[Currently being rewritten and updated chapter by chapter]
Book One in the "Hard Love" series.
It's hard being knocked down. And it's even harder getting back up.
Thalia Carter grew up on the south side of Chicago with a dead-beat dad and never real...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"You're an ass, you know that?"
"You love my ass, don't lie!"
"That doesn't mean I want you to behave like one!" Zoe shrieks from the other room. If she thought by going down the hall we wouldn't hear them, then there's a loose screw somewhere in her head, because she's wailing like a banshee and forcing us all to suffer through it. "Seriously, what was going through your head?"
"I didn't ask for them," Nate replies exasperatedly. He sounds seconds away from pulling his hair out. That's how anyone feels arguing with Zoe. "She just sent them!"
"Oh yeah? And what did you do to make her think, 'oh, I think Nate would appreciate a nice surprise shot of my tits?'"
"Nothing!" he insists, although he was probably flirting whether he realizes is it or not. Sometimes my friends don't know when to turn it off. Then again, neither do I.
"Dear God, please make it stop," Oliver groans, laying his head down on Thalia's shoulder from where they sit together in the large sectional of my living room. Thalia rests her head on top of his, nodding in agreement.
An ugly prickly feeling fills my chest. I wish I could do that so casually with her. Even sitting that close would make her skittish because of our complicated relationship that she's convincing herself doesn't exist. But Oliver can do whatever the fuck he wants because she's one of the three girls in our school that he's not trying to get in the pants of.
Fallon notices their contact too, her eyes flashing with pain. That's been happening quite a bit lately whenever Oliver's doing his thing with another girl. I'm not sure anyone else has noticed, and I'm not about to rat her out, but her feelings definitely complicate things for their friendship.
I've always had an inkling that she's interested in him, but she's done a good job of hiding it from everyone else. It speaks volumes to Oliver's understanding of women that he hasn't noticed, considering how much time they spend together. He stays over at her house more than mine.
But lately the two have been at odds more often than not, bickering like an old married couple who's sex life died out decades ago. I'm sure if they hooked up things would get better, and then exponentially worse. Plus, pretty sure Fallon's still holding her V-card, and Oliver would probably balk at that kind of pressure–he usually doesn't mess around with virgins on account that feelings are ten times more likely to get caught in the mix. And he would never mess around with Fallon, period, unless there was a deeper connotation to it.
Which, like my sister, seems to be his worst fear.
"Should somebody go stop them from killing each other?" Thalia asks warily, the corners of her lips drawing back tightly.
"And get caught in the crossfire?" Fallon looks less than thrilled about that idea. Oliver pales, as if trying to mediate the psychotic non-couple couple down the hall makes him physically ill. Pussy.
