Where There's a Will (Lost Boys, #1)

by Jessie Walker

Grief was like a fever, she said. I just had to let it run its course. Sweat it out, just sweat it out, baby.

There’s only so much time a person’s allowed to grieve before it becomes an inconvenience, I’ve come to learn.

No but for real. Its like they expect you to move on after 2-3 years, I mean, it sounds like a long time right? But grief is not something you "sweat" out. It stays with you. In your happy times, and your low times. (Like my bad for being sad for so long about their death ig…T-T)

It’s lonely, but...freeing. Loneliness is freeing. How fucking sad is that?

Extremely so.

a guy about my age with messy ash brown hair and a grease-stained t-shirt and jeans.

Does this person matter?

When he turns to pocket his wallet, my eyes catch on the silver hoop threaded through his bottom lip.

Hm

Mason.

Oh nvm its just another guy bruh prob someone Will knows

pierced and he’s got a full sleeve of ink; muscles where there were only lanky arms before, and hair a shade or two lighter than when we were kids—but I’d recognize those blue eyes anywhere. They’re so pale, they’re nearly translucent. “Mason?” I finally manage.

Uhhh??

“McAllister boy.”

THATS WAYLON OHHHH

Easy. He makes it sound so easy, when it’s anything but.

It really is. Whats not easy is allowing yourself to do it.

Cold hazel eyes glaring down at me. A curled lip sneering unforgiving words. Dark, dark hair, and pale, gaunt cheeks. The taste of blood on my tongue, bitter and sweet.

This was Waylon??

I hate it. I hate the power his name alone has over me. A monosyllabic word that should mean little to fucking nothing, but bowls me over like a goddamn freight train.

It shouldn’t matter, the knowledge that Waylon McAllister is still here, the closest he’s been to me in ten and a half years.

Welldamn

Waylon McAllister might as well be a stranger to me now, but he wasn’t always. And some part of me still feels a sense of loyalty to that boy I’d once move fucking mountains for. The boy I took it upon myself to protect, only for my actions to shoot me point-blank in the ass.

The mystery is killin meeee TELL MEEE

I tell myself this has nothing to do with Waylon. The angry boy with the black hair and green-gold eyes.

Oohh

#cantrelate

#couldneverbeme

Waylon James.

Obvious family issues if bro has two last names

I run the back of my inked arm across my forehead, shoving back some of the sweaty, dark stands that never seem to know whether they want to be curly or straight.

Tats ;) also real hair be different everyday i wake up and for what

“And you’re letting in the sun,” I grumble distractedly. He chuckles, and it’s followed by another low, raspy laugh I don’t recognize. “My bad. I forgot I’m surrounded by vampires.”

Ok bro just bc we--or I--dont like the sun dont mean we vamps bro. Way is so fr

Dirty blond, so dark in this lighting it’s almost brown. He runs his hand through it, slicking it back.

Will a hottie :P ;))

finally collide with a pair of dark blue eyes I haven’t seen in over ten years.

OOOOOO DARK BLUE???

Eyes that have haunted me for far too fucking long, and all I can think is...No. Nonononono—

Did u traumatize each other???

“Not anymore. We haven’t seen or heard from him since we were eleven years old. For all we know, he could be a fucking child rapist⁠—”

Oo…yeah

then I shall remain the coolest cucumber that ever cooled.

wow this is the greatest line in the book. You cant convince me otherwise

As if I didn’t just watch the boy who once meant everything to me—the boy I never actually let myself believe I’d see again—storm off with hardly a second glance.

A boy who is now all grown up, with toned muscles and tattoos and a sexy fucking nipple piercing that just begs for my teeth.

AYOOO?????

Isobel Montgomery

She dead aint she

“Boyfriend, actually.”

Its that Zayne guy aint it or wtv his name was

They’re not the ones who found their boyfriend swinging from a belt.

Oh

And even more unexpected? The muscles engraved into his stomach. The tattoos scrolling over his arms and spreading across his collarbone... That fucking nipple piercing.

Reallll so its Way on the cover thennn

But it was his smile.

We know, Will

one connected to each dimple sinking deeply into his cheeks.

Omgggg Way has dimples??? :3

I’m also pretty sure I spotted a tongue ring winking out when he was spewing all that venom at me. Call me a fucking masochist, but that only heightened his sex appeal.

Real

or I’d see just how far I could push him before I had him on his knees. Melting under my touch.

Bro

“You’re a drama queen, you know that?” Behind me, I hear the rustle of clothes as Ivy climbs through my window and onto the fire escape. “All dark and broody with your cigarettes under the setting sun. Head bent over a notebook. Tell me, dear cousin, are your lyrics as clichéd as you?”

HA this shit is crazy this haz to be somesort of 4th wall break

Ivaiah.”

Ways cousin

She’s a tiny thing, but she sure makes up for it in attitude.

I get it bro

Sad. I look so goddamn sad all the time. And fuck that especially. I don’t want to be sad anymore.

Yep

the top of her head probably comes no higher than my chin.

I think based on this, Waylon is taller ;P

And that’s when I see him. The drummer. Waylon.

Fits his hot headed temper ;)

See? See what you’re missing out on? Do you regret it now? I shove away the thought—the sickening anger—and focus solely on the Now. On the music. I won’t let him ruin this for me.

Regret what? Not staying in town?

But without a drummer, there’s no foundation. No heartbeat.

Speakkkkk!!!

“Hi.” Annnndddddd there goes my boxers. And probably every pair of panties in the room.

Waylon being this hot is hilarioussss ToT like bro just said "Hi"

But then, it’s over. He’s squeezing his eyes shut, and time’s speeding up, and I’m no longer the center of his fucking world. And it hurts. It hurts. How does it fucking hurt this bad?

Give him back his world :(

“This is Will. Will, this is Shawn.”

Shawn is prob a baddie too and ive seen the next books…maybe Shawn likes Mason…?

Not going to lie, the dude’s a little intimidating. Where Mason is all light and smiles, Shawn is dark and broody with coffee-bean hair and eyes to match. A fine dusting of scruff covers his chin, outlining what appears to be a perpetual frown that’s only enhanced by his deep-set brows. Mason and I are about the same height, just over six-feet. This guy’s got at least two inches on us.

Hm shawty

And with that, I leave, not missing the words spoken behind me. Following me out the door like a rabid beast—claws out and ready to strike. With my head held high, and a smile mashing my teeth, I can almost pretend they don’t shred me to pieces. “Who was that?” “Nobody.”

:(

How dare he show his face again?

Yeah! Tell him…?

He’s just another dude in a sea of dudes with decent genes and hard-earned muscles. Like Mason. Shawn. The grocer at Ray’s Market. Thor. There’s nothing special about this guy that warrants any kind of special preoccupation. None, whatsoever.

Its not the outside bro its the intimite connection youve let go dormant.

Art is a lot like a parasite. An invasion of undeniable need to share your soul with the world. To try and make the world a little better than how you found it. It consumes you to the point of desperation. Begging you to just let it out; see me, hear me.

Nice perspective

It’s the only way to quiet the voices. Our demons.

Bro i cant im sorry ToT