Watch Tweek X Craig Novels & Stories

Kaira flipped open my new tablet’s cover. “Just for the record, it’s okay if you want to yell. “Why would I—” I cut off when I saw what she’d pulled up. It was a video of Craig. He was standing next to a reporter. The fact that his hair was combed told me that the interview hadn’t been a total surprise. The caption across the screen read: Friend of the Vale family.

Dawn’s POV Craig was insane. I think that was the only way to describe him. “Do you do this often?” I asked him once the plane landed. “Huh?” He turned to me. “Do you buy two spontaneous plane tickets, take a stranger on the ride and force them to introduce you to their aunt, often?” “Nah,” he said as he unbuckled and stood up. “Sometimes it’s their uncle.”

“We have been looking into Brian for the last three months and got nothing. We went through him, again and again, to see if we missed anything, yet we got nothing on him. Do you know why?” “I am sure you are kind enough to enlighten me about this.” “Because we are looking for the wrong guy. Brian isn’t our guy, it’s someone else. I got a video that I want to see you.” I walked to the table where the laptop was open with a video pausing on the screen. It was CCTV footage of a car repairing store.

She quickly grabbed her phone and began scanning the news for updates on TIG’s show. To her frustration, TIG’s launch was now trending ahead of XEG’s. “Caitlin must’ve bought the trending spot,” she muttered bitterly. Clicking into one of the top links, Zora watched the entire show unfold—stage design, model walks, behind-the-scenes highlights. Everything. Her eyes widened as she took in the designs. Weren’t they supposed to also feature *Majestic Elegance*? How… how did it all change so suddenly? Still trying to piece it together, she was interrupted when Caitlin arrived at The Marquis Room with the TIG team and several fashion elites in tow.

“Tell me something not work-related.” Ainara raised an eyebrow. “Like what?” “Like… are you seeing someone?” Ainara hesitated. “It’s complicated.” Tasha grinned. “That’s the best kind.” They laughed, and for the first time in days, Ainara felt lighter. They talked about college, travel, dream projects, and the weirdest clients they’d ever had. Then Tasha said, “We’re going home the day after tomorrow, right?” “Yup. Project’s on track. We deserve a little shopping.”

ELLA’s POV “What type of network is this?” I altered as I was switching my airplane mode on and off for the hundredth time. I have been out here for over thirty minutes, silently cursing the service providers, the hostel wifi and my own impatience. All I wanted was to d******d the new movie “A one Night Stand” that was dropped tonight. The trailer had looked steamy as hell, and I needed something to take the edge off after a long week of classes.

Craig spread the mat on the grass and sat down, he was followed by Tracy plopping beside him. "Do you often do this when you are in Ameridia?" Tracy said while she looked up at the sky. "Yes," Craig smiled as he remembered his girlfriend. Craig lay his body on the mat, looking at the star. "Your neck will hurt. Come lie down," Craig patted his arm. Tracy laid beside him and used Craig's arm as a pillow. "My girlfriend and I often watch the stars," Craig said. Tracy turned and laid on her side while facing Craig, and asked excitedly, "Do you have a girlfriend?"

He began whispering into her ear. From her body language, I knew he had told her. She froze, confused, looking at him like he had grown two horns. Tara pinched me because she was also watching them. "Oh my God, I think he's doing it. Look at her face. Camera-worthy." "Tara, you sound like a witch right now. You shouldn't be so excited about it." Tara rolled her eyes. Then Craig did the unthinkable. He went to the front of the class, banged one of the seats, and called for everyone's attention.

She’s in a tight black top stretched across her chest, with leggings that has seen better days, and her is hair packed high and stiff with product. I take in her makeup caked on like war paint—smoky eyes, red lips, contour sharp enough to cut and stifle a distasteful frown. Crysta’s gaze starts at my shoes—Italian leather, polished to a mirror shine—travels up the tailored trousers, lingers on the vintage watch peeking from my cuff, then climbs to my face. Recognition. Hunger. Calculation. All in under two seconds. “Well, hello,” she purrs. “Hi,” I keep my voice easy and light. “I’m Caiden. A friend of Rain. Can I come in?”