Too Sweet

Too Sweet A Highschool Vampire Romance Monroe Wildrose Copyright First Edition published on May 1 st 2023, by Teapots and Stolen Souls Publishing. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Copyright owned by Wednesday Andrews©. This book may not be copied, reprinted, or distributed without the author’s consent. Cover Design by @zzukaritass All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. Contents Trigger Warning List: . Chapter 1. Chapter One 2. Chapter Two 3. Chapter Three 4. Chapter Four 5. Chapter Five 6. Chapter Six 7. Chapter Seven 8. Chapter Eight 9. Chapter Nine 10. Chapter Ten 11. Chapter Eleven 12. Chapter Twelve 13. Chapter Thirteen 14. Chapter Fourteen 15. Chapter Fifteen 16. Chapter Sixteen 17. Chapter Seventeen 18. Chapter Eighteen 19. Chapter Nineteen 20. Chapter Twenty 21. Chapter Twenty-One 22. Chapter Twenty-Two 23. Chapter Twenty-Three 24. Chapter Twenty-Four 25. Chapter Twenty-Five 26. Chapter Twenty-Six 27. Chapter Twenty-Seven 28. Chapter Twenty-Eight 29. Chapter Twenty-Nine 30. Chapter Thirty 31. Chapter Thirty-One 32. Chapter Thirty-Two 33. Chapter Thirty-Three 34. Chapter Thirty-Four 35. Chapter Thirty-Five 36. Chapter Thirty-Six 37. Chapter Thirty-Seven 38. Chapter Thirty-Eight 39. Chapter Thirty-Nine 40. Chapter Forty 41. Epilogue Too Sweet Playlist Author Notes and Acknowledgments About the Author Trigger Warning List: Heavy Language Teenage Smoking Depiction of a Type 1 Diabetic Character (Injections, needles, and medication use) Bullying (Mild) The suggestion of child abuse (Off page) Kidnapping Hostage situation Mention of Blood (Heavy) Stabbing Dedicated to all those battling Type 1 Diabetes. You are not a burden. Chapter One Briar The thing about high school is that it is complete bullshit. I wouldn’t recommend saying that to your advanced mathematics teacher in the middle of his class, unless you wanted to be sent to the principal’s office. Or you could anyway, knowing you were going to be staring down Mrs. Sheridan’s stony eyes. The woman had a stare like a loaded shotgun. She wasn’t even the principal, oh no. This was my counselor. The woman I saw after I saw the principal. Usually, they would call my parents for this meeting. However, my mother worked just shy of an hour away at a bar she owned in the bigger city outside this piece of shit town and wouldn’t come anyway. Not in a neglectful way. It’s just my mother also thought high school was bullshit. That, and I was always getting in trouble. Not real trouble. Not drugs or house party trouble, just questioning authority trouble. My mother admired it in me, coaxed it, and encouraged the flame of her child’s unruly behavior until it was a wildfire that consumed all adults I came into contact with. “Briar,” Mrs. Sheridan sighed. It wasn’t her fault I was in here so often. So often, the counselor stocked my favorite vanilla-flavored tootsie rolls in a little glass candy jar on her desk. My hand was caught fishing in the pot when she said my name, and my eyes slid to hers. “Briar, you can’t talk back to your teachers.” “Why not?” I pulled two light blue candies out and replaced the metal lid. “I can’t have this conversation with you every time.” “Mr. Gornheld is an idiot, and he told me I couldn’t drink a juicebox in class.” “Were you drinking juice because your sugar was low, or just because you wanted one?” “Since I have sworn never to lie to you, Jackie, I’m afraid I can’t answer that.” Mrs. Sheridan, a.k.a. Jackie, gave me the shotgun eyes again. At one time, I thought the stare was more intimidating. I still found it slightly scary, but I was proud to say my face would never register that. “Please don’t call me Jackie.” I nodded, chewing the slightly hard candy. “Despite your opinions on Mr. Gornheld, you cannot call him an idiotic twit in the middle of class.” “Is it derailing my behavior map?” “There is no behavior map; I’m just concerned these outbursts are a sign of something deeper than you thinking the adults at this school are incompetent,“ she corrected me. “Only halfway through senior year, Briar.” “Not you, Mrs. Sheridan; you aren’t.” “High praise.” She nearly rolled her eyes, and I smiled as she stopped herself. “I saw your locker this morning.” “You’d think they’d get more creative over time, but it seems the blood that their brain should be using is being redirected.” Whore. Bitch. Two words painted in rose gold spray-paint on my locker. It wasn’t the first time and probably wouldn’t be the last. I would go to the admin office and ask for some paint thinner and a mask to remove the words after my classes had finished. Of course, the custodian would do it for me if I left it, but there was a specific power in angrily wiping away the letters while wearing a fume mask as kids shuffled past me to go home. “You want to talk about it?” she asked as I contemplated grabbing another tootsie roll. “Maybe if I cared.” “You flinched when I brought it up.” Okay, so I cared. So what. I didn’t care about the boys who painted it. I didn’t care one second about them and their stupid ideas of humor and brotherly devotion. I did care a little about who they did it on behalf of. Morgan. Morgan Pope. My Ex. Ex seemed like such a dramatic word. We were only seventeen, so what if we had been together for two years? So what if I had fallen so hopelessly and terribly in love with him that I thought there was no way that we wouldn’t be together forever? Until we weren’t, and when he broke up with me over the summer, rumors started flying