Boys of South Chapel

No wrong moves. Those were the words the first boy I ever loved whispered in my ear on graduation weekend. Naively, I believed him. Now those three little words feel like a bad omen I can’t escape. Every move I’ve made since I returned to South Chapel hurts my ex-boyfriend, Greedy. But it’s for his benefit. That’s what I tell myself. Intentionally hurting him is for the best. It has to be. I said goodbye to the possibility of forever with him the moment my mom and his dad “introduced us” at their engagement dinner. Three years have passed, but that doesn’t matter to Greedy. 

When I met British billionaire Kabir Spencer at Splice London, he promised me an unforgettable night and nothing more. One night turned into a string of satisfying encounters, each one hotter than the last. As our dynamic evolved, Spence helped me explore a side of myself I didn’t know existed until the moment I uttered the words Yes, Sir.

No more running. It’s a promise I’m making to myself. It’s also the vow I’ve given to each of the four men who came together in my darkest time of need. Even when I was taken against my will and trapped in the confines of my own mind, unable to access my memories, they never gave up on me. When I see the way they look at me—and in some cases, the way they look at each oth

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Spence swore he had a plan. He assured us he had everything under control. He promised we could trust him. What he forgot to mention? His so-called plan was actually an emotional bombshell with enough force behind it to destroy us all. Technically, his plan worked—my mother and stepfather have ended their campaign to convince me to be a living organ donor. But the emotional damage and mental load of his big announcement has created a ripple effect throughout our cohort.