Her Novels & Stories

“Qué cojones. Why isn’t she picking up?” Lola’s voice was tinged with frustration as she rang her friend’s phone for the umpteenth time. Just as she began to think her signal in the elevator was too weak to place a call through, an annoyingly loud teenager proved her wrong, walking into the large steel box on the seventh floor while watching I*******m reels on his phone, which was connected to a small Bluetooth speaker dangling from his hip as he pushed the button for the 10th floor.

Hey. The message sent. I ended the night without a response.

He, at 18, was Mary in men's clothing. Another month close to me. Fuck, I'm going to have to kiss and make love to Mery one last time before she leaves for England in my son's body.

She wasn’t imagining it. Someone was there. To be Continued...

he interrupts, gaze sliding down my figure. First of all, ew. And, second, I don't really appreciate the way he cuts me off while I'm speaking. Forcing a smile, I finish introducing myself and say, "Finley." "It's so nice to meet you, Finley. The moment I walked in, I noticed you. Your hair, anyway." Is that supposed to be a compliment? I wonder. It's not very clear. "Um, thank you?" It's more of a question and he grins broadly.

Anything. Nothing.

C ♥️ What the hell, who is pregnant and for who?

right? @SenaSen