like that, or am I special?" He leans closer, and the corner of his eyes crinkle with mild humor. His hands remain on my back, and I get the sense he wouldn't have it any other way. "Although, if you kiss like that, I understand if you're single—the intensity could give any man a heart attack."

"Uh..." I struggle for words and brush a strand of hair behind my ear while trying not to smile. The sheer intimacy is making me nervous, and Wilder's beauty is intimidating. "You think so?"

He broadens his smile before opening his mouth to ruin the buzzing atmosphere. "If you jump their bones at first sight too. And are those nun clothes, or am I hallucinating?"

Jump their bones at first sight too?

What the hell?

Does he think I'm a slut?

I'm a nun—this was my first kiss!

My world crashes down. I'm sure thunder is hitting houses and burning them down in the background. Wilder Phoenix just insulted me while his hand is groping my ass.

What a shitty day.

I scramble away from him, and he blinks in surprise as if, for the first time, realizing what he just said.

His eyes plead with mine, and what might be regret turns visible over his handsome features. "Shit, can I take that back and start over?"

My lips twitch at that. Wilder is charming, but I'm too offended to be persuaded. The truth is that I'm a virgin—I've dreamt about men all my life, even though it's a sin. I'm devoted to God, my faith, and the church, but if I'm dying, I might as well live a little.

Honestly, I want a soulmate.

In my reveries, my destined one magically appears on the bus. Time stops, and my heart leaps out of my throat as he smiles at me. Wedding bells toll inside my head while an imaginary choir of angels appear and sing: "Hallelujah—he is the one!"

Sadly nuns aren't allowed that kind of life, and even if I want to change my lifestyle, whoever is in charge of things gave me deadly cancer, and now, I will never have my wedding.

"No." My conflicting emotions hide behind my stern voice. Showing weakness isn't an option when you're dying. "My time is limited, and I won't waste it with men who only know how to throw insults. I'm sure you're nice but," I wink at him. "You're not the one."

Wilder gawks at me, and I walk away with satisfaction, curling my lips, proud for deciding against shoving my tongue back into his mouth. The actor guy is hot, but I won't lose my virginity to a man who acts surprised when a woman won't stand to take his bullshit.

"Hey!" Wilder is shouting at me. He seems to have recovered, and now his face is broadcasting curiosity. Poor guy—he is so famous that rejection excites him. "What is your name?"

I wave at a cab. "Bye, Wilder!"

Wilder laughs as he holds up his hand, which makes me curse like a sea captain. The taxi driver isn't going anywhere, eyes pasted to the rich man wearing a tuxedo. I can't blame him. He probably needs to feed his starving family, and I shiver when Wilder places down his massive paw on my shoulder.

"Look," Wilder speaks. "I'm sorry." When I turn around, it's like staring up at the Eiffel tower or something—he is massive. "I rarely get nervous, but I did, and what I said was stupid."

"So it was a mistake to call me easy?" I ask and then gasp when I notice he is staring at my ass. A luscious ghost of a satisfied smile strikes his lips, and he doesn't look sorry for staring once he realizes I've caught him red-handed.

"My eyes are up here." I point at my eyeballs with two fingers.

"Right, it's not like I can see much anyway when you're wearing those clothes," He smirks. "And truthfully, I'm not sorry for staring, and I wish I could promise you it wouldn't happen again, but-..."

He bites his lower lips as if saying: "damn" to my rear side, and my heart bounces into my throat.

Not good—I'm experiencing flutters!

Hurriedly, I turn around, desperate to get away from this man. I'm not allowed to sleep with men, but this guy is dangerous. He is omitting that charm that tells me I better escape before he steals my heart and I end up in the same hotel room as him.

"I have to leave," I say from the backseat of the cab, glancing up at Wilder leaning against the car. His thick arm is holding himself up while his eyes are stuck on mine.

"Oh, yeah?" Wilder challenges. "Where are you going, and when can I see you again?"

The confidence of this guy is ridiculous. I have to collect my jaw from the floor before speaking. "Are you asking me out?"

"I am most definitely asking you out."

"Oh," I blush, hating how I'm already flattered. I should stay clear of Wilder, but my heart is already skipping rope. Traitorous little thing. "Well, I'm kinda busy, and nuns aren't supposed to date."

His lips form a secretive smile as if he is in on a secret I have yet to figure out. "But they are allowed to drink coffee?"

I hesitate. "Yeah...?"

"Great! Can I have your name then?" Wilder asks, winking. "It will help me figure out your number."

I snort because I like Wilder's resolve. "Daria Withers—see if you can find me," It takes brute force to look away from his growing smile; it's infectious. "Ay, driver, let's go. Yip-yip, Geronimo."