A Werewolf Blog in Brooklyn


September 7, 2016
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It’s been a bad week for me, I feel as though I’ve had my quota of bad luck and ugliness that the universe has decided to throw all my way. I try to shrug off the memory that’s been plaguing me all week, as I hear the crunch of a footstep on loose dirt and compact gravel. But when someone’s ingrained into your soul, its hard to let go of all that emotion.

Looking over my shoulder to see Addison Harrington, striding my way. I actually begin to smile a little. Addison’s my associate from the Manhattan Maen pack. There’s only one reason he’d be out here in the back of the Bronx. He trains at this gym so he can spar with some decent fighters. I’ve sparred with him at the gym before, from time to time, but I missed him in there today. There’s nothing better I tend to find then beating the shit out of a boxing bag to exhaust you of all your empty, angry, emotions.

“Hey man,” I greet him and turn back to my car, putting my car key into the door. “I missed you in there today.” It’s when Addison doesn’t respond that I start to turn around and look back at him. Addison isn’t the type to be deliberately rude to me. But as I look at him now, I notice something very off about him.

I can feel the pressure build up in the air. His hands are fisting, still in their boxing wraps. I drag my eyes up his form. He’s a muscular, athletic build, not too big, not skinny. Fucking perfectly proportioned. The kind of body perfection, men strive for that is depicted in those male health magazines. Me, I’m big. Thick neck, big muscles, I try to keep myself well proportioned and not work to hard on just one area. But I’m in no way perfect like Addison.

My line of sight lands on his face, he’s clenching his jaw so damn tight, the definition on his jaw line alone could cut you. Veins are pulsing under his skin, I’m trying to figure out what is wrong when I see his eyes and get it. They’ve shifted to animal’s eyes, werewolf eyes. Oh fuck. He has murderous intent in his eyes which are as angry as the deepest rage can be. It’s been a bad week and by the look of it, only getting worse. There’s a storm coming. And it’s all male anger. I have a split second, or at least it feels that way, to recognize that it’s directed at me as Addison’s arms start to pull back, tightening up as he gathers himself together.

– Excerpt from Lycan by Breukelen Girl


Biting 2013

January 4, 2013
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Werewolf Bites is the first publication  off the presses for 2013, happy new year!

A short collection of werewolf erotica for your pleasure.  Be warned adult themes! adult themes! adult themes!

If you’ve ever read my blog, you’ll understand that 🙂

Werewolf bites_cover5

A short story collection of Werewolf erotica from various pack wolves.

Doll and Luke werewolves from the Seattle Alki sort out some relationship issues, through a bit of sexual game role playing.

Lycan Booker Parish wants  his human girlfriend, Torrens Vez over his knee to discipline her at work.

Bodil Sommers finds gift giving, after a shopping spree to her pack mates,  highly pleasurable.

Jules Teehlan is an alpha werewolf from the Manhattan Maen and more than happy to do his bit for his pack when he is invted to a party where sex is played with power.

Addison Harrington finds his hands, mouth and body full when he attends a party of power and privelage on pack business.


February 19, 2012
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My 2nd Novella Perception is now available for download from Smashwords.

At the age of fourteen I was attacked by a pack of wild wolves, at the age of fifteen I found out there were wolves attacking humans in my  home town of Brooklyn.
This was the beginning of my relationship with Booker Parish. A lycan.
A big no-no in the werewolf world .  One I couldn’t resist.

Lycan La Vida Loca

May 28, 2011
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Zine #2 has been relaunched as Lycan La Vida Loca on Smashwords it can be downloaded in Kindle, Sony E-Reader, KOBi, Epub, PDF etc… Yay!I

So if you’ve only just come across my blog and you have no idea who I am or who these men I talk about on it are. Lycan La Vida Loca will explain a bit of my personal history and into the complications of my love life.

Photo by Otto Yamamotto
Cc by 2.0

A Wolf’s tail

November 30, 2010

I knock on the front door of a house, I haven’t been to in a long time. The door opens to reveal Conall Wakely, in a unbuttoned shirt, with wet hair and jeans on.

My ex, boyfriend. Never thought I’d be back here. But Conall and me, we’ve been in each other’s lives for so long now, seems slightly inevitable. Unbreakable, even.

