You can look, but you can't touch.
Trinity Reyes likes older men.
Ever since she turned 18, she's given herself the sheer pleasure of seducing every man she's deemed worthy of her time, and when Javier Rubio moves in next to her, she is delighted to...
Hi omg it feels so weird to write about characters that aren't Alison and Lorenzo, I deadass feel like I'm betraying them because I'm so attached to them. I think imma cry cause the book is almost over.
ANYWAY the book is set in Barcelona, Spain. I could definitely write all the dialogue in Spanish, but it'd be too much work because I'd have to translate every sentence in the comments, so just pretend they're always speaking Spanish, okay? Mkay.
Does anyone study at uni in Spain? Cause I don't know when they take their exams 💀 I've googled it but I can only find info about admission exams, however I'm interested in knowing when the normal exam sessions are and I can't find anything on it 😡 so again until I'll find someone who knows about it I'll just go with something similar to where I live.
For the houses, think of a concept like the one in the pic, but with more space between each house so there can be balconies on each side.
Started: July 2020 Ended: /
I love you all and thank you for reading 💖 I do kinda hate it and my brain's telling me to unpublish it and never speak of it again :)
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I am a whore. Allow me to explain: I am totally and completely against the use of such terms, for they are disgustingly misogynistic at their core— you've read that right, misogynistic, no matter how desperately you try to justify your use of them. However, I, Trinity Reyes, am what every hateful ignorant would call a whore, a huge one at that.
It has always been a part of me, but it first came to light when I started to develop, going hand in hand with my love for attention.
Ever since I can remember, I've been the prettiest girl, always the one who'd get the most chocolates and flowers on Valentine's Day, always the one who'd make every boy blush with just a smile or a glance in their direction, always the one with the most people around. After my first 14 years of life, things changed, but the dynamic remained the same: guys would flock around me, smothering me with attention; most girls would want to be my friends, while others, a small percent, would stay away and glare in distaste and annoyance at the social butterfly, the life of the party, even though I never acted superior. Some people simply stick to what they know, much to my dismay.
At 16 I got my first serious boyfriend, Esteban, an 18-year-old soccer player with whom I lost all things losable— all of them. We stayed together for 2 years, then I broke up with him the day after my 18th birthday in order to focus on who I truly wanted: older men.
I ended up having sex with his divorced father and his soccer coach, moving on to the architect who redesigned my mother's new place and my biology teacher on the day I graduated. All four of them in barely a year, and I was just getting started.
