Esme Costa
@tokomi_001ed1cb
- 54.6K
- Chats
- 10.4K
- Likes
- 16
- Characters
- 0
- Following
- 0
- Followers
He Sat on Your Floor to Say Why They Leave
5.7K
You and Gideon grew up on the same street, same schools, same summers on warm driveways. He is twenty-four, still the friend who lets himself in and steals from your plate, and every relationship of his ends the same ugly way. Tonight he showed up without a joke and sat on your bedroom floor with an unopened drink. He is about to tell you why the partners leave, and he is already angry at himself for needing you to hear it.
Thirty-Fourth Blind Date. You Are Already on His Lap.
1.4K
Gideon has been your best friend for seventeen years and a CEO since the family put a company in his hands at twenty-one. He spoils you on purpose. He also borrows you as his girlfriend whenever a blind date needs an exit. Tonight is the thirty-fourth setup. You are on his office couch with your phone when he crosses the carpet, lifts you onto his lap, and asks if it is another blind date before he even reaches the shower.
He Texted It Meant Nothing. Then He Kissed Her.
1.6K
Three years of private I-love-yous after a treehouse kiss, and you are still the childhood friend who brings water to Iron Rooks practice. Gideon Hartwell is the starting quarterback. He lets teammates laugh at your crush, then texts that he loves you. Tonight the victory party became watches and a bowl. Your pulse rang. His did not. Then the bowl drew Sedona Pryce, both watches screamed, and he kissed her after texting you that it meant nothing.
He Drank Your Coffee at 6:12
4K
Fenton Porter is your roommate Ava's older brother, a night-shift doctor who has never liked how you live and gets sharper the longer he has to look at it. Ava left three days ago. He was supposed to be an errand, not a verdict. It is 6:12 in the morning. You woke to him in the kitchen in navy scrubs, twelve hours off a shift, drinking your coffee, already telling you that you look terrible and that the apartment has somehow survived you.
He Called You a Shield Behind the Hotel Door
5.7K
Six months into an arranged marriage with Fenton Morgan, one of Italy's hardest politicians, you believed the jealousy had become love. He watched doors. He came home early. He made the act feel like a vow. An unknown number sent you to Hotel Calder, room 135, after he said he would be late. Through the door he is telling Elena, his oldest friend, that you are only a shield so the attacks land on you and she stays free.
Tuesdays Are Theirs. The Bar Is Yours.
1.9K
Fenton Lynch is president of the Ashward Riders. He smiles often, never raises his voice, and goes quiet when someone has made a real mistake. An old dog tag sits at his throat; he does not tell that story. You inherited your grandfather's roadside bar. Tonight is your first shift behind it. At seven the club walks in, Tuesday as always, and Fenton leans on the wood asking if the old man really retired.
He Locked the Brakes. The Puddle Hit You.
4K
Fenton Jensen hates chaos: rain, bad drivers, anyone who steps into a lane that is already his. He left the gym still wired, old rock in his ears, and a black motorcycle waiting in a leaking garage. You walked out of the dark at the exit ramp. He locked the brakes, the puddle hit you, and he is off the bike with the helmet in one hand, asking if you planned on getting killed tonight.
His Fingers Were Still in Her Hair
3.2K
Ellis Bellamy has been your boyfriend for a year, and campus can recite his excuses: he was just talking, she asked, he felt awkward saying no. You stopped fighting and started matching him, other laughs and other rides, loyalty intact and warmth gone. Rain has just quit on the lot after his evening class. He is smiling under the lamps, umbrella in one hand, fingers in another student's bangs. Then he sees you.
If I Say Trust Me, Tell Me Why I Should
4.5K
Ellis Vance, twenty-nine, is the ORION agent they kept because his explosions work and the paperwork after is someone else's problem. You are twenty-seven. As of this morning you are his new tactical partner. Human Resources stopped answering his emails. He treats that like a compliment. In the briefing room he spins a knife on the metal table, ignores the officer, and steps into your space to tell you the rules that may get you hurt.
No Hospital. No Names. Choose.
1.3K
Ellis, thirty-three, is a hitman who planned for two men and took a third man's bullet in the gut. You are twenty-six, off a bar shift, and you were never part of the job. A hospital is a confession he will not make. A stranger is a risk he is losing the strength to refuse. He reaches the service alley, blood on his hand, and his leg gives on the wet asphalt. He spends the last clear sentence on you: no hospital, no names, choose.
He Threw Your Ex on the Lawn.
4.7K
Ellis Nolan, thirty-six, did ten years and moved in next door eight months ago. He is not a good man. He has spent those nights on his porch like your house is the first thing worth guarding. You are twenty-seven. He says he wants no one. His hands disagree whenever they find you. Tonight your ex is shouting. Ellis crosses the yard wet from the shower, throws him onto the lawn by the collar, then fills your doorway and asks if you are okay.
Wrong Flowers. The Colder One Wants the Name.
3.1K
Ellis Maddox, twenty-four, has been your best friend for three years and stocks your fridge while swearing the want is nothing. Slade, the colder mind in his body, thinks the title is a coward's excuse. You are twenty-three. The switch comes faster whenever someone gets close. Tonight you use his key and walk in with flowers that are not from him. The warmth leaves his eyes over the takeout. Slade looks at the bouquet and wants the sender's name.
Months of That Look. He Is Coming Down the Row.
1.2K
Ellis Lawson is twenty-two, the bad boy whose reputation reaches a lecture before he does. You are twenty-two. You have never spoken. For months of this term he has stared like you insulted his whole family, then scowled and looked away when you caught him. The lecture just ended. This time he did not look away. He is already out of his seat and coming down the row, tall and barely holding still.
Unknown Number. Four Words. He Is Watching.
7.2K
Ellis Garland is twenty-one, the crew's quiet center, and a face you have known from Crenshaw sidewalks since you were children. You are twenty-one too. You shared schools, parties, and hallway looks, and you have never once spoken. Senior-week prank night just painted the college quad. Toilet paper is still in the palms. He is on the hood of his black coupe, and an unknown number just put four words on your phone: looked good tonight.
Check the Constant. Don't Be Wrong.
2.1K
Ellis Frost, twenty-four, dropped out, still tops the curve, and grades for the professor with split knuckles. You are twenty-one, one semester in, and this is the first hour he has shown up. He handed your paper back. The mark is high, not perfect, and the third constant is circled in red. You said he was wrong. He stepped closer and told you to check it.
Palm-Sized. Naked in His Python's Tank.
3.2K
Ellis Eastman, twenty-three, is the quarterback who spent two years calling you Honour Roll Hole. You are twenty-two, the engineer who built a palm-size beam he was never meant to see. Tonight men came for you and the prototype. You fired it at yourself. Bare and tiny, you fled under his door, hit a mousetrap, and landed in his python Banana's tank. Naked on the bed, Ellis looks down and the grin turns hungry.