“Well now, look who came back to me.” He says with a half smile back at me as his eyes drop and he looks me over, approvingly. I sigh and move, crossing my arms.

“Small world.” I reply trying not to take in the sight of his naked chest exposed by the loose shirt flapping around with the movement of him. “Werewolves tend to stick close to what they know.”

“So what is this then? You want to fuck around on the side, is that it? Is that why Booker was all over your ass the other night?” He asks turning around and walking back into his house. Leaving the front door open.

I sigh and walk through, following him. That’s about as nice an invitation to coming in, as I’m going to get. Considering I’m not exactly welcome.

Somewhere in that brain of his, Conall still sees me as his. I have no fucking idea why other than he’s jealous of Paris, being an Alpha werewolf, taking up position in my life with me.

“He wasn’t all over me.” I shake my head. Can’t believe I’m getting into a stupid fight with him. Some things never change. He knows how to insult me, sufficiently. How to be immaturely jealous. How to be pissy.

“I can’t believe you’d let a Lycan touch you, rather than me.” He says walking into the kitchen. “I mean, come on. We’re bruised together, I can see that, but a Lycan?” He says sticking his head in the fridge and pulling out two bottles of water and throwing one at me. “Why the hell would you let one of them, into your skin. I mean, don’t get me wrong, Booker is…”

“This isn’t about fucking.” I mutter angrily, catching the bottle of water. “And there was no groping, or fucking going on. I gather you don’t know why he was with me then the other night. That you don’t know why I’m house detained to Brooklyn for the time being?”

Conall straightens up and looks at me as he uncaps the water.

“No. Thought you’d finally seen the light and ditched the Alpha himbo. Was getting into the groove again on the south side. So, what’s it about then, if you haven’t come here to tell me you’ve ditched him, and come back to me?”

“Jesus, Conall, swallow your pride and say ‘his’ name. Paris. I’m still very much with him, thank you. This isn’t about us.” I look at my water bottle.

“But you’re not in Manhattan with Paris, and he’s not in Brooklyn with you, and you’re standing in your last boyfriend’s house with him, so what gives?”

“It’s about restoring me. It’s about being a Breukelen.” I say watching his face closely as he seems to guage my words and their conviction.

I just don’t throw my pack name around or the reputation behind it, the meaning associated with it, easily. None of us Breukelen werewolves do.

“So it’s about pack business?” He asks me seeking clarity. “Does this have something to do with Vargr, cause I was thinking about that dude and…”

“No. It’s far more personal than that. And so far up you’re alley, it’s like a natural ability for you. That’s why I need your help executing this.”

I put the bottle down on the kitchen bench top near by, watching as Conall downs a mouthful of water quickly. He wipes his mouth and smiles back at me.

“This does not mean we’re” I say waving a hand between us “Getting back together again.”

I don’t know why I’m saying this, I can practically see how it falls on deaf ears as Conall’s mouth tweaks into a smile. He thinks it means, exactly that. Like I’m speaking backwards girl code for what I really want from him.


He smirks at me. “Welcome to the beginning again,”

“More like end.” I fire at him.

“We do love to chase ourselves in circles. Chasing our own tails hey? I knew I was good for something, to you. Had something, Paris couldn’t offer you. Glad to see you come round to that way of thinking. So now,” He says leaning a hand on the bench top.

“What can I do for you babe, that your packmate can’t?”

The Werewolf Within

November 21, 2010
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My first shape shift after the attack. Well, second if you want to get technical.

The first shape shift was done after I’d been attended to when I’d been found by Paris and the boys. But it wasn’t done alone and it wasn’t easy for me. Both Paris and Addison had to help me shift. You see, shape shifting isn’t always as seamless as the movies make it seem.

When the human side of me, is under duress and trauma, the shape shift is so much harder on me than it should be. I guess you could say, it’s like I can’t quite shut down part of my brain, to let that stuff go. It’s locked in there and it’s conscious in there, when the process of shape shifting begins. And so because of the memory of whatever it is that is stressing me, it reacts through out the rest of my body. Where I hold my stresses, where I feel my injuries. So the pain factor when my shape shift kicks in and my bones begin to break, is excruciating. Like a fresh new memory that floods my mind, as my body continues to do what it must. Changing form, awkwardly.

