God of Fury (Legacy of Gods, #5)

by Rina Kent

So I might have been messaging Brandon on IG. You know, because I’m a goddamn pest like that. He didn’t answer them. For three days. My text were along the lines of: It’s me ;) Nikolai, in case the handle didn’t give me away. Wanna hang out? Like friends? Ok, that was a lie. Being friends wouldn’t work since you’re such a delight to be around. All standoffish and grumpy and shit. The exact opposite of fun. We could have a drink? *GIF of a bored kid tapping the table* We can do this all day, Prince Charming. Love talking to your inbox. What a fucking thrill. Why do you always use the same hashtag? Is there a meaning behind that? Why do you play lacrosse? Can you send me your playlists that you listen to all the time? Not really into rock, but I love discovering new music. Also, isn’t rock too extreme for your prim-and-proper image? Not that I’m judging. I actually dig the contradiction. Kinda makes it fun to try and figure you out. Why did you want to become an artist? Aren’t you too uptight to be into something that requires people to let go of their creativity? Or are you different when painting? Please tell me you do that half naked. It’s blasphemous to hide beautiful bodies, you know. Want to exchange numbers? Here’s mine XXXXXXXX. Hello, lotus flower’s inbox, lovely to see you again this evening. You looked hot today. Not that I’m hitting on you or anything since you’re sooo straight. Let’s consider this my hopeless one-sided crush on a straight guy. You don’t have to ...