Eight Dates Novels & Stories

" Finally, I turned around. I looked at the broken man kneeling before me—hollow, wasted, nothing like the person he used to be—and I laughed bitterly. "Dan, do you know how many days I begged you? Twenty-eight. "The doctor called you himself. He told you her condition was critical. He told you there was no more time. "And what were you doing? You were enjoying the ocean with Valerie and Theo. Chasing the Northern Lights. Checking off one wish after another for someone else's son.

I was going to update yesterday but forgot :3 My finals are starting on the 29th, and I don't know what to do. Wish me luck. The next update will be here soon. Give your hearts Daisy Chaseley

The seventh birthday falls on a Thursday in November. Again. Always. Ethan's framework, now in its eighth year of revision, holds with complete consistency: Thursdays are the arrival day. Not the day things matter — that is Tuesday — but the day things that will matter arrive. He presented this distinction to Valentina in September with the formality of a researcher presenting a finding he is confident in. She accepted it without endorsing it officially, which is also consistent.

Sarah called him, only to be told, "You can go home first. I still have work to do." Holding the phone, Sarah tried to hide her sadness, asking, "Charles, do you know what day it is today? "What do you mean, what day is it today? September 1st, Teachers' Day? No, Teachers' Day is on October 1st. The Mid-Autumn Festival? No, it's not. The Mid-Autumn Festival is in a weeks' time. What day is it today, then?" Understanding that he had completely forgotten, Sarah was heartbroken and said, "Nothing. You are so busy, and I won't disturb you anymore." After hanging up the phone, she went home alone.

I stood frozen in the doorway, staring at the ruins of what I had carefully decorated. Henry had come running, kicked aside the broken decorations and balloons, and hugged Alice tightly, whispering for her not to hurt herself. He didn’t even notice the lettering on the fallen signboard that read: “Happy 3rd Anniversary.” That’s right. Today was our third mate bond anniversary. However, just like the past three years, the celebration was nothing but a joke. Henry and I had bonded as mates and broken it eight times throughout our three-year relationship. The last time we re-bonded was only a month ago.

The elders in the family are big on good omens, insisting we pick a nice date for the wedding for good luck. But after a fortune teller proposes nine potential wedding dates, Edward Colton turns every single one down. It's the tenth time now. Edward shakes his head yet again. I gaze at his handsome face and blurt out, "I think this date is perfect." Edward is busy scrolling through messages in his group chat, not even bothering to glance up at me. "This date won't work. Jolene and the others just mentioned they want to go to Hallibay for vacation. Turn down your mom's suggestion." I curl my fingers tight. His eyes remain fixed on his phone screen, as if he has endless conversations to t

I hum along to the melody and start singing as I think about what the schedule is like these next 5 days. We have this technology seminar today, the family dinner, a business meeting and a couple days off in between. My mind is going a million miles a minute thinking about outfits, how to make Colt look the best in front of other Alphas and businessmen, how sexy he looks. Stop it, Layne. Back on track. Formal, casual, dressy casual. Smoky eyes, curly hair. I wanted to try this cute low bun for one of his events. How fucking hot it was when he pinned me against the car. Goddess damn it.

Paul also noticed this, but in his defense, it was normal. The September End Fest will be starting on 28th and ending on the 30th. Three-day time of the festive atmosphere will be a hustle, that's why most people at this time were busy, same goes to Paul and Seri who will be performing on the 30th for the final event of the festival. While busy checking all the pieces of equipment, only the sound of the guitar's strings was vibrating throughout the room. Creak! Step.

Lucas grabbed Emma’s hand and they began walking. “Where’s Ben want us to meet him?” Emma asked. Lucas quickly responded, “Burger Queen.” His strides were long but Emma didn’t have trouble keeping up. Walking wasn’t unusual for them and their line of work, although Lucas did have a car that he loved dearly. It was a pristine, quantum grey, fully loaded, 2018 Audi S8 with only 45,000 miles. He liked keeping the mileage low, it was a vintage after all. “Only two more blocks.”

I walked past him, close enough to catch whatever expensive, understated thing he wore instead of cologne, and told myself that noticing it meant nothing. The elevator ride down was quiet. I watched the floor numbers change and thought about the folder sitting on August's desk, my signature drying somewhere inside it. Nine pages. A start date. A rule about sex that he'd written down like it needed writing down, which probably meant he'd thought about it more than he wanted me to know. Tomorrow night I was going on my first date with August Belcourt. Fake date. Obviously. The distinction suddenly seemed considerably more important than it had six hours ago and considerably harder to hold onto