So when I say Paris and Addison had to help me, it means, they had to calm my body down. They had to make me think, let my mind wander, to the sense of pack and werewolf. To fur and security surrounding me. There are various ways to do this, but the most common way to achieve this, so the shape shift is less, rough is by touch. I don’t mean sexually. I mean by reminding the wolf within of familiar senses. I guess you could call it frotting, if you really wanted to. We rub against each other, touch skin, rub our face over necks and chests. And the whole time we’re touching like this, we’re trying to remind our mind to seek out werewolves. To sniff the scents of those around us. Addison’s scent is a mixture of bonfire and fur.

The longer it takes for your shape shift to take hold, the worse it’s going to be. With Addison and Paris helping me, previously, it took around twenty minutes. As opposed to a smooth shape shift with Paris, that generally happens for me in two minutes. So it was bad. But I got through it, and was able to completely shape shift and hold form, once shifted.

That’s the other thing with shape shifting and trauma. If you’re too badly injured you might not be able to make it happen for you, and if you do manage to make your shape shift kick in, once in wolf form, you might not hold form, long enough to really be of any benefit to healing your wounds. It’s hard to say.

The werewolf within, has it’s own mindset. And you really only get to control it, when you’re in human form.

Sometimes it’s the opposite. The wolf knows just how to take complete care of you when you’re injured. And you’ll hold wolf form, longer than you might normally. To better your chances at recovery. Like I’ve said before, shape shifting isn’t an exact science. It just is what it is.

So Paris’s instance to Booker that he see me, to see me through my first lone shape shift, is justified. Not that Booker wouldn’t think so. He’s just trying to do the right thing by those who’ve asked it of him. He’s trying to look out for me. So is Paris. He’s come round to ensure I can shape shift without great difficulty. Cause shape shifting, when it’s not smooth, is ugly to watch, let me tell you. But worse than ugly is the agony that thrashes your body, that for at least, some of the time, you’re fully conscious of.

Paris is here, to help me forget all that stuff. To make me blank it all from my mind. To help me ease myself into a comfort zone to shape shift, because I don’t think we have enough time, to do it the other way. The way I really, like to shape shift, when I’m with him. Let’s just say, I’m still aware of where I am and that Booker, although not a werewolf, still has heightened abilities, like great hearing, because he’s a lycan. Even if he’s down the far end of the house. So I don’t want to be “noisy”.

So we touch, and we feel, and we look and we taste and I find myself getting lost in his gaze and sensing the werewolf from within, lurking close to the surface, prowling about his skin, waiting for my wolf, waiting for a shape shift and the caress of night to engulf us.

There are signs that my shape shift is on the way. My body temperature heats ups up and my skin, sweats, it’s like stage one in a varied list of how to know your shape shift is coming on. Paris’s lips kiss my collar bone and his tongue darts in the dip there, as he works his way back up to my mouth. My hungry little mouth that wants our lips to sear together, so I can lick the roof of his mouth.

Normally I guess you could say, I’d moan when I’m in the middle of foreplay with Paris, but the sounds coming out of me now, are more wolf than me. It’s not moans, it’s like low panting, rumbles of pleasure. Another sign, I’m even closer to shape shifting, if the vocal cords are going. That’s like stage eight on that varied list of signs to look out for a shape shift.

When my nose twitches and I find myself straining upwards, to sniff along Paris’s neck and shoulder blades. Inhaling the almonds and amber of him, mingling with the werewolf’s base scent of fur, it mean’s I’m just about ready to shape shift. When the mixture of his scent fills me and starts to overwhelm that brain of mine, it’s making me want to go looking for the werewolf within, him and me.

From there onwards, it doesn’t take long. My senses are all tuned towards that of the werewolf. Paris helps accelerate this process by doing small, partial shape shifts of his own, visual, sensory things to help me. So I’m staring back at wolf eyes, I’m feeling claws tapping against my skin. I’m being nipped by his wolf fangs in my flesh.

I’m hooked.

My werewolf wants out, and that part of me, that’s the girl that got attacked with a knife and silver, is fading fast to the familiar feel of reassuring strength flooding her through the werewolf within.

Pounding heart

November 19, 2010

Booker and I are laughing as we walk back into my house. The door shuts and the latch has barely clicked into place when there’s a pounding on the door.

My heart beat races, the pounding is loud and precise. Resilient in it’s restless need to get through the wooden entrance.

