my car as I sat in
traffic. I sighed.
At least I could afford my
favorite pair of heels. I gazed down at my sparkling red designer
heels that winked up at me from the gas pedal and smiled to myself. I know
it's vain of me to run out and purchase a pair of Jimmy Choo shoes
with my first big paycheck, but they really did make me happy. I
promised myself a lavish gift for my first accomplishment, and
Jimmy Choos were on my bucket list. I wasn't exceptionally poor
growing up, but designer clothing wasn't the first thing my parents
were thinking about when we were shopping. A sharp honk from behind me
jolted me out of my fantasy, and I focused my attention
back on the road.
After another ten minutes
lulled by, I made it to my little piece of comfort that had been my
apartment for the past two years. I scurried up the stairs as
quickly as my heels would allow and crashed through the door to be
greeted by the scent of lavender and honey. I locked myself in and
took to the kitchen where I bustled about preparing a chicken salad
to munch on while relaxing in front of the TV. When I was finished,
I sunk into the cushions of my bohemian couch and kicked off my
heels, a motion which immediately caused a groan of relief. I
tossed my head back to relish the moment. The motion alone made me miss
having someone to intimately touch me right after coming home from
work. I almost ached at the thought.
Being so busy in LA was like
a plague for single women that kept us from wandering into the sea
of normal , single men. It wasn't like I didn't have plenty of chances
– my phone frequently blew up with requests for dinner or drinks –
but it was the delivery that was so off-putting. Since the majority
of the city was overwhelmed by shifters, I was going to have a hard
time finding a regular guy to go on a date with. Associating
predominantly with this particular race of humanoids wouldn't help
either. What was a poor, single girl to do?
I pushed all of my lonely thoughts
out of my head and turned on the TV to be met with the usual daily
LA News spill. Some big whoever was coming into town, and this new billionaire
scandal was happening, and what's-that-family got into trouble
with the law again – it never ended. I wondered if these people
ever got tired of being so rich and popular . Didn't it ever get annoying? I
mindlessly flipped through channels before settling on HBO for
whatever movie they were airing.
As I began to get lost in the
drone of the TV, my phone buzzed from my purse. I glanced over at
the counter where my purse was located and decided to let it ring.
I was off work now. No one should be bothering me. I continued to
nibble on bits of chicken from my salad as my phone buzzed again,
the persistent vibration posing a dangerous threat to my sanity. I
conceded and rose from the couch to see who was calling.
Incoming Call: Maya
I smiled. Maya was a pest at
times, but she was one of my closest friends. She had a vivacious
personality that could capture anyone's attention, laughter that
could serenade a man's soul, and a carefree attitude that could
hold parties together for days. She once took me to a bonfire at
the beach that was exclusively celebrity producers and actors who
shifted skins between the shadows. Firelight danced across the sand
in waves, nearly mimicking the echo of the ocean behind us. I could
hear growls and the crack of bones within close proximity. It made
me nauseous.
That's when I first met Zack
Rider.
He emerged from the dark
brush a ways away from the guests and gracefully pawed at the sand with
his feet while buttoning his shirt, appearing too preoccupied to
approach the rest of the party just yet. His eyes wandered over
each face, occasionally
pausing with a look of recognition before a drunken
voice called for him from the other side of the fire. A smile
crossed his lips as he jogged over to meet his admirers. As he
moved, I watched his form stretch and compress beneath the white
silk shirt, my
traffic. I sighed.
At least I could afford my
favorite pair of heels. I gazed down at my sparkling red designer
heels that winked up at me from the gas pedal and smiled to myself. I know
it's vain of me to run out and purchase a pair of Jimmy Choo shoes
with my first big paycheck, but they really did make me happy. I
promised myself a lavish gift for my first accomplishment, and
Jimmy Choos were on my bucket list. I wasn't exceptionally poor
growing up, but designer clothing wasn't the first thing my parents
were thinking about when we were shopping. A sharp honk from behind me
jolted me out of my fantasy, and I focused my attention
back on the road.
After another ten minutes
lulled by, I made it to my little piece of comfort that had been my
apartment for the past two years. I scurried up the stairs as
quickly as my heels would allow and crashed through the door to be
greeted by the scent of lavender and honey. I locked myself in and
took to the kitchen where I bustled about preparing a chicken salad
to munch on while relaxing in front of the TV. When I was finished,
I sunk into the cushions of my bohemian couch and kicked off my
heels, a motion which immediately caused a groan of relief. I
tossed my head back to relish the moment. The motion alone made me miss
having someone to intimately touch me right after coming home from
work. I almost ached at the thought.
Being so busy in LA was like
a plague for single women that kept us from wandering into the sea
of normal , single men. It wasn't like I didn't have plenty of chances
– my phone frequently blew up with requests for dinner or drinks –
but it was the delivery that was so off-putting. Since the majority
of the city was overwhelmed by shifters, I was going to have a hard
time finding a regular guy to go on a date with. Associating
predominantly with this particular race of humanoids wouldn't help
either. What was a poor, single girl to do?
I pushed all of my lonely thoughts
out of my head and turned on the TV to be met with the usual daily
LA News spill. Some big whoever was coming into town, and this new billionaire
scandal was happening, and what's-that-family got into trouble
with the law again – it never ended. I wondered if these people
ever got tired of being so rich and popular . Didn't it ever get annoying? I
mindlessly flipped through channels before settling on HBO for
whatever movie they were airing.
As I began to get lost in the
drone of the TV, my phone buzzed from my purse. I glanced over at
the counter where my purse was located and decided to let it ring.
I was off work now. No one should be bothering me. I continued to
nibble on bits of chicken from my salad as my phone buzzed again,
the persistent vibration posing a dangerous threat to my sanity. I
conceded and rose from the couch to see who was calling.
Incoming Call: Maya
I smiled. Maya was a pest at
times, but she was one of my closest friends. She had a vivacious
personality that could capture anyone's attention, laughter that
could serenade a man's soul, and a carefree attitude that could
hold parties together for days. She once took me to a bonfire at
the beach that was exclusively celebrity producers and actors who
shifted skins between the shadows. Firelight danced across the sand
in waves, nearly mimicking the echo of the ocean behind us. I could
hear growls and the crack of bones within close proximity. It made
me nauseous.
That's when I first met Zack
Rider.
He emerged from the dark
brush a ways away from the guests and gracefully pawed at the sand with
his feet while buttoning his shirt, appearing too preoccupied to
approach the rest of the party just yet. His eyes wandered over
each face, occasionally
pausing with a look of recognition before a drunken
voice called for him from the other side of the fire. A smile
crossed his lips as he jogged over to meet his admirers. As he
moved, I watched his form stretch and compress beneath the white
silk shirt, my
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