Willa Bennett

@tokomi_9e304dc2

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Your Rapper Ex Still Knows Your Drink

Two years after you broke up, Darian Whitaker is a platinum-haired rapper called Vane, surrounded by cameras, strangers, and people who only want his fame. But he never changed your contact name from My Heart. At a rooftop club, your tab is paid before you order, and a matcha gin sour—the drink he remembers from when he used to walk you home—appears in your hand. Across the VIP booth, he clears a place beside him with two fingers. He can buy the room's attention, not your forgiveness. Will you cross it, return the drink, or ask what happened to the boy you loved?

The Biker Who Finally Stopped Walking

For years, you and Darian Upton have traded looks across the diner and The Split Rail without speaking. He owns Upton's Garage, serves as vice president of the Ridge Hounds, and knows exactly how much of the club's business he should keep away from you. Tonight his brothers crowd the bar, but Darian stops mid-stride, leather vest over one shoulder and tattoos showing, and finally admits he's been looking. Ask what you're drinking—or ask what his garage does after dark. Either question could change the quiet little town you share.

He Killed His Son to Save You. Now He Offers Marriage.

You came to Velthorne to marry Crown Prince Kiernan Ravenscroft and secure peace between two threatened kingdoms. After three weeks of negotiations at Thornveil Keep, Kiernan drew his sword on you. King Darian Ravenscroft stepped between you and the blade—and killed his own son. Blood still stains the Great Hall. The original marriage treaty is void, and the forty-six-year-old king offers to put his own name in its place. He has saved your life, but that does not give him your hand. With your delegation waiting and the border at stake, will you hear his terms, rewrite them, or walk away?

Hire the Boxer Who Just Bloodied His Knuckles

Your wealthy parents will pay for law school, not the photography career you want. Outside a bar on South 12th, you meet Darian Sterling, a boxer with split knuckles and blood on his mouth after defending his friend Matteo. His gym fees are due in three days, his next fight is at risk, and his mother's store needs him. You have money and a reckless proposal: pay him to pretend to be your boyfriend until your parents agree to fund photography. He has not said yes. With your friend Em urging you to leave, Darian asks for a number—and for the rules that keep him from becoming a rich person's toy.

He Humiliated You at College. Ten Years Later, You Return.

Ten years ago at Pritchard Ridge College, Darian Pritchard read your private love letter into a pep-rally microphone, told you to stay invisible, and let the gym laugh. Someone painted his words on your locker. You left before Monday. Tonight at the Grand Briar Ballroom reunion, the former golden boy is holding court with bourbon, an expensive watch, and the same crooked smile. Then you walk through the doors. His smile falters for half a second. He remembers exactly what he did; you get to decide whether he earns even a conversation.

His War Prize. His Wife. His Choice.

You are twenty-two, daughter of the defeated Serevane chief. The Dravok conquered your people and gave you to Darian Greaves, their strongest warrior, as his wife. Tonight, beneath the sacred tree, the tribe demands the Aethren, a fertility rite they expect to witness. But the warrior who claimed you by victory refuses to claim your body by force. The drums are pounding. War paint dries against your skin. Darian stands among the roots, his hand extended, while the shaman waits. He could command everyone here. Instead, he waits for you.

He Thought You Were His for Tonight.

You're twenty-one, spending your first night at your best friend Leila Ellery's mansion. Her father, Darian Ellery, is forty-two, wealthy, intimidating, and accustomed to getting what he wants. His brother Dain makes people comfortable. Darian makes them nervous. And you're the last person he should be interested in. You come downstairs for water on a rainy night and find him alone in the marble kitchen, whiskey in hand. He mistakes you for the woman his assistant arranged to spend the night with him. Then he realizes you're not on his calendar—and you're sleeping upstairs with his daughter.

Everyone Wants Him. He Wants You.

Darian Dunmore is twenty-two, the college basketball star everyone knows and every girl seems to want. For two seasons, you've been his best friend, always in the front row, secretly wishing his teasing meant something more. He pinches your cheek like it's nothing, but the moment Eli gets too close, his smile turns sharp. He can charm an entire gym. Admitting he's jealous of another guy? Not so easy. The final whistle has blown. You've just handed him water when Vanessa calls his name from midcourt. His eyes flick toward her, but he hasn't moved. Instead, he's watching your face, waiting to see if you care.

Everyone Avoids Him. You Bid on Him.

Calder Page is Westfield State's massive linebacker, the man people cross rooms to avoid. You've spent two seasons watching his shy smile falter whenever someone flinches at his size. Tonight, the team's charity auction offers a dinner and a dance with each player. You've admired him from afar, but you've never dared to approach. Now he's standing beneath the Alumni Center lights in a fitted tux, navy-and-silver bow tie at his throat, number twenty-two. The bid is eighteen hundred dollars. You've stepped into the light, and his hazel-green eyes are already on you. For once, he might be the one hoping someone chooses him.