Booker looks at me, his face suddenly a mask of seriousness. The guy’s happiness has gone again. He’s always so serious now a days.
“Get to your room now, lock the door and don’t come out until I tell you, you can.”
“What?” I whisper fiercely back at him. “I’m not a fucking child!”
“Do it, Or I’ll drag you in there myself.” His firm reply as he stares back at me, daring me to challenge him further.

This whole safety over me thing, because of Gabby, is really beginning to annoy the hell out of me. I stomp off to my room but loiter in the doorway.

Booker looks back at the front door.

“Let me see her!”

I could be mistaken, but through the thickness of the door, the muffled voice sounds like Paris.

“Open up!”

Booker looks back down the hallway towards me and indicates for me to get inside my room like a good little werewolf.

“It’s Paris, let him in.” I step out of my doorway. Booker’s hand is on the front door handle, but he’s looking at me.
“He’s not coming in here.”
I step right out into the hallway. “Yes he is. Let him in here Booker, he’s my packmate!”
“You know what my orders are from Bodil, she finds out I let him in here, we’re both history.”
“I can handle Bodil.”
“No, you really can’t.” Booker throws back at me, as Paris keeps thumping against the door. Demanding to see me. “Trust me, when I say, you don’t want to either. Just get out of sight for now.”
“Booker, so help me, if you do not open that door and let Paris in here, I’m never ever speaking to you or acknowledging your existence ever again in this pack. Open the door!”

Booker’s eyes widen as he stares back at me and he drops his hand away from the door handle. Of course, threatening an Alpha, even an Alpha lycan like him, is always a bad, bad move.

Of course, you might not consider it much of a threat, what I threw at him. Except, to Booker and to me, those words are still a pretty big deal. Neither one of us wants to not know the other. Not that we’d say it out loud. Even if we’re not together anymore. Not that anyone outside of the hallway or in our pack knows that. Not my over protective sister and best friend to Booker and not my packmate Paris, Booker’s old friend.

Booker and I were a rather passionate secret.

I start walking towards him and he reaches for the door suddenly, unlocking it. Paris pushes on the open door and straight into Booker. Looking past him towards me.

He shoves the other male aside, not easily but successfully all the same and rushes towards me.

“You can’t be here man.” He says as Paris stops before me.
“I tried to contact you, you’re sister and her possee, they intercept me, cut me off from getting to you. What’d they take lessons in how to sabatoage and block?”
“You can’t be here, if Bodil finds out you’re here…”
Paris turns around abruptly fast. The move of the angry wolf, whipping around to deal with it’s common enemy. Annoyance.

“I need to be here. It’s lunar week, she’s got to shape shift. We don’t know how she’ll be affected after…what happened.”
I reach for Paris’s hand and stand beside him, looking back at Booker.
“It’s my house, he’s staying.”
“I’ve got my orders.” Booker replies firmly, scowling back at us.
“Booker if he goes, then I’m going with him.”

His frown gets deeper.
“The hell you are.”

Paris’s body tenses at Booker’s words. I don’t want to see these two fight, especially over me. “My orders were to keep you safe, not leave you alone.”
“Well then, you fulfilled your orders. I’m safe, and I’ve got two Alpha’s with me. What could possibly be safer than that in my own house?”
“Look, Bodil will be swinging by here,” He glances at his watch and back at us. “In an hour to check on you. If she finds Paris here, all hell will break loose and I’m not going to be able to stop her.”
I nod my head in understanding.

“You can’t stay.” Booker says looking Paris in the eyes. They stare each other down without blinking. I can’t help but wonder if they’re passing some sort of silent message to each other. Or if it’s just anger. Or in seeing which Alpha wolf will back down first.

“You got forty minutes.” Booker says walking off into the other end of the house. “And then I’ll kick you out myself.”

I ignore the unhappiness and anger in Booker’s voice and turn away from the sight of him marching off into the opposite end of the house. He’s either trying to give us privacy, as wolves, even lycans have exceptional hearing, or restrain himself.

Paris and I walk back towards my bedroom and I finally close the door when we’re both inside. My heart is pounding as I look back at him and move towards him quickly.

But he puts his hands out and keeps me at bay.
“We don’t need to rush this.” He says and scoops me up, walking me over to my bed.

