{"id":257863,"date":"2026-07-13T15:53:27","date_gmt":"2026-07-13T12:53:27","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/1kitap1.com\/en\/dead-daze-ja-huss\/"},"modified":"2026-07-13T15:53:27","modified_gmt":"2026-07-13T12:53:27","slug":"dead-daze-ja-huss","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/1kitap1.com\/en\/dead-daze-ja-huss\/","title":{"rendered":"Dead Daze – JA Huss"},"content":{"rendered":"
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People pass me on the sidewalk and I don’t immediately catalog all the ways they’re judging me. Some of them aren’t even looking at me. The ones who are… they’re not looking at me like I’m something broken they need to avoid. I feel satisfied. Complete, almost. Like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be, doing exactly what I should be doing, instead of hiding in a blanket fort pretending the world doesn’t exist. And maybe\u2014just maybe\u2014I’m thinking about Ryan. Not in the usual way.<\/p>\n

Not the desperate, frantic fantasizing that used to consume me about fictional men doing terrible things. Just… Ryan. How he smiled at the airport when he saw my new hair. “Holy shit, Scarletta. You look amazing.” How he insisted on helping me with my suitcases even though I told him I could manage.<\/p>\n

How he opened the Uber door and told me “See you soon,” like he actually meant it. I was genuinely flattered that he even noticed me. I’d noticed him, obviously. You can’t miss Ryan at Iron River Fitness. His office sits elevated in the center of the gym floor like some kind of glass fishbowl, and he’s always up there\u2014watching his clientele with this benevolent intensity, like he actually cares whether people hit their goals. He’s objectively gorgeous.<\/p>\n

Tall, broad-shouldered, perfectly sculpted in that way that suggests he actually lives the lifestyle he sells. His body is covered in bird tattoos\u2014and I mean covered. Sleeves that disappear under his shirt, ink crawling up his neck, vanishing beneath his collar. They’re not random flash pieces scattered across his skin. They’re intricate, custom work. Each bird is different\u2014ravens, swallows, hawks\u2014 rendered in this incredible detail that suggests hours in the chair and serious money spent. Beautiful doesn’t quite cover it. They’re art. The kind of tattoos that tell a story, even if I don’t know what that story is yet.<\/p>\n

Completely out of my league. That’s where my attention stopped. Because why torture myself imagining scenarios where someone like Ryan would want someone like me? Except… Maybe I’m not out of his league anymore. Maybe\u2014and this feels dangerous to even think\u2014maybe I’m exactly his type. He was certainly friendly at the airport. Really friendly. I round the corner and Iron River Fitness comes into view, all glass and chrome, and the promise of people who’ve figured out how to exist in their bodies without hating themselves.<\/p>\n

My heart does this stupid flutter thing. Because Ryan might be in there. And for the first time in my entire goddamn life, I’m not immediately constructing elaborate reasons why someone wouldn’t want me. I push through the glass doors and immediately scan the gym floor.<\/p>\n

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No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. OceanofPDF.com Contents 1. Scarletta 2. Caleb 3. Scarletta 4. Caleb 5. Scarletta 6. Caleb 7. Scarletta 8. Caleb 9. Scarletta 10.<\/p>\n

Caleb 11. Scarletta 12. Caleb 13. Scarletta 14. Caleb 15. Scarletta 16. Caleb 17. Scarletta End of Book Shit Get the Next Book OceanofPDF.com I Chapter 1 Scarletta ‘m half-awake when the words come. They always come like this\u2014slipping in through the cracks in my consciousness before I’m fully present, before I can judge them or shut them down.<\/p>\n

Ivy stands outside the sleek black door of Velvet Underground, clutching the embossed invitation Logan slipped under her apartment door three days ago. Her hands shake. Inside, masked strangers are doing things nice girls don’t think about. Things she’s been thinking about for months. “You won’t actually go,” Logan told her last week. He was leaning against the doorframe of her apartment with that infuriating smirk. “You’ll fantasize about it. Write about it in that little journal you think I don’t know about. But you won’t walk through my door.”<\/p>\n

She hates that he’s right. She hates that her pussy is already wet just standing here. My hand slides between my thighs on autopilot, fingers finding the familiar path. I press against my clit, trying to chase the heat. Trying to follow Ivy into Logan’s club where masked attendants will strip her bare and\u2060\u2014 Nothing.<\/p>\n

I’m not even wet. I keep trying anyway, circling my clit, waiting for my body to catch up to the story playing in my head. Ivy’s embarrassment, her shame, her desperate need for Logan to see her\u2060\u2014 Nothing. I pull my hand away and stare at the ceiling of my new apartment.<\/p>\n

Six months. It’s been six months since Story Island. Six months since I destroyed every camera. Six months since I’ve heard Caleb’s voice. Six months since I’ve been able to come.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.<\/em><\/p>\n

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