Introduction
CONTÉM TEMAS PICANTES E SEXUAIS + BDSM
Ele estava muito bravo. Ele estava me olhando como se quisesse me estuprar ou socar meu rosto.
"Eu posso expli-"
Ele me interrompe.
"Você foi muito muito má, gatinha. Você não faz ideia do que eu passei."
Ele aperta meu pescoço, sufocando minha garganta.
"Despida."
A palavra me tirou do choque elétrico. "O quê-"
"Estou contando até 3, se você não fizer, vou rasgar suas roupas - 1."
Isso está realmente acontecendo.
"2."
Eu pensei que ele fosse gay.
"3."
---------------------------------------------------
Emara, 21 anos, humana que se disfarçou de homem para conseguir um emprego em uma empresa multinacional.
Mas ela mal sabia...
1. O chefe é muito atraente.
2. Ele não é humano.
3. Ela é a sua companheira.
.
O que acontecerá quando o Lobo Mau encontrar sua Companheira?
.
Como ele reagirá ao saber que sua companheira é um cara e não uma garota?
.
O que acontecerá quando a verdade vier à tona? Quem se afogará? Quem nadará?
SEQUÊNCIA INCLUÍDA NO LIVRO!
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About Author
ALMOST PSYCHO
Chapter 1
1. Que se dane essa porcaria
Emara Stone
Tique
Taque
Tique
Taque
Já se passaram sete minutos e vinte e sete segundos desde que comecei a analisar o programa, planejando por onde começar a atravessar este livro labirinto do mal, 'Introdução ao Java'.
Mas eu não quero ser apresentada ao Java.
Eu balanço a cabeça e foco na minha nota de motivação em frente à minha mesa de estudos,
o Clarear este semestre
o Conseguir um emprego
o Fazer uma cirurgia de aumento de seios
Eu fecho os olhos e respiro fundo para acalmar minha mente... Inspire... Expire... Entrar... Sair...
Depois de alguns segundos de meditação profunda, eu jogo meus livros, notas, canetas da mesa, pois não sinto nenhum poder espiritual interior se manifestando.
"Que se dane essa porcaria." Eu chuto a mesa e levanto abruptamente, enquanto a frustração intensa toma conta de mim.
De repente, sinto um aroma rico ao meu redor, não consigo evitar dar algumas cheiradas no ar. Cheira Cheira
Panquecas.
Minhas pernas pequenas caminham rapidamente enquanto o cheiro se envolve em minha cabeça e meus botões de gosto liberam saliva em minha boca. Assim que entro na cozinha, testemunho um cara sem camisa cujos músculos dos ombros se destacam enquanto ele joga a panqueca no ar.
Sua cueca está tão baixa em seus quadris que consigo ver um quarto de suas nádegas aparecendo por cima.
O que esse pedaço de porcaria está fazendo aqui?
Isso foi a primeira coisa que me veio à mente, mas depois de vê-lo fazendo panquecas, controlo minha atitude.
"Ethan, meu irmão favorito! Eu sabia que você me amava, querido." Eu grito de excitação ao ver chocolate espalhado nas panquecas. Meu Deus! Panquecas com Nutella.
“Isto é para minha namorada que está me esperando no meu quarto...” Ethan nem se dá ao trabalho de me olhar quando responde, “Não é para você.”
Não só compartilhamos a mesma data de nascimento, mas também a atitude. Provavelmente de nossa mãe.
Eu cerro os punhos fortemente, pois sinto vontade de bater a mesma frigideira quente em seu rosto, e então fugir com as panquecas. Ninguém está acima da comida.
“Como está sua preparação indo?” Ele me pergunta. Embora Ethan seja apenas um minuto mais velho que eu, ele tem um cérebro de robô e aqui estou eu presa no sétimo semestre há um ano.
"De quem é essa mala?" Pergunto de volta ao avistar as duas malas no corredor.
"É do seu irmão favorito e de sua querida namorada, é claro." Ethan sorri. “Indo para algum lugar?” Pergunto desinteressadamente.
"Bem, vamos fazer uma viagem pela Europa para celebrar a formatura depois. Comendo algo antes disso." Ele mexe as nádegas e as panquecas enquanto pisca para mim.
Esse filho de uma biscate!
A audácia dele de piscar para mim quando ele sabe que tenho um exame amanhã, embora eu devesse me formar com ele se eu tivesse passado. Se. Eu. Tivesse. Passado.
Não sou uma completa idiota, apenas não tenho interesse em estudar e obter notas atraentes. Obter um diploma é tão comum nos dias de hoje. Bill Gates, Mark Zuckerberg, Steve Jobs ninguém tem um diploma e ainda assim contratam pessoas com diplomas de Harvard.
Não se trata de notas, trata-se de criatividade. E eu sou criativa pra caramba.
“Em, mãe novamente me mostrou a biografia de um cara que combina com você. Se até o próximo ano você não se formar ou conseguir um emprego, ela vai te forçar a se casar com aquele empresário. E eu não poderei fazer nada para impedi-la. Então, foque nos seus exames.” A voz de Ethan soa suave enquanto seus olhos mostram preocupação por mim. Ele pega a Nutella em uma mão e o prato com as panquecas na outra e sai silenciosamente.
As palavras de Ethan pareceram um beliscão afiado no meu peito. Eu não quero ser um peão em um acordo ou me casar com algum empresário chato que nem sabe posições sexuais por mais do que três.
Fico me perguntando por que ele pegou a Nutella quando já tinha espalhado nas panquecas. Espera... Ah! Eca.
Eu balanço a cabeça enquanto imagens de sua namorada Lucy coberta de Nutella dançam em minha cabeça. Suas palavras flutuam como balões de hélio em minha mente enquanto saio da cozinha sem panquecas.
Preciso conseguir um emprego. Preciso de um diploma. Mas primeiro, preciso passar.
Minhas pernas automaticamente me levam para o meu quarto. Vejo minhas roupas, livros, toalha, papéis e canetas no chão, o que torna ainda mais difícil encontrar o chão.
Eu me abaixo e pego meus livros, notas, canetas do chão e os coloco na minha mesa de estudos. Pego a cadeira e a limpo, que eu tinha chutado alguns minutos atrás, então bato minha bunda nela.
"Eu não posso desistir disso. Preciso me formar."
Eu me lembro que estou fazendo tudo isso pela minha liberdade, pelo dinheiro. Preciso passar. Preciso me formar.
E preciso comprar um pote novo de Nutella também.
Aviso: Os personagens deste livro são quase loucos, precisam de ajuda de um psiquiatra e seu estado mental está em uma dimensão diferente que não tem nada a ver com a idade deles. Não espere que se comportem sóbrios, lógicos ou maduros. Vá ler o próximo capítulo!
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Especially not her.
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Those were the actual words that broke the camel's back.
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To make me forget. To fill the silence that death left behind.
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Kissed me like I was the only thing he needed to breathe.
Then left me bleeding with six words that burned deeper than rejection ever could.
So, I ran. Away from everything that cost me pain.
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About Author
ALMOST PSYCHO
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