Romans & histoires Buat

back. *****

Finishing the job. ****😑****

let me know in the comment box. Byee❤️😻

Halting in front of a house finished with pale yellow siding and a white front door, Dana said, "Welcome to your new home." Staring up at the cute bungalow, Bailey couldn't help but fall in love with it. Of course, it would need a few feminine touches, like white shutters to frame the pair of windows and some flower beds to break the plainness of the front lawn, but all in all, it was picture-book perfect. So of course, she burst into tears. Sobbing noisily, she let Dana lead her inside and seat her on a massive leather couch. "Oh crap. What's wrong? What did I do?" Dana seemed at a loss as she patted Bailey on the back.

Gym, great. Gym class with a bunch of werewolves and vampires. What could go wrong?

Ken stood up and walked towards the fire place. He pressed a button and out came a small drawer. He picked out a cigarette, lighted it using the lit fire place. “Where is she?” Ken questioned, facing the roof, exhaling a cloud of smoke. “I’m sorry boss.” Ben pleaded, going on his knees. “She…she got away, I’m sorry boss.” Ben stammered. “You’re sorry?” Ken questioned, facing him and giving Ben a harsh look. Ken turned backing him, “you know I have zero tolerance for failures but as a close and trusted friend I forgive you." He spoke, his cigarette in his mouth, hands backwards.

I rocked forward on my seat, placing my hand on Triston's knee. It was as if I had shot him, his eyes peeled open staring at me. His voice showed his annoyance. Maybe to others it was out of his drowsiness, but I knew better. It was my touch. "What?" "They are serving us lunch while we refuel. What would you like?" Triston readjusted in his seat, "What do you have?" He asked the attendent, who repeated the menu to him. He thought for a moment, "I will have the bolognese." Triston rubbed the sleep from his eyes. The attendent left them,

I immediately saved her number. Me: yeah sure. unknown: 9th XXX drive. I looked at the weather app on my phone to check if it was too cold to go, we were smack dab in the middle of October and if it was too cold then sorry. It was 56 degrees outside, I guess it wasn't too cold. Me: kk.

I shrug. “Okay, I like her.” she points to me and looks at Rhea. “I’m Veronica by the way. Veronica Ryan. Grade B.” “Grade?” I raise a brow, confused. “A Grade basically tells how dangerous a person is. And before you ask, the difference between A’s and B’s is that A’s have committed murder.” “But mine is asterisked?” “It’s never been given before but I’m guessing it means numerous counts of murder.” Yeah. That makes sense.