WE LITERALLY JUST HIT 5K READS ON THIS BOOK IN 15 FUGGIN DAYS Y'ALL, I'M DEAD 😭😭💙💙
From the bottom of my heart, thank you for reading, for loving these characters and this story!! I freaking LOVE all your comments (obviously, as I pretty much respond to every single one and probably annoy you with all the notifs LOL so I apologize, I'm just geeking out that people are actually loving this as much as I do!💕 Fr tho, if you want me to stop, just let me know hahaha XD).
As a thank you for being so incredible, encouraging and supportive, AND for 5k reads, I busted my ass to get this next chapter ready for you! So, ENJOY and remember, ILYSM🧡
I dart through Jayce's house as fast as my high-heeled feet will carry me, looking for a place to escape and hide my tears.
Passing dozens of drunk teenagers, I finally find my way into a small room in a far, quiet corner of the house. I duck inside and close the door behind me, making sure to lock it. The second it's closed, tears spill out of my eyes. I can't even stop them, they just flow out with complete disregard to me trying to get them under control.
I feel so fucking dumb, and suddenly much more sober.
Of course he has a girlfriend, and of course it's Layla. I should've known when I saw them at the ball. My stomach clenches as I wonder if Jayce made up all the shit he said on the porch, just to see if it would finally get me to sleep with him.
His reputation would certainly lead me to assume something like that.
I know it's silly to cry over boys, which is why I've never let myself get attached to one before... And yet, somehow, this guy I barely know has me in tears, and it seriosuly sucks.
I guess I had been dumb enough to believe that he wasn't what everyone says about him, that he was better somehow.
After several minutes of feeling sorry for my drunk ass, I wipe my eyes and take in the room I'm currently standing in.
It's small and even though the lights are on, it's still dimly lit. On the wall to my right, there are floating shelves, full of camera bodies and lenses. The other walls are covered in overlapping, beautiful spray paint graffiti. In the far corner, there seems to be a small darkroom setup for developing photos.
I move to a table that's littered in photographs and glance over them. They're stunning. They're a diverse mix of sprawling landscape shots, artistic images of commonplace items and stunning portraits of men and women alike that look like they belong in Vogue.
There's a curious vibe in every single photograph, like the photographer had never seen anything more lovely and noteworthy than what was in front of their lens when they snapped the image.
I begin sifting through the photos, wanting to see more. Each is as magnificent as the last, every photo somehow managing to tell an entire story. Underneath, I come across several first place photography award certificates.
They're all awarded to Jayce Solis.
What? Jayce is into photography?
I never could have guessed that one. The annoying part is, his pictures are really fucking good.
"Fallon!" I hear Jayce suddenly shout from the other side of the door as he wiggles the door-handle. "Open up, I need to talk to you."
My jaw clenches at his voice, anger coursing through me. "Don't you have someone to be with, Jayce?"
"Please," he pleads, sounding rather desperate. "You have to let me explain."
"I don't have to do a damn thing!" I shout, my hands clenching into fists. "Just answer this question," I yell, yanking the door open and glaring at him with every ounce of distaste that I can muster. "Did you ask Layla to be your girlfriend?"
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The Senior Bad Boy | ✔️
Teen Fiction"My intentions would be simple," he says with a deep, heated gaze, his warm breath fanning across my face. He slowly moves himself even closer to me so that our bodies are mere millimeters away from touching, causing breathing to become a chore. "M...
