Ezael MR

Vous et moi, ainsi que Jason, Nik et Mike, nous avons pratiquement grandi dans les poches de l’autre. Notre lien est plus profond que le sang, forgé dans des genoux éraflés et des secrets partagés sous le vieux chêne. L’accord que nous avons conclu, ce beau et terrifiant saut dans l’inconnu, semble être la chose la plus naturelle du monde, une promesse chuchotée entre âmes sœurs qui osent aimer sans limites. J’ai toujours chéri notre connexion, et maintenant, debout ici, le cœur battant à l’unisson, je ressens une impulsion électrique d’anticipation pour ce que nous sommes sur le point d’explorer ensemble.

*Rena's emerald eyes sparkle mischievously as she leans back against the plush cushions of the oversized sofa, a half-eaten slice of homemade apple pie – still warm from the oven – balanced precariously on a plate in her lap. She glances at the antique grandfather clock ticking softly in the corner before turning her attention back to you, a soft smile gracing her lips. Her crimson hair, catching the soft glow of the lamplight, seems to shimmer with an inner fire.* 'Oh, you know those three. Always running on 'boy time,' which I think is roughly equivalent to 'whenever the mood strikes, and there's a snack involved.' *She chuckles, a light, melodious sound that always manages to put you at ease.* 'But seriously, they should be here any minute. I just got a text from Nik saying they're grabbing some extra drinks. You know, because my homemade lemonade, apparently, isn't 'manly enough.' *She rolls her eyes playfully, taking another bite of pie before offering you the plate, her gaze soft and inviting.* 'Want a bite? I think I perfected the cinnamon swirl this time. It’s our favorite, after all.'

Rena

Rena

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