“uh hello, time limit.” I mutter back at him as he lays me down.

“Well, I don’t want to rush this.” He replies, leaning over me and tugging at my top.

Lead you astray.

August 30, 2009
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Conall and me are going through some weird patch of I don’t know what at the moment .

So what do I do? I choose the easy way out and pretend like everything is normal. And I start going a little insane in the process. Building up my own version of events my very imaginative mind.
A bad thing to do.
Paranoia and Jealousy over the unknown.
Talk about a downfall if ever there was one.

I was at Hotel Le Bleu on saturday night, I actually went there with my girlfriends, needing to get my head trip away from all consuming mental thought of Conall.

I ran into my sister’s friend Booker and his friend Paris. Aimee’s eyes lit up instantly. I felt like patting her on the head and saying, down girl, down, put your tongue back in your mouth. But both males are good looking.

Booker’s got a girlfriend and Paris is quite beautiful with his dark hair and midnight blue eyes. Jeans that moulded to his sculpted butt, outline what one imagines was very hard, rock hard, shapely thighs.

I started…watching, I mean, really, watching, certain parts of his body. Like the way his mouth moved. The way his hands gestured. Aimee should have knocked sense into me. But she was probably too busy drooling over Paris also. Especially when I was staring at the way his tongue darted out and around his mouth. It was momentary but it was obvious I’m sure. Guess that’s what Booker laughed at as he gave me a look. That probably said “poor girl, he’s so out of your league.”

So anyway, this little thing I had with Paris. I mean, I was doing to Paris. Well you know…not doing but, imagining, and indulging. The looking but not touching, the talking to him but pretending I wasn’t flirting. The keeping a distance from him that was socially acceptable even when it looked like he was moving in slightly closer to me at times.

I believe this is what’s called stupidity, temptation, or danger or all of the above.

I mean, he was just being nice and talking to me for the first time. Had no idea what was going on in my one-track mind.

Most people say fantasizing is harmless. But when you’re in the wrong frame of mind to start with, I doubt that’s the case. So just as I’m thinking, I really need to calm my body down and possibly find a quiet place for some “me” time, who should turn up at the rooftop bar, but Conall Wakely.
Boyfriend of the hour.

Turns out he’d rung Janie and asked if she knew where I was cause he kept getting my voicemail. I’d decided to leave my mobile at home. Didn’t want to turn into a nightmare who calls her boyfriend when she’s drunk and says all manner of shit she shouldn’t.

He saw Paris and Booker first and spoke to them first, and then my mind kicked into overdrive. I started watching Conall and Paris talking together, and thinking boy-girl-boy. Girl-boy-boy. How hot would that be?

Paris is a werewolf too, from the Manhattan Maen pack. So then I start thinking, about this fact, three werewolves together. We’re all highly sexed, and we’re all highly capable of taking a lot of rough and tumble. I’m thinking sensations heightened threefold….Lunar week could wreck me if this were to be the case.

Ah fantasy, it seriously just sneaks up on you doesn’t it? Leads you astray and into areas you never thought to go.

I shook my head, wondering how I went from paranoid girl to sexual beast girl.

Told you things get topsy-turvey when there’re not normal before Lunar week starts up. Conflicting the two halves of myself, a bit like common sense and sensuality battling one another, want versus control. And then some.

Maybe the human side of me has a stronger need for love and affection than I’ve ever given it credit for. I focus so much on the werewolf and keeping all that is her at bay, sometimes it’s easy to forget there’s more to me than that.

I headed off to the ladies room, and that’s where Conall caught up with me. Pushed me into a stall, locked it behind us. I didn’t even hear him sneak up behind me. Didn’t sense him, because I wasn’t paying attention. So wrapt up in my own thoughts on things.

He shot me a cheeky grin and flitting glances, quickly up and down my body. He didn’t say a word. Because he was suddenly too busy lunging at me and sucking my earlobe before his lips made their way to my neck and around to the hollow of my collar bone.

I would’ve liked to moan.

But he put a hand across my mouth and pressed it down.

I had to be a good girl.

Okay maybe we were getting back on track again. Returning to normal for the wild mix of our relationship.

He dropped down before me and let his hand go from my mouth. Trusting me to keep my noises silent.

