***Doomsday Love***

we were ten, he treated me like a friend.

When we
were eighteen, he wanted nothing to do with me.

And now
that we are twenty-two, he longs to claim every single inch of me.

He was

And I, a
reckless girl, who loved too hard.

But, what
we had was special.

I was his
serenity and he my protector.

Drake was
consumed by my love…

but he
also took advantage of it…

broken my heart–left me hanging for years.

He ruined

And, now,
he’s back.

He wants

And I
want to hate him, I really do.

But, who
am I kidding?

No one
can deny Drake Davenport.

You can’t
hide from the almighty DOOMSDAY.

he is a fighter.

And, just
like me, he loves hard.

He never
loses and he will fight as hard as he can if it means winning me back.

I rushed for my car, unlocking it
with the key fob on the way. 
Before I could pull the door handle and get
inside, I heard the 
crunching of gravel and then a hand came down on the
slamming my door closed.
I gasped as
the same hand wrapped round my arm and 
squeezed it with slight pressure. He
whirled me around and 
pressed my back against the cold door. 
Bold green
eyes focused on mine, pink lips so close I felt my belly
 swirling with heat.
His hands went outside my head, pressing 
on the car.
He smelled
good, so good, sweet pine, sweet earth. His jaw was 
locked, hair on his
forehead, breathing deeply through his 
“I’m trying
to fucking save you from me, Jenny.”
“I don’t
need you to save me from you.” My breathing 
accelerated with his.
“Why the
hell do you need to be friends with a guy like me 
I shrugged.
“I don’t know. I guess I don’t have to. I just… want 
Sighing, he
brought one hand down, roughly running it over his 
face. He was aggravated with
me, frustrated, but like me, he 
couldn’t let go. He hated being away.
“What is it
that you want, huh?” he bit through clenched teeth. 
“What is it, Jenny? You
want me to talk sweet to you? Is that it? 
You want me to tell you some bullshit
about how I’m actually a 
good guy deep down, how I secretly wish to be with you
but my life won’t allow it—our lives, wont allow it?” 
questions were rhetorical, but they spoke to me. There was 
truth behind them.
He was opening up and he didn’t even realize
his face straightened, and he moved in closer, pressing
 his crotch into my
belly. I stilled when his hands came to my face
 and he clasped it, keeping my
eyes on his. 
shallow, I watched as his eyes narrowed. He studied me 
like a piece of artwork,
like I was some intricate masterpiece
 that no one could figure out. The kind of
masterpiece that is too
 beautiful to replicate—too unique to pass by without a 
thorough glance.
That same
torment and confliction from the previous week ran 
deep in his eyes again. He
hated this, but liked it just a tad bit 
“Fuck,” he
breathed. “Fuck, Jenny.”
“What?” I
finally spoke, my voice hardly a whisper.
“That’s what you want, isn’t it? All of that shit I
just said is 
exactly what you want.”


 Shanora Williams is a twenty-something that
creates authentic romantic stories that, may or may not, make you question what
a “Happily Ever After” truly is. After hitting the New York Times and USA Today
bestsellers list at the mere age of nineteen, Shanora ventured further into the
creative writing world, working even harder to create unique and memorable
romances for all to enjoy.
currently resides in Waxhaw, North Carolina and is the mother of one amazing
boy, in love with her devoted man, and a sister to eleven.
she isn’t writing, she’s spending time with her family, binge reading, or
running marathons on Netflix while scarfing down anything sweet and salty.



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