Simplemente Amigos Novels & Stories

"Welcome to the city." "Thank you, it is very kind of you to meet us. I know you had your doubts, but we wanted to assure you of some things in person, as well as to discuss some other things," The woman again speaks. "That is correct; we wanted to assure you that we won't seek for your species as well as the other fantastic ones to be released to the world, we respect your decision on that matter," The tall one speaks and I just quietly listen and nod. Their voices carry a strange accent, one that doesn't seem to belong anywhere in particular. "My name is Amrafel, and this is my Asteria, my mate. Her name is Caliope…" He introduces themselves.

“Do either of you gentlemen speak Spanish?” “No comprendo, friend-o,” Clutch replied. I cut in. “Aw, man. That was a missed opportunity right there. You know amigo is Spanish for friend, right?” I asked Clutch. “So?” “So…you could have said, “No comprendo, amigo,” and it still would have rhymed.”

I bite my lip and try to think of the perfect mate. "She is special if she puts up with you". Brian laughs and Liam joins him. My best friends are so immature. Smiling in satisfaction I lay my head back and think of my mate.

She could see him clearly now, and for some reason, he had his dimples only on one cheek. "Calm down, love. You literally loved my body just last night." Logan said, the smirk on his face still plastered firmly. He didn't touch the blanket. Becky's cheeks flustered hot. She wasn't much of a lady who visited bars and slept with random guys. Three months now and she thought she would have gotten over her ex lover, but no. Instead, she missed him more. His warm embrace and soothing relaxing talks. When her friend, Mel had advised her to have fun, it took her a while to understand just what the word 'fun' meant to Mel. "I'm leaving." She announced the moment she finally got a hold of the dress a

"Friends. Just friends." Atasha "Just friends" is the biggest lie Khalia Salvador has ever told herself. Forty minutes later, the atmosphere inside Wildflour Uptown was loud, buzzing, and completely claustrophobic. The restaurant was packed with the usual corporate crowd, but our table felt like the epicenter of a localized storm system. Bea and Mark, our friends who had watched us grow from broke architecture students into functioning adults, were already three cocktails deep. They had practically pulled us into the booth, forcing Khalia and me to sit right next to each other on the plush leather banquette.