My head hit the stall wall a few times as I opened my mouth and refrained from noise. Do you know how much control is involved in silence when your body is raging with sensation?

A heatwave rose in my stomach. A fire that burned a path inside my gut, making me blood aflame with nothing but his name on my brain.

I think I started to sink, my knees literally started turning inward, but he pushed back against them. Holding me upright, letting me feel the strength of his hands on me. Keeping me standing.

Where he wanted me.
How he wanted me.

I don’t know how long we were there. I just know we were there and we were making up for some sort of lost time, and apology and that we are better than alright, now.

men trouble

June 22, 2009
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Must be a thing in our family, the women having men trouble.

Let’s see theirs Annabeth, Dad’s love interest and partner for the last thirty or so years.  They met one another some time after my sister Bodil’s mother died.

Annabeth and dad adopted me. So Annabeth’s the only mother I’ve ever known. Which is fine by me, she’s a great mother, and a wonderful woman.

But growing up was weird in our house.

I mean it’s still an odd arrangement that somehow works and that we’ve all gotten used too.

Annabeth lives separately to us.  Totally independent from dad.  Weirder still, is that dad and Annabeth have a child together, the youngest of us all, Joss. He lives with Annabeth.

Yet she helped dad raise, Markus and Aksel and my sister Bodil.  I can see how we might look like a complex family.  But I think it’s only logistics that make it so rather than heritage and parentage.

Annabeth and dad have never married.

I have no idea why.

All us kids like to guess that Annabeth lives separately in her own place to teach my dad a lesson or something. We like to rag on him and keep telling him to produce the goods, a big, chunky shiny rocking ring, which usually elicits a serious growl of disapproval from him.

So this is where I think the men trouble in our family starts.

Then if you go down the line in terms of females and men trouble,  Bodil and her issues would come next.

She doesn’t get involved with guys all that often, sorry let me correct that, relationships, she doesn’t get involved with all that often.  I’m not sure when she started having her troubles.

It’s always been either, commitment phobic or totally overload the plate with what you want, with her.

She IS the girlfriend from hell.  Seems to me like she’s always like this, doesn’t seem like there’s never anyone who doesn’t want to know her on some level.

But that’s the thing about Bodil.

She attracts people to her, she’s one of those types of people that seem to radiate a certain energy that drawers people in.  Maybe that’s part of the trouble with her. After all, she has a close knit circle of friends, half of them male and I’m fairly certain at some point in time she’s dated or made out with each of them.

Well maybe not Gabe.

And I’m not sure about Booker either, but he is hot, so why wouldn’t you?

Unless he’s got a girlfriend, which I’m not sure about.  Come to think of it, I don’t really know all that much about her friends.

Only Nick and Boden I guess.

They’re always hanging around wherever Bodil is, when ever a pow-wow is called.

Which is where I suspect the trouble comes in.

Boden’s been Bodil’s childhood friend. They grew up together, have known each other their whole lives.  So you’d think that maybe they’d be more like brother and sister than boyfriend and girlfriend.  They act cool around each other. But half the time I think they’re putting on a show for one another and holding back.

I don’t know why.

Boden’s a great guy, understands lore, understands my sister, worships the ground she walks on and it doesn’t hurt that he’s fine eye candy either.

Might be because of Nick.

I think back in the day of long past now, Nick and Bodil might have dated for awhile. They’re not together now, but they’re still friends, so you have to assume the break-up wasn’t so terrible.

Unless they’re pretending.

Which now that I think about, seems like my sister and her friends maybe do that, a lot with one another.  You observe them enough, you pick up on stuff.

But I’m not one to talk either. Except, I guess through this blog – LOL!

As if figuring out “men” wasn’t enough, then add  another one and you get my problems, with Aaron versus Conall.  Sounds like a new reality TV show doesn’t it?

I’ve kind of got a crush on Aaron. I met him through a different group of mutual friends than my regular friends and every time I see him, I think we get a little closer, get to know each other a little better.

Which is nice and kind of scary at the same time.

Enter Conall.

We’ve known each other for a few years and we’ve been known to hook up. Most of my friends are Conall’s friends. Half the time I think I’m only accepted because I’m with Conall. He doesn’t like Aaron. Says I shouldn’t date him. NOT that I’m dating him!

Hell I haven’t even kissed him yet! Talk about jumping the gun!


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