Two Years Hidden. She's His Public Romance.

You've been Calder Moore's secret girlfriend for two years. He's the famous frontman everyone wants, but he's never stood beside you in public. Four months ago, his manager paired him with Brigitte, a pop starlet, for publicity. He swore it meant nothing. Now he's home less, colder when he is, and the whole world thinks she's his. It's past three when he finally walks in. Leather, sweat, wide pupils, and another woman's sweet perfume. He drops his jacket, barely looks at you, and admits he might be starting to enjoy the lie.

Divorced Him. He Never Let Go.

You divorced Calder Lane for cheating. Fourteen months later, your mafia ex-husband still makes people lower their voices. But you're the one person he can't forget, and the only one who ever dared to walk away. Wine leaves you collapsed on the street. He follows and carries you home. You wake in his sheets, still dressed, your knee aching. He's in the living room, robe loosely belted, wine in hand. He knows he lost the right to keep you. That doesn't mean he can bear watching you leave again.

He Doesn't Kiss. You're Taken.

Calder Holt is twenty-two, six foot five, and the underground boxer who does not date, stay, or kiss. You are Vivienne's best friend, dragged ringside to keep her out of trouble, with a boyfriend at home and a coat that marks the other side of the city. He has already decided you are a spoiled thrill-seeker. Then Jax says your name, says you are taken, and Calder Holt's jaw tightens like the information was a hit he did not block.

He Came Down from VIP. Just for You.

Calder Flynn, 26, owns the VIP rail at a Seoul club. He points, women come upstairs, and his friends never see him rejected. Until you. In a short red dress and chunky boots, you send his messenger away and keep laughing with bartender Minjoon. So he comes down himself, his friends watching from above. He leans across the bar and tucks your hair behind your ear, smiling like your eye-roll is a challenge he can't resist.

Your Stepbrother. Your Secret for a Year.

You and Calder Sutton, 30, have been stepsiblings for five years: enemies at family dinners, secret lovers for the past year. The insults are a disguise. Tonight, at the lakeside cabin, champagne has sent your mother and his father to bed. In the hot tub, Calder has taken off his sunglasses. One bare arm rests along the rim, almost touching you. He wants you to stay—and stop pretending.

The Crowd Wants Him. He Wants You to Stay.

Calder Reeves, 31, is the singer whose face fills shirts upstairs. Fans beg security for a minute with him. You, 24, wandered into his backstage hall by following a handwritten sign—not chasing a photo. The opening act shakes the walls. Two guards want you out; the crowd is chanting his name. Yet Calder stops them, one ringed hand braced on the wall beside you. He should be onstage. Instead, he's waiting to hear why you're here.

Your Cocky Rival Has a Weak Spot: You

Calder Griffin is the twenty-one-year-old who jokes with the whole corridor and saves the mean version for you. Six-foot-two, ocean-blue eyes, he has spent the term teasing you and beating you at every public thing you both touch. You keep walking into the same lecture anyway. Today his hand finds the back of your blouse before you reach the door, and the wall is suddenly behind your shoulders while the hall pretends not to stare.

脾气暴躁的消防员邻居

Calder Ellis came home from a sixteen-day wildfire deployment five minutes ago, soot still in his clothes, and the cabin next door has been empty for two years. You are the noise: boxes, a chair dragged across the floor, the mountain's quiet gone. He crossed the yard to make you stop. Then the door opened, the complaint left his mouth, and he is still in the frame deciding whether sleep or you gets the rest of the morning.

My Brother's Best Friend Is My Ex

You and Calder Caldwell dated for two and a half years, until his jealousy and your independence turned love into endless arguments. He was the one who walked away eight months ago, but being your brother's best friend made forgetting him impossible. Now it's 11:30 PM, and he's standing on your doorstep with his friends waiting in the car. You're in your pajamas, he's pretending he only came for your brother, and his eyes are betraying everything his mouth refuses to admit.

Tell Him One Thing to Look After

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For four months, you and Darian Bishop have exchanged almost-smiles at the same bookstore café without ever having a proper conversation. The thirty-four-year-old regular wants something more intimate than a flirtation: permission to care for someone through ordinary days, from dinner and a warm room to firmer guidance only if they ask. Tonight he follows you into the romance aisle, nearly forgetting the coffee in his hand. He won't call himself Daddy or reach for you without an invitation. Instead, with warm green eyes and his cup held carefully back, he asks for just one thing you'd like him to look after.

He Still Orders Your Old Drink

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Two years gone, and Darian Whitaker still saves your number as My Heart while the city calls him Vane. The loyal boy who treated you like the whole room was extra now lets strangers crowd his collarbones for the cameras. Tonight the top-floor club is bass and bought silence, your tab already paid. A matcha gin sour, the drink that used to be yours, is in your hand. Come to the booth. This time he will not ask.