Not So Imaginary Friend Novels & Stories

He was still not over his little crush. Me. ***********

And there, tucked into her shoulder, is Maya—my best friend—the same woman who once declared that “platonic cuddling is a scam invented by virgins.” A little part of me wants to back out and pretend I didn’t see this. But the bigger part? Oh, it’s standing here like I just walked into an episode of a soap opera where they forgot to cue the dramatic music. There’s a movie playing in the background and when I turn to look at the screen, of all things, I find familiar little blue people from ‘The Smurfs’ staring back at me. I can’t help the soft snort that escapes me. Out of all the ways I imagined finding my best friend, this is not one of them.

That afternoon, Serena's phone wouldn't stop buzzing. Unknown numbers. Nonstop calls. Her screen lit up with message after message—vile, cruel, endless. She could handle the hate. Barely. But what cut deeper? Her studio was getting dragged with her. Angry users swarmed the company's page: [Fire the homewrecker! What are you waiting for?] [Only trash studios hire mistresses—hope you crash and burn.] [Serena Saun better get on her knees and apologize to Maggie Cheape!]

he said, and something in his expression shifted slightly, the recalibration completing itself into something that was not quite the neutral assessment he had started with. Sofia picked up her bag. "Your friend needs to stop making everything into a performance." "Your friend needs to stop treating every interaction like a competition she has to win." "She's working on it." "So is he," Noah said. "Slower. But he's working on it." Sofia looked at him for a moment. "You actually believe that." "I wouldn't say it if I didn't." She considered this. Noah Ellis did not seem like someone who said things he didn't mean, which put him in a small and specific category of people she had time for, and s

On my wedding day, I had just stepped onto the aisle when a ripple of laughter spread through the crowd. "Take it all off, and she's got a body on her! Look at her face, like she's enjoying it!" I turned toward the voices and saw my ex-husband's photos of me blown up across the giant screen. They kept changing, one after another, explicit and impossible to ignore. All around the room, phones were already coming up as people started taking pictures. My hands began to shake. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my mother collapse. Behind Leon Coleman, Allison Fleming slapped her thigh and raised her voice, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Oh, wow. Leon showed these to the guys yesterda

Lucy leaned toward Michael's ear and whispered, "Looks like you don't need special powers to turn someone into a sex slave." "Um," Cherry said, her voice meek and unassuming, "I was thinking. There's a place I know of, a friend of mine told me about it. I've wanted to go there for a while, but I've never had someone I thought I could go there with. W-we could go there." "Sounds... interesting," Michael said. "Let's try it."

I hesitated for a fraction of a second, my thumb hovering over the screen, before I finally forced myself to unlock it. The screen immediately exploded with notifications. My battery was almost dead from the sheer volume of alerts. There were dozens of missed calls, endless text messages from numbers I didn't even recognize, and countless notifications from the university forum app. My lips tightened into a thin, straight line as I skimmed through it all. Predictably, there wasn't a single message from Damon. Not a word. No apology for the brutal slap that was still throbbing against my jawline, and no explanation for handing over my private life to his girlfriend. He had completely discarde

I just want him. Maybe that’s why people think I’m weird, awkward and not normal. Until Damian, I’d never fantasized about a man before. I was still a kid when I started university. While everyone around me was partying, drinking, and hooking up in dorm rooms, my bedtime was 9:00 p.m. I haven’t gone to school with kids my age since I was nine. I never had close friends around me. Even Gabby and Vincent; our friendship mostly existed through texts, FaceTime, and the occasional phone call. We barely saw each other in person.

Your faithfully, The Friend

“I’m going to need professional help to remove this mental image.” She pats my wrist, mock-sympathetic. “Don’t tell me you didn’t wonder. You saw how he turned her to jello.” “You are appalling,” I tell her. “Look at us,” she murmurs, the smallest laugh in it. “No tragedy. No fireworks. Just… us. Again.” “Don’t jinx it,” I say lightly. If friendship is the road back to us… if there even is a road… it’s the only road I trust.